Uh.
When.
One of the most unusual cases which Sherlock Holmes was ever called upon to solve began
in a small private school for boys in the north of Belgium.
The boys dormitory at four in the morning, lighted by a full moon, looked quiet and peaceful.
It would have been difficult to imagine that here began a train of events which filled
four graves before it was stopped.
Antoine.
He has gone out.
Didn't you try to stop him?
I called his name.
Either he did not hear or pretended not to.
I was afraid to startle him.
He has gone out.
This time, it's you.
He has gone out.
Mr Caron, is there anything wrong?
No, nothing, Antoine.
Go back to sleep.
What are you going to do?
The police?
It will be the end of my career.
You'll have to close the school.
Send the boy away?
Would that stop it?
I suppose not.
It's horrible.
Three deaths in three months.
Each one fought all by the writing on the church steps.
I still think the police...
No.
But your own life...
I've never felt in better health.
And...
I'm careful to keep out of drafts and avoid falling down stairs.
How can you joke at a time like this?
There's a man in London.
He solved cases even more hopeless than this.
Sherlock Holmes?
You thought of him? Let me write to him.
And ask him to do what?
To come here, investigate.
Find out who is responsible for those deaths.
And how a schoolboy can tell in advance who is next to die.
And have the school invaded?
Our teachers questioned?
Our boys terrorized?
I'll do my own investigating, Mr. Count.
In my own way.
Some weeks later, a letter arrived at Baker Street.
Holmes read it over once to himself and then aloud to me.
Dear Sir, it will be a source of eternal regret to me...
that I allowed myself to be dissuaded from writing to you sooner, Mr. Holmes.
Now Mr. Carolan is dead of natural causes.
The doctor says, though I am not sure he isn't mistaken.
I pray that you will come to Arno without delay...
and lend us your assistance...
in putting an end to these ghastly occurrences.
Respectfully yours, Mary Grond.
You deduce that the writer of the letter was young?
I go further than that.
I'm prepared to wager that she's madly attractive to Boone.
Better and better.
And at what do you base these interesting conclusions?
Wishful thinking, my dear chap. Wishful thinking.
Then wish no more. She is both young and attractive.
With hair the color of autumn honey.
Oh, did you read that between the lines?
No. This came with the letter.
A lovely color, you'll admit, Watson.
And from a beautiful young woman at that.
Now come, come, Holmes. That's neither logical nor factual, and you know it.
You aren't the only one privileged to think wishfully, my dear Watson.
Bravo! Say again. Take the case.
Yes, Nick, you packed for us both. I'll arrange for tickets.
The boat train took us to Dover.
By mid-morning the following day,
Holmes and I were sitting in the headmaster's study at the Arnault School
in the presence of Mademoiselle Maddy Grond,
who was indeed extremely attractive,
with hair the exact shade of autumn honey.
Then you're quite sure you've told me everything, Mademoiselle Grond?
That is only the matter of the old woman, but I don't think it's important.
Let me be the judge of that, Mademoiselle.
Her name is Madame Souley.
She's a harmless, feeble-minded woman
who sells charms and love filters for the ignorant.
Some have called her a witch.
I see. And what is her part in this affair?
She admits she went to see those whose names were written on the church steps
and offered to sell them some charms against the evil omen.
That's most interesting.
Did any of the other victims purchase these charms?
I can only speak for Monsieur Carolin.
He did not purchase them.
I can only speak for Monsieur Carolin. He did not.
Mm-hmm.
And what about the others? Were they persons of wealth?
No. Two were quite poor.
The third one moderately well-off.
We have no really wealthy people here in our nomistones.
Except, of course, the Count de Passement.
You know the Count?
No, indeed. I only happened to pass a carriage on the way
and I saw him resting his coat of arms.
However, I should like to have a word with this Madame Tsoulet,
if that can be arranged.
You have only to go to her house.
It's on the edge of town, on the North Road.
Monsieur Manelli, this is Monsieur Holmes and his friend, Dr. Watson.
Monsieur Manelli, our new headmaster.
Now that you're here, Mr. Holmes,
we have hopes at last of getting to the bottom of this terrible affair.
Thank you, sir. I can only hope to do my best.
Mademoiselle Grande has given you all the facts?
All the facts at her command.
Perhaps you can supply some additional ones.
I am sorry? No.
Mademoiselle Grande was the favorite member of the faculty here.
She had Monsieur Carolin's confidence, not I.
I see.
And now that I've had the honor of meeting you gentlemen,
I hope you will forgive me if I go to meet my class.
But certainly.
By the way, Mademoiselle, Dr. Dimanche is waiting in the vestibule.
Did you send for him?
Yes, I did.
I'll go and fetch him. I'll be back directly.
But the boy, Holmes, the boy, you haven't asked to see the boy.
The boy can wait, Watson.
Yes, but why show he's the most significant part of it?
Why? Because he did the writing on the church steps.
Yes.
I suppose in that case you'd say that the chalk also had significance.
No, no, it was just an instrument.
Precisely, my dear Watson.
I suppose you're right.
No, no, it was just an instrument. Precisely, my dear Watson. Precisely.
Mr. Holmes, this is Dr. Dimanche. Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson.
Pleased. How do you do, doctor?
Always happy to meet a colleague. Thank you, so am I.
I hope I haven't kept you waiting. I came as soon as I got Mademoiselle's message.
Won't you sit down? Thank you.
Mademoiselle Grant tells me that you're the physician who attended M. Carillon shortly before he died.
Yes. My last examination of him gave me no hint of what was coming.
I see. And yet you're positive he died of natural causes.
There's no doubt about it.
I believe three other persons died recently in Arnault, shortly after their names appeared on the church steps.
Did you attend them also?
Arnault is a small town. I'm fortunate or unfortunate enough to be the only doctor here.
Previous to your present fortune, or misfortune, you practiced in Paris, I understand.
I see Mademoiselle Grant has briefed you well.
I told nothing of your past, doctor.
Then how do you know?
Well, you dress with the flair of a Parisian.
If you'd been living here any length of time, I should imagine you would have acquired a more home-spun costume.
I might have ordered these from Paris.
On the income of a country physician, what do you think, Dr. Watson?
Hardly likely, Holmes.
Capital, Mr. Holmes. Your powers of deduction have not been overrated.
But you didn't ask me here to discuss my clothes or my income.
How can I help you?
Dr. Dimanche.
Of what exactly did M. Carillon die?
Heart failure. Were you carried out to post-mortem?
There was no need. The signs were obvious.
I see. And you saw nothing suspicious?
Either in the case of M. Carillon or of the other victims?
Not one thing, Mr. Holmes.
That's interesting.
Perhaps you'd care to put forward a theory of your own as to the connection between the prophecies and the deaths.
I have no theory.
The explanation lies either in the most extraordinary combination of coincidences
or in some sort of provision on the part of the boy, Antoine.
Do you believe in pre-vision or telepathy?
Years ago, my professor at Saint-Pétrier did suggest there might be something in it.
For myself, I don't know.
I neither affirm nor deny.
Then I believe you can tell me nothing more for the present, Dr. Dimanche.
Don't hesitate to call on me again.
No, I must go back to my surgery. I may have a patient waiting.
You never can tell.
I'll be here early tomorrow afternoon for the monthly examination, mademoiselle.
Dr. Dimanche examines your pupils every month, then, mademoiselle?
Yes.
The health of our pupils is of the greatest concern to us.
As I should be, mademoiselle Gant. As I should be.
You know, it's an extraordinary thing, the odorous, sordid illnesses that crop up in a boy's school.
Well, well, well.
You should have been more careful instead of running in the corridors.
Go now.
That is he.
So that's the boy who on four separate occasions was able to foretell the death of a citizen of Arles.
Well, there must be some logical explanation for it.
There is, Watson. There is.
Holmes, do you know how it was done?
Yes. That part was simple.
Our main difficulty will come when we try to prevent the fifth murder.
Turn to the case of the deadly prophecy.
The church on whose steps the deadly prophecies were written stood less than a hundred yards from the school.
I had supposed that Holmes, with his usual attention to detail, would want to examine it thoroughly.
But once again he surprised me.
He did not stop.
And I had a fair guess that perhaps he wanted to have a little talk with a certain Madame Souley.
Come in.
Madame Souley?
Come in, come in. I was expecting you.
I thought you would be.
Sit down.
Thank you.
Do you know why I've come to see you?
For help, naturally.
Score one to her, Holmes.
Let's call it information.
Hm?
Trifling bits of information such as, how came the boy by his deadly prophecies?
Whose hand was it that made them come true?
Suppose we start with a bit even more trifling.
You offered charms to the victims.
But how did you know who they were before they were struck down?
There were no announcements made.
If the Englishman will cross my palm with English gold.
You'll tell me?
I will give the Englishman a filter, warranted to make him see so clearly and think so lucidly
that all mysteries will be revealed to him.
It is as potent as the belief of the one who buys and uses it.
If those four had bought instead of turning me away, who knows?
But they did turn you away.
And now all are dead.
May I sell you a filter, sir?
It will guard you against harm.
Come, Watson.
Good day, Madame Sully.
You are a wise man.
You say little and listen well.
Good day to you, sir.
Filters, bosh!
We might be living in the Middle Ages.
Not the Middle Ages, Watson.
Merely a small European village.
Ah, Count Passavant, I believe.
Oui, monsieur.
How do you know?
I saw you in your carriage, sir.
Ah, are you enjoying your stay in our village, Mr. Holmes?
Do you know me, Count?
I saw you from my carriage.
Ah, bravo, Count.
As you say in France, touché.
May I introduce my very good friend, Dr. Watson?
Enchanté, docteur.
How do you do, sir?
Have you formed any conclusions, Mr. Holmes,
as to the names that were written on the church step?
Well, at the moment, Count, I must confess
that I am more interested in the names that were not written on the church step.
Mine hasn't been written on it yet, and I don't believe it will be.
Tell me, sir, you know this village.
Have you any ideas?
I am not superstitious, Dr. Watson.
I do not believe a...
You're not superstitious, Count.
Madame Souly's filter at least has a name.
Good day, monsieur.
Good day.
There were a few points about this case
which Holmes thought could best be cleared up in Paris.
He had asked me to go alone,
as the following night there would be a full moon,
and he wanted to stay in Arnault to be on hand, just in case.
What is it?
What's happened?
Nothing at all, Antoine.
You were walking in your sleep.
Now be a good boy and go back to bed.
I can't.
There's something I must do.
Not tonight.
Not tonight, Antoine.
Yes, sir.
What does it mean?
It means that nothing further will happen tonight.
Sleep well, mademoiselle Grand.
The carriage came to fetch me at the station.
Later, I found Holmes at the school.
Well, you may go back to your class now, Antoine.
Well, Watson, did you have a successful trip?
Yes, you were right.
Good.
Mr. Holmes, was the boy able to tell you anything?
No, but his silence was eloquent.
Oh, by the way, I should like to have the use of the headmaster's study
for a little gathering shortly before midnight.
You'll name the murderer?
Oh, he will name himself.
It's almost midnight, Mr. Holmes.
Must we wait much longer?
Ah, good evening, Count.
I think you all know Count Vassilvan.
Count, you met Dr. Watson in front of Madame Souley's cottage.
Would you be so good as to take that chair, Count?
Yes, I would.
I'll take it.
Thank you.
Good evening, Count.
Would you be so good as to take that chair, Count?
I expect you're all wondering why you've been invited here at such a late hour this evening.
Well, we are concerned with the murder of Monsieur Carillon
and of three other citizens of Arno before him.
Mr. Holmes, I assure you they died natural death.
I happen to believe that they were murdered.
Now, the question is, with what motive?
Profit?
These were ordinary people of modest means.
A murderer could scarcely hope to enrich himself at the cost of their lives.
Now, a thought occurred to me,
and I decided to go and see Count Passamon
and ask him if his life had been threatened, too.
It has been.
And this is the feature of the case that most intrigues me.
Blackmail has often been the prelude to murder,
but here, for the first time, murder became the prelude to blackmail.
What was demanded of you, Count?
One hundred thousand francs.
And if you didn't pay?
My name was next to appear on the church steps.
So you see, extortion was the motive from the first.
And to that end, an atmosphere of terror was built up by means of four successive murders.
It would take a man of superhuman courage to resist.
But, Mr. Holmes, the names were written by one of our pupils.
What possible connection could an eight-year-old boy have with such a scheme?
Yes, Antoine, just an unwitting tool.
Of whom?
The blackmailer must be someone who could have poisoned four people.
Don't distress yourself, Madame Souley.
The killer meant suspicion to fall on you.
But a person of your simple habits wouldn't play so dangerous a game.
No.
There is a suspect close at hand
who not only had an expert knowledge of poisons,
but to whom the boy has been far more accessible.
Accessible regularly, once a month.
This suspect was once a pupil of Dr. Charcot,
who lectured on hypnotism at Salpêtrière Hospital in Paris.
It would have been as easy for him to send Antoine on his monthly errands
as to wind up a mechanical toy.
Dr. Watson?
Yes?
Yesterday in Paris, you made certain inquiries
into the character and education of this suspect.
What did you discover?
I discovered that he was a spendthrift and a wastrel
who had quit Paris in order to escape his creditors.
It's a lie.
Calm yourself, Dr. Dimanche.
I, too, have dabbled in hypnotism.
This morning, Antoine and I had a little talk.
I suggested that he come down here at midnight
and point out the person who instructed him to write on the church steps.
The person he was instructed not to remember
when out of the hypnotic trance.
It lacks but one minute to 12 now.
Stay where you are, all of you.
Don't be a fool, Doctor.
When I visited your office this afternoon to look over your stock of drugs,
I took the very ordinary precaution of emptying the cartridges from your gun.
Should we wait for the boy to make the identification, Mr. Holmes?
Mademoiselle, Mr. Holmes' deductions are always completely truthful
and completely accurate.
But the methods by which he achieves these ends are not always so straightforward.
He said that he'd hypnotized the little boy to have him come here tonight at midnight.
How did you know it was a bluff?
You also said that the gun was unloaded.
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