You mean at the club?
It's fantastic.
It's incredible.
Watson, my dear fellow.
Absolutely fantastic.
Oh, what's happened?
You look as if you've seen a ghost.
A ghost?
Brandy, that's what I need.
Brandy.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Brandy, that's what I need.
Brandy.
Here.
Oh, thank you.
Who struck you?
Well, you said it yourself.
It was a ghost.
And without any previous warning, it totally hit me in the eye.
Yeah, yeah.
Wait a minute.
Here, son.
I think you'd better have another.
Well, I'll...
Thank you.
And now I'll begin again.
Who struck you?
Upon my words.
Holmes, it was a ghost.
The ghost.
Huh?
The ghost.
Huh?
Do you have a headache, Watson?
It may seem humorous to you, but I mean, look, let me tell you from the beginning.
Yes, please do, but start right at the beginning.
Right, well, I was on my way back from the club.
You see, it was about 8 o'clock.
And I got into Spender Street, and there was just obviously that little tobacco.
You know, makes that...
Yes, yes, I know.
Go on, Watson.
What did you do then?
Well, I saw a man in front of me suddenly clutch his chest.
He was walking towards you?
How do you know?
Well, I mean, you said he staggered and clutched his chest.
You must have been...
Yeah, yeah.
That's logical.
I rushed up to him to help him, you see.
And he's still able to mumble something about he had a heart,
and he lived in 19 Hooper Street.
And would I help him get there?
There were no other pedestrians?
No, no, the street was completely deserted.
Good.
Go on.
Well, then his landlady let us in, and he was unconscious by that time.
So I carried him up to his room, and I laid him out on his bed, and Holmes, he was dead.
Now look here, Holmes, he was absolutely, completely, and utterly dead.
I couldn't make a mistake about a thing, mind you.
No, no, no, of course you couldn't, old man, I know.
Go on, then, what happened next?
Well, then I told the landlady, the landlady rather said to me that she'd call the authorities, you see,
and I left my name with her just in case, you know, they'd want me.
And then, well, I thought it would be rather more delicate if I left, you see, I mean, he must have relations.
Yes, yes, yes, that's quite right, quite right, Watson.
The most delicate situation.
What was the man's name?
Higgins. Albert Higgins.
I see.
And what did you do after you left the house?
Well, you see, it had been a bit of an effort, you know, carrying him up like that,
so I got down the stairs and popped across the road into a pub and had a pint.
And then I started off back to the flat, you see.
Well, I just turned the corner into Spender Street and there was...
Higgins, Albert Higgins?
Yes, just face to face with me.
There he was, large as life.
We stood looking at each other for a minute, then he lashed out and hit me in the eye.
And then, then really, Holmes, he vanished.
Vanished?
Yes, into the blue.
Well, he ran away.
Well, the street was rather ill-lit, you know, and it took me a minute or two to pull myself together.
And then I don't know whether he ran away or not, but he vanished.
Well, that's most unusual.
Most?
Did you speak to this ghost?
Well, I may have said, good gracious Higgins, or by Jove Higgins, or even good heavens Higgins.
Yes, it's perfectly natural, Watson.
Describe Higgins to me.
Well, he's 50ish, sandy-haired, medium build.
Is that all you observed? No characteristics?
Well, really, Holmes, when I had the chance of examining him on the bed, the most obvious characteristic was he was dead.
How was he dressed?
Green tweed suit.
What?
Just wear a green tweed suit.
He must have been wearing something more than that in this weather.
Oh, no, no, no.
He had a big floppy hat and a long overcoat.
Ah.
Oh, and something else.
Yes, I did notice something else.
He limped.
Ah-ha.
Was he carrying a cane?
No, no cane.
Well, is there anything else, Watson?
Think hard.
Hmm.
Um.
Uh.
Oh, yes, yes, I remember something now.
What?
Yes, the second time I saw him, he was carrying a package.
But the first time, he didn't have one.
Ah, now this is curious.
Very curious.
Where are you going, Holmes?
Not me.
We.
I'm in no condition to leave the house.
Then a morsel of raw beef will immeasurably improve your appearance.
And then what?
Then we shall do our best to track down the belligerent ghost of Albert Higgins.
Fascinating idea, don't you think?
Well, the whole thing's been most unnerving.
You know, I mean, he knocks the wind out of the chaff.
Oh, really, no, Watson.
He's also a rather flamboyant character by the wide, rakish brim.
Hmm.
I see he was an artist, too.
Though he hasn't painted very much recently.
Notice the specks of paint underneath the brim here.
Not house paint, but canvas oils.
Here, watch this.
Now, you, Jensen, what are you doing in poor Albert's room?
Oh, good evening, Mrs. Blake.
Remember me, Dr. Watson?
You're the bloke who brought poor Albert in.
Yes, yes.
Who's your gentleman friend?
Ah, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Mrs. Maggie Blake, the landlady.
Pleased to meet you, I'm sure, Mr. Holmes.
Oh, poor old Albert.
He was proper fond of life, Albert was.
He wouldn't have popped off if he'd had his way.
Oh, few of us would, madam.
I was around to the local having me good night pint.
And grieving for poor old Albert.
He would have wanted a proper send-off.
Would the pint a mild and bitter Albert would?
No doubt he would, madam.
The body I see has been removed by the authorities.
Oh, poor old Albert on a slab.
Oh, dear, oh, dear.
Have you, have you notified his next of kin, Mrs. Blake?
No.
He had none.
He was all alone.
Oh, I see.
Where was Mr. Higgins employed, madam?
At the Pembroke Museum, right around the corner in Spender Street.
It's a picture museum.
Albert was a day watchman.
A day watchman, you say?
Well, what were his working hours?
Nine in the morning till nine in the evening.
Punctual as a clock, Albert was.
Never late a minute.
Poor Albert.
He always came back from the museum then at a few minutes after nine every evening.
Aye, to make his supper.
He was a proper good cook, Albert was.
Excuse my saying so, madam, but aren't you mistaken?
Surely it's a little after eight when Mr. Higgins finished work.
Because it was only a little after eight when I picked him up this evening and brought him here.
Oh, no, doctor.
It was just after nine.
I marked the time because I was waiting for Albert to come back.
He'd asked me to get him a cut of beef.
He always came back just after nine.
He'll never eat that beef now.
Poor Albert won't.
Oh, it's you in the iron.
Hmm?
Oh, no, no, no.
I just, uh, I just bumped into a door.
Oh.
You shouldn't get familiar with a door, if you know what I mean.
Well, really, that was I...
I think we've found her all we can for the time being, Watson.
Thank you, madam.
We shan't intrude on your grief any further.
Poor old Albert.
It really is most embarrassing about this, I, Holmes.
Did you hear what she inferred?
It's a terrible situation.
And she's wrong about the time.
It was only a little after eight.
And it's only a few minutes' walk to Spenders Street.
Yes, sir.
Time is a curious dimension, Watson.
Habit and the preconceived notion can so easily reverse the hands of the clock.
And yet the clock is still in perfect working order.
Well, where are we going?
To view the mortal remains of poor old Albert Higgins.
Well, there he is, Mr. Holmes.
Nice and peaceful, I guess.
Poor chap.
Hmm.
See anything, Holmes?
Nothing that I haven't already deduced.
Except that I drew an erroneous conclusion from his hat.
He has painted recently, but indoors with his hat off.
There are still traces of paint quite fresh under his fingernails.
What does that mean?
I haven't the faintest idea.
Well, you gents aren't the only ones interested in this dearly departed.
Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yards looked him over, too.
Oh, indeed.
Oh, he's still here if you'd like to talk to him.
Well, that should be very informative for one or the other, or both of us.
I can't understand it, Holmes.
I'm absolutely sure this is the man who punched me.
I'm positive.
But also the one who had the heart attack?
Yes, I'm sure of it. One and the same.
Well, he's punched his last punch.
Well, he probably is. They're punching him.
Full of holes with pitchforks.
Yes, well, I think we've seen and heard enough.
Would you like to take us to Inspector Lestrade now, please?
Ah, hello, Inspector.
Oh, Mr. Holmes, I'm surprised to see you here.
Now, this is one case you can't make anything queer out of.
Oh, then why, my dear Inspector Lestrade, are you here?
Well, when they brought him in, somebody recognized him as Pound Road Albert Higgins.
I come along to check their identification.
We like to keep a track of our old pals, you know.
What was he in prison for?
Counterfeiting. He made the best pound note you ever saw.
Yes, he was a real artist.
Lestrade, there's no doubt as to the cause of death, is there?
Oh, sorry, Holmes. Heart failure. No foul play.
I understand you were with him in his last moments.
Yes, I was with him on the street when he had the attack and I took him home.
There was nothing you could do, I suppose.
Nothing. He was dead before I had a chance to do anything.
By the way, what time was he brought in?
Oh, let me see now. It would be about, um...
Ah, yes, here we are. Quarter to ten.
Higgins' landlady notified Constable Smithers at half past nine.
Smithers had them remove the body in a matter of minutes.
Inspector, are you sure it was half past nine and not half past eight?
No, half past nine is right here in Smithers' report.
What?
Oh, I... Well, I... No, it's nothing. Nothing at all.
You're quite sure, Lestrade, there's nothing more to this
than a simple case of natural causes?
Ah, no, there's no mystery at all.
No mystery, Mr. Holmes.
What happened to your eye, Dr. Watson?
Oh, I... I, uh, bumped into a door.
A door?
Oh, well, that's a new one anyway.
Was it a pretty door?
Oh, really, Lestrade!
That's all right, Watson. I won't tell a soul.
Well, really, this is insufferable, Holmes. Nobody believes me.
Well, why don't you tell them the truth?
What, that I was punched by a ghost?
Yes, yes, I see what you mean.
We may have to take on this case anyway,
if only to protect your honour and reputation.
Oh, it's intolerable, Holmes. Absolutely intolerable.
Oh, evening, Watson.
Hmm.
Anything wrong?
No, nothing. Nothing.
Of course not, after night.
Oh, you're sure you're not brooding over last night's affair, are you?
Of course I'm not. Don't be so ridiculous.
Oh, come on, out with it, man.
Well, I...
No, there's nothing to come out with.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Oh, come on, Watson, there's something on your mind.
Well, I...
Gosh, you'd never believe it. Nobody would believe it.
Well?
Well, I met Albert Higgins in Spender Street again, tonight.
And he punched you again?
He pulled my nose!
Really?
That's very interesting, Watson.
My dear Watson, calm yourself.
Look here, Holmes, this whole Higgins affair has gone too far.
First of all, last night, and now tonight.
Calm yourself, Watson, and relate.
Everything hangs on this second encounter.
Well, it occurred just as it had last night.
I was on my way back from the club, and I'd reached Spender Street.
It was a few minutes ago, as a matter of fact, just after 9 o'clock.
I'd stayed rather late in the club than usual.
There was a chap from Afghanistan. They were awfully interesting.
Yes, yes, Watson, get on with his story.
Well, I was rather preoccupied, as you know.
This affair has cut me up, rather, and...
Oh, I may not say.
Anyway, I was walking along.
I suddenly looked up, and there was the pedestrian, a man a few feet from me.
Walking towards you?
Why, yes. Of course, I didn't recognize him straightaway, for, uh...
you know who.
Anyway, I sidestepped him past, and he sidestepped to let me past,
and then we sort of zigzagged about a bit, you know what it is, on the street,
and ended up by bumping into each other.
Now, that's when you recognized Albert Higgins.
But it was Higgins! I couldn't be mistaken.
Good heavens, man, I know him like my own brother!
Dressed as he was last night?
Exactly.
And what did he do then?
Well, as I told you, then he put out his hand, and he...
Well, yes, we'll go into that.
And then he was gone, vanished!
Capital, Watson, capital! Everything begins to fall into place.
Now, there's one more question. Was he carrying a package?
Well, um...
Yes, yes, he was, just like last time!
I say, Holmes, do you, um...
Do you believe, uh...
What?
The supernatural?
Uh, ghosts, do you mean?
It sounds silly, I know, but, um...
Higgins did die of a heart attack.
There was no foul play.
No foul play?
Why, the whole affair reeks of foul play.
I can tell you, Watson, I am in idle today.
Do you know that the Pembroke Museum is showing a collection of paintings
on loan from the Italian government,
and that included amongst those paintings
is Leonardo da Vinci's Moonlight Madonna?
Well, I did read something about it in the paper.
What's that got to do with Albert Higgins?
Well, we must now pay a visit to the good inspector
and inform him that if the ghost of Albert Higgins
hadn't struck you in the eye...
And pulled my nose!
And pulled your nose,
I would never have suspected the Moonlight Madonna
would be stolen from the museum.
What?
Well, it's quite obvious, isn't it?
Well, of course.
Merci.
Thank you.
Well, we'll soon know, Mr. Holmes.
But if the picture's still hanging in its place
and we've dragged the curator out of bed to check on it...
Well, false alarms like this don't exactly help the yard's reputation, you know.
And what about my reputation, Inspector?
When I say a man died a little after eight,
he died a little after eight,
and not a little after nine.
And when I say these ghosts punched me in the eye half an hour later,
hang it, he punched me in the eye!
Oh, we all have our off days, Dr. Watson.
To err is human, as the poets say.
And furthermore, if I tell you that I bumped into this chap's ghost again tonight,
you didn't...
And didn't tell me about any second meeting.
Oh. Oh, didn't I?
Well, nothing. Nothing.
An hallucination. That's what you had, Dr. Watson.
Yes, it's, um, psychological.
That's the thing in crime today, psychology.
I've been studying it, you know.
You astonish me, Inspector.
Oh, we're not as backwards as you think, Holmes.
Oh, we like to keep abreast of the times.
Well, I don't mind admitting I don't think that psychology's got much of a future.
Oh, come in.
Ah, Hawkins, you saw the curator?
Oh, yes, sir. I called him, Mr. Bentham, as you instructed, sir.
He was quite excited when I told him this picture called The Moonlight Madonna had been stolen.
And?
And so we rushed around the corner to the museum.
And?
Well, sir, the picture was there, hanging in its proper place.
Good night, sir.
Well, there you are, Holmes.
As I said to Dr. Watson, to err is human.
Can I give you gentlemen a lift anywhere?
Thank you, Inspector.
Oh, I think it might be a good idea if we called at the Pembroke Museum on our way.
But you heard what Hawkins said.
The picture was hanging in its proper place.
My dearest, strange.
Hawkins' statement merely proves that what he and the curator saw was not The Moonlight Madonna at all.
Merely an excellent forgery.
What's he talking about?
Art, ghosts, my black eye, and psychology.
Remarkable, remarkable.
Only a microscopic examination of the brush stroke shows it any different from da Vinci's work.
Of course, if you still have any doubts, a chemical analysis of the paint mixtures will prove them to be of modern manufacture.
No, no, no. You've quite convinced me, Mr. Holmes. An analysis is necessary.
Dear me, dear me. This is catastrophic.
Hmm. A rather delicate situation, eh?
Delicate?
The Italian government will hold the British government responsible.
The painting is an Italian national treasure.
And a theft could easily affect a pending treaty between the two nations.
Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes, you must find the original before the Italians learn the painting's been stolen.
The British government will hold me responsible.
And the yard will hold me responsible.
The most priceless of the lot, too.
Yes, naturally.
Well, we know who stole the painting and substituted the forgery, Higgins.
All we've got to do now is find out where he hid it.
Hmm. What time did you leave the museum, Mr. Benson?
A few minutes before nine. Higgins was still on duty.
You're quite sure it was Higgins?
I'm certain, Mr. Holmes. I chatted with him for a few moments and I couldn't have mistaken his voice.
And the night watchman relieved him at nine.
You heard him say that, Mr. Holmes, and that he had a package with him when he left.
The night watchman swears uphill and down dale it was Higgins, all right.
Well, the matter seems to resolve itself very nicely, doesn't it?
Dr. Watson was punched by Higgins a few minutes after nine.
The night watchman saw him leave at nine.
And you spoke to him a few minutes before nine.
Look, Holmes, why don't you and Dr. Watson go home and have a good night's rest?
From now on, it's nothing but plain, ordinary, simple police work.
Nothing you could use a magnifying glass of.
Ah, true. True, Inspector.
Well, good evening, gentlemen.
Yes, well, good night, gentlemen.
Terrible, Inspector. Terrible, Inspector. Terrible.
What do we do now?
Interesting affair, eh, Watson?
Look, I don't care what anybody says. It was after eight when Higgins punched me.
Well, has it occurred to you that if Higgins didn't punch you, who had the heart attack?
Look here, Holmes, I... Oh, confound it.
For all I know, it was Higgins who punched me, and his ghost had the heart attack.
Come on, Watson.
It might happen, Colin, decently to tell me what we're breaking into.
Shh, whisper.
Well, I am whispering.
Oh, darling, quiet, Watson.
Look here, we broke into the rear of the museum, because if so, Holmes,
really, I don't know what's going to happen to us.
Here, hold this. What? Oh.
Holmes, this is sheer vandalism.
Yes, well, then there must be a bit of a vandal in us all.
Holmes, what are you doing? This is monster destruction.
I've never seen anything like this in my life. I forbid you to.
I didn't know this side of your character, Holmes. I'm shocked.
Ha, just as I thought.
Love, Watson.
Good heavens, a bit more than I'd went on.
Yes, ingenious, isn't it?
And yet, what could be simpler than to attach it to the back of an old and nubber painting?
How on earth did you work that?
Well, I just asked myself where I would hide a stolen canvas.
Holmes, have you gone mad? No, no, no, no, we're just awaiting events.
I don't think we should have to wait very long.
Holmes, Dr. Watson. What's the meaning of this?
Watson, I believe you've already met Mr. Bentham
in his capacity as curator of the Pembroke Museum.
Allow me to present him to you now as the picture thief.
Charmed, Dr. Watson.
I'm not sure I can do that.
I'm afraid I can't.
Allow me to present him to you now as the picture thief.
Charmed, Dr. Watson.
How delighted I... What is this?
So you discovered my little hiding place, Mr. Holmes.
I'm curious.
How did you know it was I and not the late lamented Higgins?
Yes, I believe Dr. Watson's story from the first.
If Higgins died a little after eight,
it must have been someone else who struck him a little after nine.
I'm not sure, Watson.
It was a limp, a wide, floppy hat
and an exceedingly long overcoat that punched you.
Seen in a dimly lit street.
A psychological misidentification, as the good inspector would call it.
The night watchman was also a victim of the same illusion.
And what about the landlady?
How much did you have to pay her to set back the time of death by an hour, Mr. Bentham?
Oh, not much, Mr. Holmes.
How did you know it was me?
Dr. Watson and the night watchman
both identified the nine o'clock Higgins visually at a distance.
Only you pretended to have spoken to him.
This meant that either you were lying
or Dr. Watson was punched in the eye by a ghost.
I believe the simple explanation.
You almost make me feel transparent, Mr. Holmes.
To anyone who viewed the facts subjectively, you were.
It's a pity that one crime has to lead to another.
Yes, and I think it's a great pity, Holmes, that you broke that vase.
Oh, yes, yes.
But it's only an imitation.
Nonsense, you can't tell me that that sort of work is like this an imitation.
Perhaps the pieces can be...
Well done, Watson, well done.
You know, Holmes, you didn't have to invite him here to catch us.
You put us in rather an awkward position.
Oh, my dear fellow, I have sublime confidence in your ability
to extricate us from any of the committee which my irrationals made places.
Might I suggest that you now fetch the good inspector?
Yes, here you are.
Excuse me.
I say, Holmes, you're a good man.
I say, Holmes, Bentham punched me in the eye.
Who was it tweaked my nose?
Well, my dear old chap, it was absolutely imperative that I make certain
that the limp, the hat and the coat were really capable of fooling you.
You?
Yes, I regret to say I not only tweaked your nose,
but I also pulled your leg.
Oh!
What?
Oh!