I never suspected Inspector Lestrade would shortly be accusing me of the murder of a
man I had yet to meet.
Do you like Voljak?
Yes, you must play him sometime.
I have been.
Oh.
Do you care to go out?
Why?
I know you shall walk somewhere.
I feel restless.
Why don't you read, Holmes?
What about the tigers of India?
Well, it's a jolly instinct.
Especially about the female of the species.
Female of the species usually is.
It says here that they often attack when you think they're going to run and run when you
think they're going to attack.
Fascinating.
Here.
Oh, no, please.
Now, come, come.
The exercise will do you good.
You mustn't allow yourself to vegetate and grow static.
Especially a man of your former violent habits.
Tiger hunting in India.
Horse marches.
Watson, come on.
All right, then.
All right.
But only a short one, mind.
Because this is no time to go promenading.
Blast.
Bring my hat, will you?
There you are, boy.
Any problem?
Well, look.
Look, this isn't my coat.
It's very light, but it just isn't.
Too small?
Well, yes.
Well, you probably picked someone else's up at the...
No, no, no.
I'm not going to wear it.
No, I...
Look.
It's a letter, honey.
Maybe it's got an address.
Well, it doesn't make any sense.
Let's see.
12 heroes with broken feet.
Unsigned.
Well, it sounds silly to me.
Written by a woman and dashed off in a hurry, too.
It is a bold hand, Watson.
A woman of strength and character.
Capable of violence, I'd say.
Like your, uh, tiger's friend.
Which of you two gentlemen is Dr. Watson?
I am, sir.
Thank goodness I found you, Doctor.
The cloakroom attendant at the club told me this must be your coat and...
Ah, yes.
I see you have it, Doctor.
As a matter of fact, we've only just, uh, discovered the mistake.
In fact, we were on our way back to the...
I say, would you mind, Adams?
Yes, of course.
Thank you.
There we are.
Oh!
So sorry.
There we are.
Thank you, Doctor.
Thank you.
Good night, gentlemen.
I'm sorry about the mistake.
Good night.
I say, Holmes.
Yes.
I know.
He took your hat.
Oh, no.
Now, really, that's gone too far.
There's a limit to these things.
Really, these people.
Why, don't worry about it, Holmes.
The cloakroom attendant at the club will know his name and address.
Well, it doesn't matter about that.
It's...
I...
I don't like wearing another chap's hat, you know.
It's a personal thing.
I...
Like a toothbrush.
You're the son of a title, I see.
The, uh, family crest.
Been to Russia, too.
Samovar.
A nice pair of icons.
You know, it was beginning to rain when we came in here.
I hope that chap's had the decency not to get my hat absolutely soaked.
Hmm, Watson.
Ah, I see he composes, too.
Well, someone does.
Holmes, what do you think you're doing?
You just can't start barging into a chap's house and start playing his piano.
The violin is really my instrument, Watson, but I have a certain facility with the piano,
even if I do say so.
Do you know what this piece is called?
No, I don't.
I couldn't care less.
Can you stop playing that thing?
The Spider's Web.
A ballet, apparently.
And at this point, the spider attacks the fly.
You gentlemen wish to see my husband?
I'm Mrs. Chelmsford.
How do you do?
I'm Dr. Watson.
This is my friend, Mr. Holmes.
Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Madam, I've come here to return your husband's hat.
He left it in our flat this evening.
I thank you.
I'm afraid my husband isn't home, Dr. Watson.
Well, I wonder if you'd be good enough to ask him if, at his earliest convenience, he
could return mine.
My husband has other hats.
Perhaps you...
Oh, no, no.
Thank you very much, indeed.
I'm very partial to my own.
Well, I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs. Chelmsford.
Mr. Holmes?
Yes, madam?
May I ask, did my husband go to your flat to consult you professionally?
No, no.
He merely came to return Dr. Watson's coat, which he had also taken by mistake.
Then, Mr. Holmes, I would like to consult you professionally.
My services are always available to anyone who has genuine need of them.
My husband is in trouble.
He gave us that impression.
He's being blackmailed.
By whom?
Six months ago, we returned to London from St. Petersburg, where my husband was military
attaché.
During his stay in St. Petersburg, he met a ballerina named Olga Yaklanoff.
Yaklanoff.
Oh, yes, the premier dancer with the St. Petersburg Imperial Ballet.
Yes.
The troupe is playing in London now.
They've been here all week.
When my husband met Yaklanoff in Russia, they became friendly.
Oh, it was nothing more than friendship.
You see, my husband is an amateur composer, and their friendship was based on mutual love
of music.
I see.
During their friendship, my husband disclosed some military secrets unthinkingly to Yaklanoff.
She demanded 5,000 pounds, but then he was transferred to London.
Now she's renewed her demands.
Your husband has told you of this?
Only of the original demand in St. Petersburg, but I know that she's renewed it here in London.
Do you expect him back this evening?
I don't know.
His whole routine has been upset.
Mr. Holmes, you must help.
Madam, I detest blackmail in any form.
You'll hear from me tomorrow.
Oh, by the way, what was the dancer's name?
Yaklanoff.
Oh, yes.
I wonder, would you mind writing it down for me?
Thank you, madam.
Oh, madam, about my tat, I wonder...
Yes, Dr. Watson?
Oh, well, no, it doesn't matter.
Did you knock on the door?
It was a knock.
I am inside, Watson, not outside.
Well, it must have been somebody else.
It wasn't me.
I'm inside, too.
Ah, Inspector.
Rather late for Scotland Yard to be out and about, isn't it?
Oh, I'm sorry to get you out of bed at this time of night, Mr. Holmes.
It's not a very pleasant business I've come about, either.
Oh, look, I say, my hat.
Dr. Watson.
Holmes, look what this chap's done to it.
It's absolutely soaked.
Dr. Watson, do you wish to make a statement?
I'm not obliged to, but I must warn you that anything you say will be taken down and may
be used as evidence.
I won't half give this chap a piece of my mind when I catch up with him.
I really...
What?
What did you...
Who used what again?
Holmes, what's he talking about?
Dr. Watson, I must question you in connection with the murder of the Honorable Harry Shelton.
Murder?
I'll murder him when I catch up with him.
I...
What?
Mr. Shelton was found murdered in St. James's Park, and your hat, Dr. Watson, was found
beside the body.
Oh, an embarrassing predicament, eh, Watson?
Can you explain it?
Well, what do you mean, can I explain it?
Well, you know perfectly well how Shelton got my hat.
Well, tell the man.
Tell him.
Mr. Trey, how was Shelton murdered?
Stabbed, Mr. Holmes.
In the back.
And we haven't been able to find a weapon yet.
Any other suspects, I mean, apart from my old friend Watson here?
Well, no, unless footpads did it.
I'm sorry, Dr. Watson, that's evidence, you know.
Holmes, will you kindly tell the strait how my hat got mixed up in this affair?
Patience, Watson, patience.
Now go get yourself dressed.
We're going to St. James's Park.
If you don't mind waiting a moment, Mr. Trey.
Oh, uh, officer, you might keep an eye on Dr. Watson while he dresses.
You never know, he may try and get out through the window.
Well, I, I, and this is a fine example of British justice.
A fella comes and pinches your hat and you accuse me of murdering him to get it back.
I've never heard of such a thing in my life.
I think of all the cups of tea you've had free with us, it makes me absolutely...
Well, um, the body was lying about here, Mr. Holmes.
I see, you removed it immediately.
Well, almost immediately.
The kind of body lying about St. James's Park, you know.
Anyhow, it was raining.
Yes, of course, and the poor fella may have taken cold.
Almost considerate of you, Lestrade.
It doesn't matter what evidence you may have destroyed.
Well, from what you tell me on the way up here, things are beginning to take shape.
You find anything in this overcoat?
No, nothing, only that note you were talking about.
You know, the one with the 12 heroes with the broken feet?
Oh, that doesn't mean anything, I'm sure.
No, I suppose not, Lestrade.
And you were saying that things were beginning to shape up, eh?
Oh, yes.
Well, you see, Chelten met this woman in St. Petersburg.
She comes to London with the ballet, and she wants to renew the friendship.
He doesn't.
So, she lures him in here and stabs him.
Very excitable, these Russian women.
Take things like that seriously, you know.
So all you have to do is place her here in the park, eh, Lestrade?
Exactly.
You have all the evidence you need that she was here.
I have?
The note, Lestrade.
It tells Chelten to meet her here tonight.
Well, I don't see it.
12 heroes with broken feet.
What have 12 heroes with broken feet to do with her meeting him here tonight?
The numeral 12, Lestrade, obviously refers to 12 o'clock, midnight.
Well, what about the heroes with the broken feet?
A slight confusion on the lady's part.
Probably the influence of Cockney stagehands.
She added an H where there shouldn't have been one.
What?
Then spell it as she spelled it, but without the H. E-R-O-S.
Precisely, and here he is.
Cupid, the Greek god Eros, with his broken feet.
Oh, I see.
Oh, then we have our murderess.
It would appear so, wouldn't it?
And now the case is solved, perhaps I can go home and soak my feet.
No, no, I know nothing, nothing.
Please leave me alone.
Please, you will go.
Madam, I assure you...
Where is Sergei?
Oh, Sergei, come quick, quick, help me.
They want to hang your poor little Petrushka.
Where is Sergei?
Madam, we...
Go away, you're a bad man.
Disappear, disappear.
What is that?
The spider's web, Chelten wrote it.
Madam, perhaps you'll be good enough to write as I dictate.
12, Eros with broken feet.
No, I do not do it, I swear.
He was dead already when I go to meet him.
You wish to make a statement, madam?
You're not obliged to do so, but I warn you that anything you say will be taken down and
may be used in evidence.
He's got that expression on the brain, do not...
I do nothing except dance.
I do not kill, I am dancer.
You do not believe me.
Look, I show you.
Madam, please.
Please, madam, I implore you.
Sergei, this is Achille Harry Chelten and me, Yaklanov.
Tell them I cannot kill you in a fly.
Who are you?
Well, I...
How do you harm, mademoiselle Yaklanov, like this?
I am Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard and madame Yaklanov...
And I, and I am Sergei Smirnov, the director of the St. Petersburg Imperial Ballet.
Bazaar himself shall hear of this outrage.
Then, Mr. Smirnov, perhaps you would be good enough to explain the exact relationship between
madame Yaklanov and Mr. Chelten.
Madam appears to be, to say the least of it, incoherent.
So you had an acquaintance with Chelten in London?
Yes, Sergei.
I saw him again.
I meet Harry in St. Petersburg.
He does not wish to be soldier boy, he tell me.
He wish to make beautiful music like Tchaikovsky.
He play his music for me, I say.
Harry, you must be better soldier boy than you are music maker.
You must be.
It is not possible to be worse.
Such music, like noises in the air.
It was ridiculous.
Yes?
Why was he looking at you like that, madam?
He has written ballet since he left St. Petersburg.
The Spider's Web, he call it.
He wish me to dance the spider.
No.
Me, Yaklanov, a spider.
It is crazy.
And tonight you arrange to meet him in St. James' Park after the evening performance?
Yes, to tell him it is finished.
No more will I listen to his music.
And did you meet him in the park?
Yes, but I was a little late.
It was very dark.
I see Harry on the ground, dead.
I see.
You saw no weapon?
No, no weapon.
I am frightened.
I run away.
Not bad, Mr. Smirnoff.
It has certain merit.
Merit?
Who can possibly dance to noises like that?
Yes, listen.
At the beginning, even, it is not so bad.
It should go like this, in three-fourth time.
Very pretty, Mr. Smirnoff.
And we happen to have a murder on our hands.
Oh, madam, does this dagger belong to you?
Yes, I kill myself with it.
Oh, now, really, madam, there is no need to go that far.
I believe, Watson, the lady means she kills herself with it in the ballet.
Yes, in the ballet.
There are some interesting traces of blood on that, Lestrade.
No, no.
It is not true.
I'm afraid, madam, I'll have to ask you to accompany me to Scotland Yard for further
questioning.
You will go, Olga.
It is only bluff.
Yes, Sergei.
I will dress.
I will take off the sword.
Himself.
Personally.
You will see.
There may even be war.
War.
Foreigners, women, nobody could be logical about them.
Look, even Sherlock Holmes.
Holmes, can't you think, sitting guard?
This is the third time I've read this page already.
Your clown house handwriting, that's what baffles me.
The hand of a strong woman, and yet you saw her, Watson.
No will of her own, absolutely no will.
It's illogical.
Well, the inspector seemed to think the same thing.
He's built up a pretty logical case against her with your help.
Perhaps too logical.
Attack when you expect them to run, and run when you expect them to attack.
You know, Shelton wrote pretty bad music.
That could be a motive for murder.
Thought about it myself on occasion.
But this handwriting, Watson.
If only I could get to the bottom of it.
I say, Holmes, do you think they could let me have my hat back before the trial?
I didn't think my drag on for days.
Lestrade keeps on saying it's evidence.
Nope.
There's only one thing to do.
Travel Lestrade, confront Sergei Smirnov with Mrs. Shelton.
Why?
Because it's perfectly obvious why and by whom Shelton was killed.
The only thing I can't get to the bottom of is this mysterious business of the handwriting.
Do you know who murdered Shelton then?
Yes, of course I do.
Don't you?
Then you never met Sergei Smirnov before, Mrs. Shelton.
Either in St. Petersburg or London.
I know, Mr. Holmes.
Brought Mr. Smirnov along as you asked me to, Mr. Holmes.
Oh, good.
Ah!
Mr. Brassier!
I beg your pardon?
I am furious!
Right in the midst of rehearsal, I am dragged away!
Well, I'm sure the good inspector apologized most profusely, Mr. Smirnov.
I don't believe you've met Mrs. Shelton.
Hmm?
Shelton.
Who?
Mrs. Shelton.
Ah!
Murder!
Then perhaps, Mr. Smirnov, you'd be good enough to play the introductory music to The
Spiders' Web Ballet for Mrs. Shelton, as you did for us last night.
Eh?
Didn't it strike you as curious, Lestrade, that Mr. Smirnov should know Shelton's ballet
music, which wasn't composed until after Shelton left St. Petersburg?
Well, I...
Uh...
Yaclin often showed to him.
She did everything she could to hide their meetings.
That left only one place where he could have learned that music.
Here.
In this house.
At that piano.
In Shelton's absence, naturally.
I don't follow you, Holmes.
The budding affair of the heartless trade was not, as Mrs. Shelton would have us believe,
between her husband and Mademoiselle Yaclinoff, but between herself and Mr. Smirnov.
Between Smirnov and Mrs. Shelton?
Ridiculous.
Then, how did you learn Shelton's ballet?
I...
Do you wish to make a statement, sir?
You're not obliged to do so, but I warn you that anything you say will be taken down,
and maybe...
Are these the shoes you meant, Holmes?
I believe so, Watson.
Mrs. Shelton, did you by any chance go out last night, after Dr. Watson and I departed?
No, I didn't.
I mean, no, I didn't.
Yet these are the shoes you were wearing.
If you didn't go out, how do you account for the mud on the soles, and the blades of grass?
It didn't start to rain until after we left.
Mr. Holmes, I don't think it's necessary that I explain anything.
You...
Do you mean she did it, or he did it, or both?
Who are you accusing of murder, Holmes?
Mrs. Shelton, alone.
Ah.
So you killed for love of me?
And accomplished the double task of placing the guilt on Mademoiselle Yacklenhoff.
You undoubtedly found her note in your husband's pocket.
Ah!
To kill for love.
I can understand.
But to blame poor little Olga.
That I will never forgive.
Who would replace her in a ballet?
You seem to forget, Mr. Holmes, that the dagger was found in Mademoiselle Yacklenhoff's room.
Ah, yes, the dagger.
When did Mrs. Shelton have the dagger, Mr. Smirnoff?
Three days ago.
I forget to leave it here after the ballet.
The next day, Elaine returned it to me, with a few drops of her own blood on it.
Holmes, are you sure this time?
I was almost sure from the beginning, Mr. Traid.
I just couldn't explain the handwriting and the temperament.
And there really wasn't a logical explanation.
I mean the strong-minded woman with the weak handwriting.
And the weak-minded woman with the strong handwriting.
The inconsistency of the female Watson.
Yet she was clever in engaging me to make sure that Mademoiselle Yacklenhoff would be
suspected.
Mrs. Shelton, I must ask you to come with me to Scotland Yard.
Do you wish to make a statement?
Hm, hm.
You're not obliged to, but I warn you that anything you say will be taken down and may
be used in evidence.
I must go and free poor little Olga from prison.
She has suffered so.
She'll dance so much better now.
You mean then Holmes that you knew Mrs. Shelton had committed the murder, but the one thing
that confused you was her handwriting?
Her handwriting and character, Watson.
The evidence was logical, but the personalities were not.
Well, they were logical enough in their way, Holmes.
They were just feminine.
Yes, that's it, Watson.
They were just feminine.
I must devote more time to that, Watson.
I must devote more time to that.