Thank you.

I can't ever speak any whatever, 78.5. You know what I'm As our episode begins, a young woman working her garden becomes frightened, nearly out of her wits,

by what appears to be a simple child's drawing, dancing stick figures made in white chalk on the edges of her lawn.

Her husband looks on in utter confusion as she runs hysterically, seeking refuge inside their stately manor house.

And so begins the adventure of the dancing men.

In his 1999 book, A Study in Celluloid, producer Michael Cox recalls his feelings on this

dark mystery.

Although it is a particular favorite of mine, I doubt if there is a sadder story in the

whole canon, then this account of unexpected happiness destroyed by a message from the past. Hilton Cupid and his young wife have harmed nobody,

yet one of them meets a violent death and the other is left alone and guilty in a foreign country.

It is a bleak enough tale, yet it was high on Conan Doyle's list of his own favorites.

I think we brought one or two flourishes of our own to it, and I certainly

remember the filming of it with great affection. Bleak, as the outcomes of this story may eventually

be, back at Baker Street, Holmes and Watson enter our tale on a decidedly lighter note.

So, Watson,

you do not propose to invest in South African's securities.

How on earth do you know that?

Now confess, you're utterly taken aback.

I am.

I should make you sign a paper to that effect.

Why?

Because in a few minutes you will say it is all so observable.

...