Scene 15

INT. THE SITTING-ROOM AT 221b BAKER STREET.

The fire still blazes merrily.

HOLMES: ( Cheerily) Here we are! The fire looks very seasonal in this weather.

WATSON: You look cold, sir.

HOLMES: Perhaps that accounts for your silence during the cab journey.

RYDER: Well, I... That is to say...

HOLMES: Quite. Now then! Pray tell me who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting.

RYDER: My name is John Robinson.

HOLMES: ( Sweetly) No, no, the real name. It’s always awkward doing business with an alias.

RYDER: ( Groans)

He collapses into a chair.

HOLMES: Yes, do please take a seat. You too, Watson.

WATSON: ( Sitting) Thank you.

HOLMES: ( Sitting with a sigh) Isn’t this cosy? Oh - I believe you were going to tell us your name.

A moment.

RYDER: My real name is James Ryder.

HOLMES: Precisely so. Watson, you saw the account in the papers?

WATSON: ( Realising) You’re the head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan.

RYDER: Yes sir, yes I am. The business there - it’s upset me terribly.

HOLMES: I’m sure it has. Now: you’re interested in some geese?

RYDER: Oh, yes sir.

HOLMES: Or rather, I fancy, in one particular goose. White, with a black bar across its tail.

“Ryder quivers with emotion.”

RYDER: Oh sir! Can you tell me where it went to?

HOLMES: It came here.

RYDER: Here?

HOLMES: Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. It laid an egg after it was dead.

RYDER: ( Whimpers)

HOLMES: The bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen.

( Suddenly cold as ice) The game’s up, Ryder.

RYDER: No! No...

He staggers to his feet, swaying perilously.

He knocks the fire-irons to the hearth. They clatter.

( Reacts with a start)

Watson rises and catches him.

WATSON: Hold up man, or you’ll be in the fire.

HOLMES: That’s it, Watson, give him an arm back into his chair.

WATSON: ( Doing so) There. Easy, now.

A moment.

RYDER: ( Pants weakly)

HOLMES: Look at him. He’s not got enough blood in him for felony.

What a shrimp it is, to be sure. Give it some brandy, Doctor.

WATSON: Very well.

He pours some, passes it across.

WATSON: Here.

RYDER: ( Almost inaudibly) Thank you.

He drinks, splutters, quietens down.

HOLMES: Now, Ryder. I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need. You had heard of this blue gemstone of the Countess of Morcar’s, and - ( contrived a plan to steal it... ) RYDER: It was Her Ladyship’s waiting-maid told me about it. Cathy -

Catherine Cusack. She put me up to it! She said if I got it, she would... she would...

He can’t go on.

HOLMES: Yes. So what did you do? Somehow or other, you knew that this man Horner had been concerned in some such matter before. You made some small job in my lady’s room and sent for him. Then you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate individual arrested.

Ryder “throws himself down upon the rug and clutches at Holmes’s knees.”

RYDER: For God’s sake have mercy! Think of my father! My mother! It would break their hearts!

WATSON: For goodness’ sake, man.

RYDER: I never went wrong before! I never will again, I swear it. I’ll swear it on a Bible. Oh don’t bring it into court! Say you won’t!

HOLMES: ( Very angry) Get back into your chair! It’s very well to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor man Horner, in prison for a crime of which he knew nothing.

RYDER: I’ll fly, Mr. Holmes. I’ll leave the country, sir. Then the charge against him will break down.

HOLMES: Hmm. We’ll talk about that. But first, I want to hear a true account of this matter. How came the stone into the goose and the goose onto the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety.

RYDER: Oh Mr. Holmes. Sir.

HOLMES: Get on with it.

RYDER: ( Collecting himself) Well, it happened just like you said. As soon as Horner had gone, I smashed open the jewel-case and got the stone. Then I ran out to the street and found a constable. When we got back to the hotel, the old lady - that is, Her Ladyship - had got back and was screaming the place down. Course a constable wasn’t good enough for her, she had to have an Inspector at the very least.

HOLMES: Friend Bradstreet of B Division.

RYDER: Yes... Proper put the wind up me, he did. Made me identify Horner.

HOLMES: Where was the gem while you were perjuring yourself at Scotland Yard?

RYDER: In my pocket. As soon as I could get away I high-tailed it for my sister’s house. In Brixton.

WATSON: Mrs. Oakshott.

RYDER: That’s right. All the way there, every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective, ready to put the finger on me. The sweat was pouring down my face by the time I got there.

We move to a flashback: