.
.
Mr. Holmes!
Mr. Holmes!
Mr. Holmes!
Oh, may the saints above see fit that he comes back into him.
Mr. Holmes, where did you get that wallet?
It's not yours, is it?
Oh, no, it isn't.
But would you believe me if I told you I lifted it from a big pocket?
No.
You what?
Yes.
He lifted it from that gentleman over there.
And as he passed me in full flight, I lifted it from him.
Well, don't you think it'd be good to give it back to the owner before he leaves?
Ah, better than that.
I'll place it back in his pocket without him even being aware that it was taken in the first place.
Oh, Holmes.
Ah, but this is far harder than lifting a wallet and requires diligent training.
Watch me closely, Watson.
Oh!
Policeman!
Policeman!
Hey, this is Watson!
Watson!
Hold on to him!
I'll take the police!
Hey, Watson!
Hey, Watson!
Hey, Watson!
Hey, Watson!
Hey, Watson!
Hold on to him!
Hey, Watson!
Hey, Watson!
Hey, Watson!
Hold on to him!
Hold on to him!
Hey, Watson!
Hold on to him.
Hold on to him.
Hold on to him!
Hold on to him.
Do it!
Hold on to him!
Hold on to him!
Do it!
Hold on to him!
Hold on to him!
Hold on to him!
Hold on to him!
Hold on to him!
We're very lucky if this lady hadn't come into the office at that moment.
She'd still be in prison.
Well, I got it, sir.
It went wrong.
Probably a little more practice, was all I needed.
I suppose you wouldn't consider the other alternative.
Behavioring like a perfectly sane, normal human being.
Instead of going absolutely mad all over the...
Watch on her!
Who is he?
An Irishman by the colour of his shirt and the shamrock in his buttonhole,
but also conclude that he was a typesetter by the ink-stained condition of his fingernails.
Look, Holmes, that's neither here nor there. The man is in our flat. Do you know him?
I've never clapped eyes any before in my life.
Hey! Hey! I don't like to disturb you, but...
Hey! W-what time is it?
Four o'clock. Oh, good. We've still got eight hours.
Look, if you're a human being at all, you'll be helping me, Mr. Holmes.
My name is Watson.
There's Mr. Holmes.
Mr. Holmes, my name's Brian O'Casey. A man of propriety, poor as I am.
Oh, and mother forgive me. I wouldn't be breaking in here this way at all, only I'm the most desperate of men.
Yes, yes. So I gather from your note, Mr. O'Casey, you obviously shoved it under the door, ran away,
and then returned, fearing I might have overlooked you, eh?
Well, the cat might have run off with it. Are we most?
Oh, we haven't got a we-most here.
Well, you know what I mean? I didn't want to be missing you.
Not with 8,000 pounds at stake, so I came back here and I let myself in so that I'd be waiting for you.
Yes, well, that's most understandable, Mr. O'Casey. Now perhaps you'd like to sit down and have a rest.
Oh, thank you very much.
Did you know something?
My heart's beaten like a trip hammer.
Yes, I expect it is.
You were saying something about 8,000 pounds.
Well, that's the amount that's due to me. But unless I can get hold of Mr. Snowby midnight tonight, I'll not get a penny of it.
Who is this man? Snow.
Well, he's the man who's holding the last third of this ticket. You see, he's holding numbers 3 and 4.
And without these, we can't...
Just a minute, Mr. O'Casey.
I realize that time is of the essence, and I should very much like to help you indeed.
But perhaps you'll be good enough to start and tell your story right from the beginning.
Oh, yes, of course.
But where does it begin?
Now, perhaps it begins with this terrible feeling of home sickness I have.
It came on me all of a sudden, and it got worse and worse until...
I couldn't look at anything that didn't remind me of me home in County Cullarney.
Well, anyway, I was walking along this lunchtime, and I saw this woman, Belle Rogers.
And, well, you might have seen her yourself. In the Marilobin Road.
May the Saints punish me if I'm lying. She didn't know me at all, but she smiled at me.
I wasn't taught to be a fool. I lit off as fast as my feet could carry me.
Oh, yes.
Another glass of soda, please.
Brian O'Casey. I saw you in front of the baker's shop just now.
I'll wait before I can get your attention.
Oh, hurry, Albert.
What was the big rush?
Oh, I'm telling you, Albert, a man has to look out for himself in this city.
What do you mean?
Look, as plain as I'm standing here, she smiled at me. Right out in public.
Who?
That's Irina in the bakery window.
Now.
Twice.
What's the time?
Well, how the devil would I have to know on that?
You mean you didn't find out?
Well, can't you see, man, that's exactly what you wanted me to do.
Oh, I find good luck.
Good luck, you say?
No, look here, Albert Snow.
You don't mean any disrespect to your country, but the fact is,
oh, you've been saving me money for one reason only.
And that's to get back to where it was as soon as possible.
And no temptress with a honey tongue has gone to flamboyant boozle me out of it.
Okay, so you may be doing the poor girl an injustice.
Ah, but look, the fact is that she smiled at a perfect stranger.
And in a certain way.
Now, look, no woman is going to do that unless she's interested in getting the poor fool's money.
No.
Stay close, boy. She's followed me here.
Oh, there you are.
I didn't think she'd run off when I smiled.
Well, what do you want with me? It's in the window you belong.
I only want to talk to you.
Ask her to sit down.
What? But look, this is no place for a woman.
This is a tavern, you know.
You're ruining your reputation here.
People won't buy the cakes you make.
I'll only be a moment.
Right here, miss.
Roger.
Tell her, Roger.
Now, there's a name for you.
Beautiful.
My name is Snow.
Albert Snow.
This here's my friend, Mr. Brian O'Casey.
How'd you do it?
Come on, Brian, sit down.
How was it?
All right.
Now, listen, Mr. O'Casey.
Yes?
Would you be willing to give me a pound?
You see, I told you so.
No, wait. Let me finish.
Yes, let's a little tidy finish.
It's an investment.
I'd like you to be my partner in something.
What kind of something?
A sweet steak ticket.
A sweet steak ticket?
Yes.
I've got one, and I'd like you to buy half of it from me.
I don't understand any of this at all.
Call it superstition, Mr. O'Casey.
You see, I notice you're an Irishman from the bakery window.
That four-leaf clover in your buttonhole.
And since everybody knows the Irish are lucky,
I'd like an Irishman to be my partner.
Well, it isn't for a woman to be gambling.
Oh, perhaps not.
But since, thank you, if we win, we'll divide 24,000 pounds.
All right, and if we lose, which is much more likely,
I'll be able to pound, which is half a week's pay.
Now, wait a minute.
Oh, I've got an idea.
Why don't the three of us share a ticket?
You're going to afford that much, can't you, O'Casey?
It'd be going against fate to turn down a gesture like that.
Fate?
It's Kismet O'Casey.
But I never won anything in my life.
But all the better.
The law of averages is on your side.
Do you have the ticket with you, Miss?
Yes.
1-6-6-3-4.
Does that sell like a lucky number, or doesn't it?
Well, I suppose I could chance 13 shillings.
That's the spirit.
Now, wait a minute.
Who's going to keep this ticket?
We could tear it up three ways.
And each one of us keep a piece.
That way, no one person would hold the ticket
and be able to desert the rest.
Now, that's fair.
In order to catch him, we've all three got to come together again.
Here, O'Casey, tear it in three parts.
Well, now, look, we'll all have to keep our stoves in a safe place
because if one of us loses his, all three of us would suffer.
Right.
Now, shall we seal the partnership?
1-6-6-3-4.
No extra sweepstakes tickets drawn.
Lucky numbers listed.
Extra-extra-sweepstakes tickets drawn.
Lucky numbers listed.
Extra-extra-sweepstakes.
Do you want a paper, sir?
Oh, yes, sir.
Extra-extra-sweepstakes tickets drawn.
Lucky numbers listed.
Get your midday paper, sir.
Extra-extra-sweepstakes tickets drawn.
Oh, please be here.
I know other people want to win as much as they do,
but I'm hoping so much to see the sores of Ireland again.
1-6-6-3-4.
Oh.
It's not the first one.
Oh, well, maybe it'll be the second.
No, no, no, no, no.
Take it easy, Brian boy.
There's still five more numbers.
Extra-extra-sweepstakes tickets drawn.
Lucky numbers listed.
Extra-extra-sweepstakes tickets drawn.
Lucky numbers listed.
Extra-extra-sweepstakes tickets drawn.
Oh.
That Albert Snow.
I was mad to let him talk me into this.
Kismet.
Fate.
Aren't you going to build 13 shillings?
That's what my fate's going to be.
Oh.
1-6-6-3-4.
That's an ombar.
That's an ombar.
It's mine! It's mine!
This is where you take money, it's mine!
This is where you take money, it's mine!
Albert Snow, look.
I think it's been drawn.
I think it's been drawn.
Why do you think I'm crazy?
What are we going to do? Shall we sell it?
Come on over to the table.
We're getting the stock all that's left of us.
Wait, I'll get you there.
I knew it, Mr. O'Casey. I knew we'd be lucky.
Don't know why it was a problem not to be listening to you right off.
It was like I said, O'Casey.
Kismet.
Yeah.
But sit down, everybody.
Let's decide what our next step's going to be.
The question which confronts us now is,
shall we sell the ticket,
or own it on to it and go all the way?
Vernon Dream, our horse is at 20 to one shot,
but he could win.
I say, I say, let's go all the way.
Well, I'm not that much of a gambling man, myself.
But, Mr. O'Casey, you just admitted you were lucky.
You can desert us now.
Us? What do you mean, boy, Us?
Do you mean you both decided already?
Well, Bill and I have been seeing a bit of each other.
Actually, we speculated on what we would do if our ticket was drawn.
O'Casey, wouldn't you like to be rich?
Well, sure, and I would, but...
Let's put it to the vote. Majority wins.
No, wait a minute, Bill. Of course we'd outvote him.
But I think in a case like this, since we're all friends,
a decision like this should be made unanimously.
How about it, O'Casey? Come in with us.
It's a burning dream.
Hey, waiter, I'd have another beer as long as he's paying for it.
Where's O'Casey?
Burning dream one! Burning dream one!
It's fainting.
How do you feel?
Did you hear? Burning dream one.
It's rich we all are.
Yes, I heard.
Where's Snow?
I don't think he's coming.
What do you mean he's not coming? He's got a third of our ticket. He has to come.
I've been looking for him since last week when he broke an appointment with me.
Mr. O'Casey, he disappeared.
Disappeared?
Well, that was ten days ago, Mr. Holmes.
And disappeared he has, right off the face of the earth,
and a third of the ticket along with him.
I see. And now you only have until midnight to find him, eh?
Well, that's when the ticket becomes invalid, at midnight tonight, on the dot.
Yes, yes, well, that's serious indeed.
I should say so.
Well, look, do you think you can do something to help us?
Or he was told if anyone could perform a miracle towards you?
Well, that's a little exaggerated, but I'll do my best.
Where can I get in touch with you, Mr. O'Casey?
Well, you'll be fine to meet at the Golden Coach Inn tonight.
Miss Rogers and I decided to stay there until closing time, in case Albert should turn up.
Oh, good, good. Well, I'll look for you there then.
Thank you very much.
Oh, well, Mr. Holmes, I, uh, I noticed you were playing with those cards,
and it didn't miss me glance that you may want to disappear.
Yes, yes, well, it's not very difficult, you know, once you've got the knack.
Oh, I imagine not only, uh, I reckon the lights ought to be kind of low,
because I saw you put one, uh, right there.
Oh, yes, yes, yes, well, yes, well, well, good day, Mr. O'Casey.
Good day.
Yes, well, I'll work it out in time.
Why don't you give it up all together?
I was referring to the disappearance of, uh, Mr. Snow.
Oh.
Where are you going?
We are going to the baker's shop to see Miss Rogers Watson.
About what?
It's almost five o'clock Watson.
We have just seven hours until midnight.
If I'm right, Watson, this won't take more than a minute.
Good afternoon.
I'd like to speak to Miss Rogers. Is she here?
She left this morning.
Oh, why?
Don't ask me.
When I arrived, she was gone.
There was only a note from us saying she'd taken one of the twelve layer cakes,
which she would pay for in the morning.
Ah-ha, was it by any chance the white cake?
One of my very best.
Thank you very much for the information.
Good afternoon.
I was right, Watson.
Drive on, Cammie.
I was right, Watson. Drive on, Cammie.
Mr. O'Kasey... Mr. O'Kasey!
Oh, here. Take it easy. Come on. Sit yourself down.
What's the matter? What's happened?
The police. They found his coat in the river.
Albert.
Yes, it was all bloodstained and there was a bullet hole in it.
Oh, no.
I'm the ticket somewhere at the bottom of the river.
What are you going to do?
I'm going to throw my stubborn to the fire and watch it burn.
It's useless now.
Oh, and Miss Rogers.
Wait.
There.
Now give me your stubborn.
It was my idea to split up the ticket.
I'm going to throw my stubborn to the fire and watch it burn.
It was my idea to split up the ticket.
I deserve to see my mistake all the way through.
You may as well, Mr. Casey.
With Miss Rogers' stuff destroyed, yours, I'm afraid, has no value.
What? You told me there was hope.
Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I was mistaken.
You may destroy it now, Miss Rogers, if you wish.
Now it's all finished and done with.
We hope we're so high, seeing the shores of Ireland soon again.
But no.
It's perhaps a little tea.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
Yes, perhaps a little tea would improve your spirits, eh?
I can still see the picture of those two at that inn.
Taking a long time to get over that, Holmes.
Oh, I think you'll get over it sooner than you imagine.
Holmes, what?
Pleasure to meet you, my dear fellow.
The hand deceives the eye.
This afternoon, after I left you, I carved a piece of another sweepstake ticket.
On Miss Belle Rogers.
Neat, eh?
Would you like a little whiskey in your tea?
Do you go to the only help you sleep?
Blast the tea, Holmes. You're hiding something from me.
Well, nothing really, except that it occurred to me that Snow and Belle Rogers
had contrived to cheat O'Casey out of his money.
I was absolutely certain of this when we visited the baker's shop.
And I found out that she had taken a large white cake.
Well, what's that got to do with anything?
A large white cake, very appropriate for marriage, don't you think Watson?
You think they were married?
Or about to be.
Yes, but that still doesn't tell me what kind of a scheme they had.
Well, it was really quite ingenious.
Snow would go into hiding, and at the crucial moment,
give the impression that he'd been murdered.
Now, this was the cue for Miss Rogers to give up hope
and throw her stuff onto the fire.
Ah, yes, but it wasn't the real stuff,
the one that she had obtained, as I did.
Now, very artfully, she would get O'Casey's stuff from him
and pretend to do the same.
You...
You mean she really kept O'Casey's stuff and destroyed a dummy one?
Exactly.
Now, she and Snow would have had a complete ticket
if I hadn't substituted a dummy of my own.
That's amazing, oh, fantastic.
Well, everything makes sense now.
Or does it?
After all, you've no proof of anything.
Your whole theory is just a series of inferences.
If once your premise is wrong, the whole structure collapses.
Naturally, my dear Watson.
Naturally, my dear Watson.
I believe you've met Miss Rogers,
and this is the missing Mr. Snow.
I think you'd better fetch O'Casey now, Watson.
I can't predict what his feelings will be when he sees you,
but you know what Irish tempers are.
Why, say, Holmes?
Yes?
Don't you think that Mr. O'Casey's third share is worth at least half?
Oh, yes. Yes, quite right, Watson.
At least a half.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
Oh, yes.
