["Pomp and Circumstance"]
["Pomp and Circumstance"]
["Pomp and Circumstance"]
Wait here Slim, I'll be down in two shakes.
["Pomp and Circumstance"]
A visitor what's?
What it do's on?
Yes.
Young lady who arrived in a covered wagon.
A what?
A covered wagon.
What do you find strange about that?
["Pomp and Circumstance"]
I'm a lookin' Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
You've tracked him down madam, weren't you? Come in.
["Pomp and Circumstance"]
Name's Nitty Mallow Mr. Holmes, now run to Texas.
I'm sure Gordon know you.
I like that.
Pleased to know you.
We're the Bison Jacks Radio, I believe.
Say, how'd you figure that out?
Well, your dress is very charming,
but scarcely commonplace in London.
Well, didn't have a chance to change to my store clothes.
Came straight here from a hotel.
Who's he?
Oh, he.
Oh, no, no, no.
That's Dr. Watson.
My esteemed partner.
How'd it out?
How'd you do indeed?
I'm sorry to bother you boys so late,
but I got a case for you, Mr. Holmes.
You're gonna like this one.
Yes, yeah, I'm sorry.
Well, won't you sit down?
No time to sit down.
Not with that man in my hotel room.
Man in your room?
Don't get excited, Doc.
It's all right.
He's dead.
Oh, well, of course, in that case, I...
What, dead?
With his head doused up a little,
and my tomahawk laying next to him.
Great Scott.
Tell me, Mrs. Malley, who is this gentleman?
Dunno.
Ever saw the credit before in my life?
Walked into my room after the show tonight,
and there he was, stretched out on the floor, dead.
And it was your tomahawk?
Sure was, used in the show,
but left in my room tonight.
Shut up.
You got to get that ombre's body out of my room.
But, Mrs. Malley, one can't just...
Minnie is the name, Doc.
Well, Doc, what...
I mean, Doc is right, Minnie.
It's considered illegal to move a body from the place of crime.
Well, certainly is in England, of course.
I don't know what they do in Texas.
Well, it was illegal to tomahawk the crater in my room, too, wasn't it?
Well, I daresay it was,
but wouldn't it be simpler to notify the police?
Sherlock, out of Texas the way we call in a sheriff
when we want to make a fuss about something.
I don't want to make a fuss about this.
Just want to get that body out of my room.
Pronto.
Pronto? Is that his name?
What time would you talkin', Doc?
Uh, Minnie, why don't you want to make a fuss about it?
Well, I'm aiming to get myself hitched.
Hitched?
Hitched?
Well, who?
Lasso, tied down.
Wed and holy matrimony.
Oh.
And what would Freddie and his mother count to say
if they found they got a dead man in my room?
Well, Freddie, I presume, is your fiance.
Yeah? The Earl of Worcester.
Met him last week when he got tossed off a bronchal.
Landed in his lap.
Oh, I...
I don't think I've heard of the title.
Well, Freddie calls it something else, too, Doc.
But it's spelled W-O-R-C-E-S-T-E-R.
Worcester.
Oh, yes, I see, yes. Lord Worcester.
Mm-hmm.
It's more to be fit, be hard-tied,
if I doubt in any kind of scandal.
Uh, Anglo-American relations are involved in this Watson,
to say nothing of chivalry.
I don't care, Holmes.
I know about Anglo-American relations and then chivalry,
but just to say, my...
Doc, maybe you better stay home tonight
and leave this to me and Sherlock.
Yes, maybe you better.
It might turn out to be a rather risky business, Watson.
Well, I... I am...
Excuse me, what's, um...
What exactly is this?
It's a lasso, Doc.
Oh.
Well...
Throw a half of it.
Well, you throw a half of where?
Well, you don't really throw a half of it, Doc.
You just lasso it.
Like this.
Oh, really? What on earth do you think, young woman?
You'll do it. And then...
What is it?
All right, boys. Let me go.
I refuse point blank to traveling that disgusting conveyor.
Oh, don't be so narrow-minded, Watson.
Come on, get in.
I tell you, I refuse point blank.
Well, that's the way you feel about it, Doc.
You'll regret this.
Click away, Slim!
Hey! Hey!
Mayor Chloe has his principles!
Hey, you mustn't do this to me! What do you think you're doing?
Faster, Watson, faster!
What do you think you're doing? I can't put up with this little spag of you!
Come on, Watson, hurry, hurry.
Knees up, Mother Brow. Knees up, Mother Brow.
Come on, Watson, come on!
There he is, boys, just like I left him.
He's dead all right, isn't he, Doc?
He couldn't be deader.
Yes.
Nasty business, this.
Whoever did it wasn't satisfied to hit him just once with that tomahawk.
He hit him several times.
Looks like a vengeance-killing.
Sounds like an engine on the walkway.
I take it that this is the weapon you use in your performance, Midget.
Yep.
Bella stands there with a cigarette in his mouth,
and I throw the tomahawk at him, slice off his head,
and I throw the tomahawk at him, slice off his cigarette.
A bit risky, isn't it?
Not if I don't miss, Doc.
Oh, I see.
When do you estimate the time of death, Doctor?
Within the last two hours.
It's perfectly straightforward.
Penetration is a sort of rhythm.
He was hit more than once.
He aged about 30, I'd say.
And he had more glasses.
Huh.
I want it.
No means of identification in it.
Well, what's this?
No doubt about his profession, Watson.
Skeleton keys.
By Joe Holmes, a burglar.
That means, of course, he was after some jewels,
and he must have had a partner,
but he ain't got no jewels.
Just some old engine beads, and who'd want them?
Now, the problem becomes, where can we put his body?
Now, look here, Holmes,
we can't put his body anywhere that way.
That's preposterous.
I've got it. We'll put it in the next room.
Oh, now, look, Holmes, listen,
you've got to listen to me. You can't possibly...
Anglo-American relations, Watson, remember?
Careful about him, Jack.
He's got his room down the hall.
Thank you, my dear.
Relax, doc. Leave it to Sherlock.
My dear child, home to the last person I'd leave this to.
He has no more idea when to stop than any man I have...
Number 13, across the passage. Most appropriate.
Couldn't think of a better. Come on, now. Time's a-wasting.
Oh.
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
I don't...
...h-he him, with him.
All right, Barwas. All clear.
An old old Tomes.
Toads of you do eat cuddle along, not cuddle.
Mr. Holmes.
Hello, Tommy.
I've got something for you, Mr. Holmes. Something real odd.
Really, Tommy? What is it, eh?
Well, sir, I happened to be passing one of the rooms tonight, and I looked inside.
The door was open?
Not exactly open, sir. In fact, it was closed if you know what I mean.
Ah, yes, I think I do know what you mean.
Well, if a bloke wants to become a famous detective like you...
Well, really, Tommy, there are more ethical ways of becoming a detective than looking through keyholes,
but since you did, what did you see?
Someone's hand.
Boy! Boy!
Yes, ma'am? There's a mouse in my room.
I'll get it right out, ma'am.
How?
I'm coming right away, ma'am.
Madam, might I suggest that you try mowing?
Mowing?
Yes, madam. Mowing.
Hah! Disgraceful if you ask me.
I pay three shillings for my room, and I must mow like a cat.
Well, now, Tommy, perhaps you'll tell me about that hand that you saw.
Well, sir, all I saw was a hand turning a knob on a bed post.
Hand turning a knob on a bed post. That's very interesting.
Thank you very much, Tommy.
Thank you.
Now, run along and catch that mouse.
Thank you, sir.
Coming, madam.
The Tomahawk, I think, it's called, sir.
A native weapon of the North American Indian.
Uten times as a missile, and sometimes as a hand weapon.
Sir, when I want the history of the Tomahawk Wilkins,
I'll consult an encyclopedia.
Yes?
I'll come in, Holmes.
Dr. Watson?
Hello, Inspector Hyles.
Got your notice, trade. Anything interesting on hand?
Yes, murder. I thought you'd be a good man.
I thought you'd be interested in the kind of case you like.
Really? Why?
Well, the chamber made finding like this a little while ago.
Oh, poor chap.
Yes, it was killed by this Tomahawk.
It's a native weapon of the North American Indian,
sometimes used as a missile, sometimes a hand weapon.
That's most observant of your restraint.
Have you identified the victim?
Of course. It's a burglar, the name of Sly Sam Slife.
It belongs to Mr. Honeywell here.
Mr. Honeywell is a salesman, women's quarters.
Terrible, terrible.
A dead man in my room.
I should lose all my customers.
Yes, that must be very awkward for you.
Holmes, don't you think this is a time for the magnifying glass
and little detection?
Well, what's my don't really like interfering in the yard's cases?
Besides, it seems plain enough without magnification.
Oh, you mean Mr. Honeywell?
What?
I don't know anything about it.
Inspector, I'm innocent. Think of my customers all night.
Take it easy, Mr. Honeywell. No one's accusing you of anything.
Now, the way I see it is this, Holmes.
Sly Sam sometimes worked with a partner.
They were on a job here together tonight.
They broke into this room, quarreled over the loot,
and Sly Sam tomahawked him.
Who owned the tomahawk?
The tomahawk?
It's of course the trade, you know.
Sly Sam Slife's partner might have been a red Indian.
Are you coming, Watson?
Let me know if you'll find the owner of the tomahawk.
I'll be right back.
It was late in the afternoon,
and the grey, depressing London weather
did nothing to help clear up my confusion.
Holmes kept silent as we walked,
and it wasn't until the rain cleared and the gas lamps came on
that he started to discuss the case.
Yes, but Holmes, what I don't understand is,
who put the tomahawk next to the body?
I did.
You did?
Yes.
But Holmes, Minnie's our client.
So she is.
Yes, but we moved the body so she won't be involved,
and you implicated with the tomahawk.
But the tomahawk is evidence, my dear fellow.
Would you have me to stir up evidence?
That's illegal, you know.
Oh, really?
Yes, but...
I'm very surprised at you, you know,
because after all, Minnie is our client.
It's your duty to protect our clients, not to turn...
All right, boys. Grab air.
Grab air? What's she talking about?
Reach for the ceiling, Doc. You too, Sherlock.
Oh, I believe she means, uh, raise your hands.
Oh, why didn't you say so?
I'm right disappointed in you, Sherlock.
I thought you were a straight shooter.
You planted my tomahawk next to that critter's body,
so I guess I'll have to shoot you.
You got any last wishes, Sherlock?
Well, I...
And now we return to the case of the Texas cowgirl.
Quite simple, really.
The tomahawk I placed by the body
was the one I found in the potted plant outside Minnie's room.
The murderer undoubtedly hid it there,
hoping to recover it later on.
You mean he used two tomahawks to kill Slide?
No, just one.
He struck Slide with Minnie's tomahawk after he'd killed him,
thereby giving the impression that Minnie had done it.
Well, someone's trying to frame me.
Obviously.
Well, who is it?
Could it be somebody in the radio?
Well, no good, Doc.
Anyone in the rodeo saw this saw a boss and Jack, not me.
No one knows I'm a silent partner.
Who's that?
Oh, one of Inspector Lestrade's enemies, as I expect.
Come in.
Oh, Strolls, expect...
Inspector Lestrade asked me to give you this message.
Oh, thank you, Wilkins.
Aha. Just as I thought.
What is it, Sherlock?
Inspector Lestrade thinks he's found the owner of the other tomahawk,
the one that killed Slide.
But who's is it?
He doesn't say.
Well, come on, boys. Whoever the owner is,
he's the one that's trying to frame me.
Where's the Inspector, Sergeant?
In the room with the body?
No, sir. He's in the room with running water, this one, sir.
Running water? But we've all got running water.
He means chief running water, Doc.
The engine in the rodeo.
Oh.
Well, I took your advice, Mr. Holmes.
I found an Indian.
Chief running water here.
Indian to London, honestly.
All right, Chief.
Oh.
How do you do?
Oh, Lestrade has our friend admitted owning the tomahawk.
Well, I don't know.
He keeps saying the same thing every time.
You watch.
Now, I'll ask you once again.
Is this your tomahawk?
The one with whom?
You see?
He doesn't say anything, sir.
Oh, I...
I don't think I've heard the honor.
Oh, I beg your pardon.
Inspector Lestrade, this is Miss Minnie O'Malley
from Bison Jack's rodeo.
Oh, then, Miss, perhaps you can help me to make this gentleman
understand what I'm trying to ask him.
Sorry, Sheriff.
He's a Blackfoot.
All I speak is Apache.
Ha, ha, ha.
Tomahawk.
You catch him quick.
Kill White Chief.
Good morning.
Good morning.
Good morning, ma'am.
What do you want to do that for?
I reckon he thinks you're asking him to scalp you, Sheriff.
Holmes, this is impossible.
When it gets to the point where I have to learn Blackfoot
to talk to a murder suspect,
I'm going to kill him.
Oh, really?
Well, what's he saying?
I believe, sir, he says that Tomahawk
belongs to Big Chief Bison Jack.
When I want suggestions from you, Wilkins,
I'll ask for it.
What?
In the form of an arm of whoever on the phone.
He says that he saw Mr. Bison Jack tonight
in the corridor outside room number 13,
the room where the body of this thief was found.
He also suggests that perhaps we might...
Bison Jack?
Well, sure enough.
This is his Tomahawk.
Then it's not his?
Sure, sir.
The violent Tomahawk slashed my room
and then he went over.
In your room, Miss O'Malley?
Hey, slip of the tongue, straight.
Hey, slip of the tongue.
It's right, Sheriff.
Slip of the tongue.
Make him all the time.
Well, because that wouldn't make any sense either.
Wilkins.
Find this Bison Jack person
at whatever they call him
and bring him to room 13.
Yes, sir.
Is any of my Tomahawk, Sheriff?
Never seen it before.
Anyhow, Tomahawk's all look the same to me.
With the Tomahawk you loaned me for my act tonight,
left mine in my room.
You didn't give us your Tomahawk back to me, Mini.
I certainly did, right after the act.
I don't rightly recollect your giving it back.
Chief Running Water...
Damn.
Chief Running Water said he saw you
outside the door of this room tonight.
Yeah, I want to talk all the act with Mini.
Did Mr. Malley answer the door?
No.
No, but straight back to our room.
Did you get back here tonight before or after, Mini?
I've written this before.
At least, why, as many wasn't in a room and are not.
Tell me, Mr. Stray, did any of the guests report
missing jewelry here tonight?
No, why?
Well, they will soon.
But you gave the solution yourself, Mr. Strayed.
The murderer was Sam Sly's partner.
Weren't you, Mr. Honeywell?
I...
I don't know what you're talking about.
You stowed Bison Jack's Tomahawk
to kill your own partner here in this room.
Then you planned to move his body back into Bison Jack's room.
This is your room.
Bison Jack's room.
This is ridiculous.
If that's what I planned, why didn't I put the body into Bison Jack's room?
Because Bison Jack had already returned to his room from the rodeo.
In that case, I still wouldn't have left the body in my room.
I could have put it in another room.
Come, come, Mr. Honeywell.
Don't let's get academic.
Who placed the jewels in the bedpost?
Yes. Who did place the jewels in the bedpost?
Well, I...
I...
I...
Would your employment with a corset firm stand investigation, Mr. Honeywell?
Mr. Honeywell?
You see, that's the way back.
Yes, Dr. Watson. Nice rope in that corner.
He's all yours, Inspector.
Little list.
There we are. Oh, thank you, Watson.
Red.
See, you can really twirl that rope, Doc.
Oh, I don't know. I think as much to it once you get the hang of it, you know.
Say, Shella, how'd you know that Honeywell dragged the body from his room to my room?
Well, the tracks in the corridor.
Two heel marks in the carpet.
Quite obvious.
Golly, you could be an engine scout.
Many a bit.
May I ask you something?
Sure can.
Would you really have shot me?
Well, I reckon not.
Maybe just wounded a little.
Yes, do you, bud?
Yes, do you, bud?
Yes, do you, bud?
Yes, do you.
