BASELTON ESTATE and THE GREY GOOSE THE STORIES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES

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Welcome everyone to the new 1001 Sherlock Holmes Stories podcast.

Here you'll find a collection of Sherlock Holmes adventures,

as well as the best of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories.

Some from our archives at 10001 Classic Short Stories and 10001 Stories for the Road,

and some newly produced, all here for your entertainment.

Wow, you need a complete break and I've got just the idea.

What about a trip to Great Britain, huh?

We can wrestle up the money somehow.

If Queen Victoria is Jubilee Year and June they're having a big celebration.

21st of June is the Great Day.

What say we go over and join in, huh?

We present the stories of Sherlock Holmes.

The battle room is fake.

It was 1887.

Queen Victoria's Jubilee Year and the spring was quite perfect.

Days were sunny and bright.

Gafferdeals bloomed in the parks as workmen became busy cleaning statues and public buildings,

and London began to wear a festive air.

Sherlock Holmes had just returned from the capitals of Europe,

where he'd been working on a case of international importance.

He was extremely pleased to be back home and set for long hours at our windows and

Baker Street, looking down at the traffic and the people in the street below.

Ah, I must admit, it's very pleasant to be back in London and surrounded by all the old

familiar things, Watson. One tries not to apply sweeping statements and generalization

about other nationalities, but the fact is that the Germans are heavy and humorous.

The Italians are excitable and the French unpredictable.

The French women do dress better than others, and they can make a wonderful meal,

a lot of hardly anything at all.

I'm Greg, your stay on the concert makes you appreciate the English films.

Personally, I'm never really happy when I'm abroad.

I'm very good, perhaps, as acceptable, even there.

I feel out of place.

To vast and interesting country, but for the observant,

Americans are quite easy to pick out and acryote.

For instance, Watson, the lady across the road was just paid off the cabbie of that handsome.

Now, she could well be one of our American cousins.

What makes you say that?

Well, she's unfamiliar with the currency, you see.

The cabbie had to show her which coin for which, so she doesn't live in England.

Yet she conversed with him fluently enough, which shows that they've been talking in English.

She's smartly and expensively dressed, but she's carrying a large,

buckskin bag instead of the conventional British handbag.

It's attached to a length of raw hide, a carrot from the shoulder.

When I was in a medical last year, I saw many,

winning with those bags, I'd never seen an English woman use one.

Ah, she's looking at the numbers of the houses.

I think Watson had about half a visitor.

What's the betting against her being an American lady?

If she looked quite English to me, but Holmes was right about her visiting us.

She walked up the steps with a confident air, the doorbell rang,

and I remembered it was Mrs. Hudson's day off, so I went down and opened the door.

I found myself looking into an amazingly bright pair of blue eyes.

This, with a massive black hair, over an oval face and gentle smile,

created as lovely a picture as I'd seen that spring.

She requested an interview with Holmes in a soft American accent,

so Holmes was right again.

Up in our sitting room, she introduced herself.

My name is Charlotte Bazelden. I'm from Boston, the USA.

I miss thank you very much, Mr. Holmes, for granting me this interview without an appointment.

It's my pleasure. You found me as an unusual time,

I have nothing important to work upon.

I take it that you wish to ask my advice upon some matter of importance.

A delicate matter that requires a discreet inquiry, perhaps?

That is quite correct. I am unfamiliar with such procedures in this country.

I have of course heard of you, and I know that while you have often worked with the police,

you are not part of them, and so anything I say will not be repeated.

I am most anxious to avoid a scandal.

You see, nothing criminal has happened, at least so far.

Please, I understand.

Tell me what's troubling you.

From the very beginning, when your anxiety started,

try not to leave anything out, even though it may seem very unimportant.

Very well, but it is hard to say when I began to worry.

You see, the position is this.

My husband is heir to a larger state.

He is the great nephew of Lucas C. Bazelden, the Texas cattle millionaire.

LC, as he is popularly known by, has never married.

He is now a very old man and quite ill.

He has no near relatives except my husband James,

and another great nephew, Philip.

Philip has proved himself just a no good.

He is a waste ruler, knock it out.

What do we call smart Alec?

In fact, the very reverse of my husband.

I see, got him.

James is a very independent man.

When young, he has scorned LC's wealth and influence,

and went up to Australia to make his own way.

The family lost touch with him.

So much thought they assumed he was dead.

During this time, Philip led a life of ease and luxury,

he got into debt.

But his prospects were extremely good.

He was to inherit LC's raster state.

He went to a money lender and raised a huge sum of money.

He speculated, and with his usual carelessness, lost most of it.

And then your husband returned from the dead, is it right?

Quite.

You realize what this means, Mr. Holmes?

Oh, yes.

Being the oldest and nearest, he's able to claim your states

when Lucas C. Bazelden dies.

Philip's will be out in the cold.

And the money lender will have absolutely no chance

of getting that fast sum plus interest back again.

So this means between the money lender and his money,

that only stans your husband's life.

And proceed, please.

Well, all LC is very ill.

The doctor is a holdout, very little hope.

And well, the fact is that I am convinced

that during the next few days, an attempt will be made

upon my husband's life,

and the attempt will be made here in London.

Your husband is in London.

You know where he's staying?

No, but he is here.

He came over with a man called Peter Cartel.

Peter Cartel is in the pay of Amos Saltman, the money lender.

James does not know this.

He thinks Peter is a good friend.

When James and I agreed to separate, Peter saw his chance.

He comforted James and suggested this trip to England.

Since I left my husband, I have found out many things.

One is that Peter Cartel stands to gain $20,000

if the estate goes to Philip and not James.

In other words, $20,000 is the blood money,

the money lender will pay him to kill James.

I see.

And James thinks Peter is his best friend.

Very nasty crap.

That's four wonders for him.

All we have to do is to find your husband.

Have you any means of identification?

Well, I have a photograph of my husband.

It is here in my bag.

Here it is.

And on the back is his name and address in Boston.

That is our old address.

I am staying at the Westbury Hotel in New Barn Street.

You can reach me there anytime.

Please, please, Mr. Holmes.

You will see what you can do to help me.

Won't you?

Hey, Burns, if I don't, I will try to help you.

Thank you. I...

I would stress the fact that I don't wish the police

all the newspapers to know about this.

It would create a dreadful scandal.

And that would easily find a way back to the state.

I quite understand.

I shall see what I can do.

Now, now I ask you a coffee,

for my fan Watson calls a cat to take you back to your hotel.

Have no fear.

We should be in touch quite soon.

I saw Charlotte Baselder now and went into a handsome cab.

I could tell she was most grateful to Holmes,

but not at all sure of his chances of success.

I was anxious to resume the rounds of my patients,

but I had to ask Holmes what he intended to do

about this most curious case.

I shall, of course, test check all the fashionable hotels

along the park and pick it daily.

The two visitors, Peter Kotl and James Baselderne,

will be using their own names.

Kotl, they're not too otherwise,

a fear of rousing his friend's suspicions.

They will also be using a bank near a hand

on Cannot Live Without Money,

especially on a trip from America.

They should be quite easy to trace.

Yes, I shall find them all right.

And then?

Then I think I should take a stroll through Soho.

This Peter Kotl is over here with the express intention

of killing his best friend,

and he will not do the killing himself.

He'll hire someone to do the job for him.

And that is why I shall seek out our man known as

Roll the Ferryt.

Who's it?

Ferryt.

It's shortly there.

Excuse me, it's shortly, man.

I think I know just where to find him.

Excuse me.

Now, welcome.

There's much work to do.

Hey, hey, watch it.

That's where you're going.

Oh, well, Mark Falk is a gigafit yourself.

Oh, is that so?

Now you look here.

If you want to make anything obvious,

get out of this crowd.

Well, that's not a bad idea, Rale.

I don't think you can talk very comfortably in this noise.

Let's move down the side street.

What the, why?

It isn't supposed to show up now.

That's correct.

I can see you for some months.

Are you busy?

Uh, sir, sir, sirs?

Why?

I can't accommodate you with it, sir.

With what?

Of course.

What's it is, darling?

Information?

Of course.

I've reason to believe that an American gentleman

by the name of James Bazeldon

is about to meet his end here in London.

He's staying at the Grogan House Hotel

with another American Peter Kotl.

Kotl is the man who is behind the assassination.

He must be looking for someone to do the job.

Is there any room as well?

No, I don't know.

I could ask a few questions.

I should be very grateful.

My client will pay handsomely.

Here, this is a photograph of the intended picture.

Ah, sir.

Right over the house, I tell you, sir.

That's correct.

But you have to move very quickly.

I mean, Clara, as I made this morning,

the two men are due to leave for a tour

of Scotland within the next two days.

They're only booked in at the hotel

until the day after tomorrow.

I know that Kotl went to his bank at noon today

and changed the $1,000 American dollars

into British sufferings.

Now this would be the payment for the killing.

Well, that's all the money, talk, say.

Well, if there's any talking going on,

I'll make sure I hear it.

Now worry me, sir,

if there's a job being planned

and I shall phone out of all about it.

Good, but as I say, you must move fast.

If Kotl has the medication,

if they're moving out the day after the murder,

then it's clear that the murder is planned for tomorrow night.

Get to work, Ralph.

Live up to your name.

Feriti's out.

And quick.

I was extremely busy for the rest of that day

and saw little of Holmes,

who seemed quite preoccupied

and didn't mention the bezel

in the state of case at all,

even over breakfast the next morning.

But at lunchtime, when I came back to Baker Street,

there was a rather scruffy looking man

launching around the steps of 221 B.

He inquired after Holmes

and said his name was Ralph

and he had something of importance to impart.

I knew immediately what it was about

and showed him up to our rooms.

There, over a tasty lunch in a bubble and squeak,

Ralph of Feriti told us all he'd uncovered.

I said to me tonight, Mr Holmes,

man is doing the job as a big spaker.

No one has received a hundred wooden advance

and the balance is when it's all over.

Where and how, Ralph?

Somewhere in Greek Street,

how so one of the restaurants?

I think which one?

I don't know.

Biggs is one of his favourite-ing answer.

Place donors, Aristotle,

is most likely.

I can't tell you the time either,

but could be any time between eight o'clock and midnight.

That's the matter of the late at the better.

I doubt if it'll be before nine.

Good work, Ralph.

Now, here is what I wish you to do.

You'll find someone to give you a hand

as this cannot be stopped without plenty of help.

I need three men to create a street scene.

Now, listen very carefully.

Having enlisted these men,

you will arrange to patrol Greek Street

from eight o'clock onwards.

Station yourself outside, Aristotle,

and I shall arrive to give you final instructions.

I don't worry, there have been no police interference

in as little trouble as possible.

Now, finish up the bubble and squeak.

There's a lot for us to do.

What's I take it so you will have completed your day's work

by six o'clock and will be willing to

join in the evening's activity.

If you try to prevent me, there'll be trouble homes.

Good.

Very well.

We shall meet later in from seven o'clock onwards.

We shall be outside the Groven House Hotel.

It could be a very long and quite dangerous evening,

so both of you come prepared.

I found it hard to concentrate

while I worked for the rest of that afternoon.

I simply couldn't see how homes could prevent

an underworld crime of this magnitude

without a sensation and perhaps bloodshed.

However, I agreed to pocket my service

revolver when we left Baker Street.

And in the warmth of that April evening,

I stood with homes opposite the Groven House Hotel.

Good job, the evening's so mild homes.

At least we can sit on one of the park benches

without a rousing killing ourselves.

Yes, yes, yes, that is fortunate.

But can't you tell me what to anticipate?

I mean, what form do you think this murder plot could take?

I can't say.

And however fairly sure the Peter Kotl

would not be actively involved.

That means that James Baseldon

was somehow be lured into so hope.

Is that why we're watching Watson?

If only we knew I was taking place at this very moment

between those two men, we should have a clear idea

about how to go about things.

I'm only sure that Peter Kotl

is about to put his deadly plan into action.

Baseldon will of course not suspect a thing.

I'm sorry that I have to go out straight away James,

but how much drive picks up this unexpected business

with an export firm.

Oh, I thought you'd done all that.

I couldn't finalize it till after hours.

Look, it won't take long.

Look, I have a table booked at Aristose for 8 o'clock.

It's that great little place in Soho.

You know, we went there a couple of nights back.

Why don't you go there?

I'll join you as soon as I fix things up.

Well, I can wait here.

No matter of fact, I don't care if we don't go out at all.

Come on.

It's our last night in London until Jubilee Day.

And then the city will be crowded.

We can have a leisurely meal

and maybe fix ourselves up with a couple of girls.

There's some great look around Aristose.

Oh, no.

I kind of dislike that casual stuff.

Ever since I left Charlotte, I...

Well, I've been thinking I made a mess of my love life.

No. Come on.

At least let's have a decent meal out.

We came over here to cheer you up, remember?

Oh, all right.

I'll meet you at the restaurant at 8 o'clock.

But don't keep me waiting there too long, will you, Pete?

I'll be there just as soon as I can.

I'll go ordering a handsome right now.

See you later, James.

And don't flirt with too many girls.

Do I get this?

There, Watson.

See?

The handsome cab is awaiting

that his beta cultural getting into it.

Quickly, take the other cabin for him.

Stay near him and report back to me in Greek street

as soon as you find out where he is.

Now hurry now, Watson, hurry.

I did as I was told.

And it was a most curious experience.

For nearly an hour,

my cabby followed Godfrey's handsome

about the streets of London.

Had I not known otherwise,

I should have thought the man was simply on a sightseeing tour.

We trotted our way around the Tard of London's

portals and embankments,

and along to Buckingham Palace,

fall ending back in Park Lane,

with a cultural alighted at the grove in a hotel again.

He had carried simply been killing time.

It was eight o'clock.

I inquired from the hotel reception

and was told that Mr. Cotterall had just come in.

I missed a basil in a left half an hour before.

I took the handsome to Greek street.

Ah, there you are, Watson.

What's your news?

Cotterall, let me a rare chase.

All over in London, stopping nowhere,

just riding a bow until he ended up back at the hotel.

Yes, that's as much as I anticipated.

Meanwhile, basil done is in that restaurant.

I've been in only sitting at a table in a corner

and looking very annoyed.

Also, in the restaurant,

is the man riled a ferret

as identified as big spaker.

This is how much of a supposing that killing takes place in there.

Not in a district like this, Watson.

Restaurant's particular about keeping their custom.

No, if they'll be when basil didn't leave the place,

even wise enough to walk towards

Soho Square to find a cab, this is most likely.

The digs will almost certainly follow.

A scuffle, a flash of a knife, and then it will all be over.

What do we do?

I look across the road near the entrance,

round, and some friends are ready.

So is that waiting three wheeler?

There's some movement.

Come on Watson, basil done's about to leave.

We must get you in before digs fake it does.

Come on.

Well, you can, sir.

Nice evening.

You've been eating the cab, sir.

Oh, no, thank you, I should walk.

I won't do that, sir.

Not if I was you, it's dangerous.

Much better to come with me.

That's why you've got to leave.

Oh, the pier.

I guess you want trouble, and so...

No, no, no, why is that?

Come on, come on, come on, come on.

Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.

Move it, come on, come on, come on.

The street suddenly seemed filled with activity.

Three men seized James Baseldon,

and within seconds a pad of trotiform was placed over his face.

The cab moved forward.

Raul, Holmes and I clamid in beside the half and conscious form of Basildon.

And we set out at a spanking pace for Baker Street.

Once in our rooms, Baseldon was given a heavy sleeping draft,

and I was told to watch over him.

Holmes left once again, and I guess he was going to interview

the man who'd caused all this trouble.

Peter Cotterall.

You who are Peter Cotterall?

That is correct.

Who are you?

That day you first went into the hotel room.

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

You're lucky to be dealing with me,

and not with our Metropolitan Police,

so he didn't scoff and get out.

What are you talking about?

Get out of here.

No, no, no. You are the person who is going to get out.

Get out of the country and keep out.

I'd also advise you to stay away from your home in America,

and the clutches of Emma Steltman,

the money lender,

in whose pay you have been for many months.

I don't know.

I don't know what you're talking about.

How dare you choose me of having dealings with money lenders?

Now stop blustering, Cotterall.

James Baseldon knows the truth.

We have proof of your activities,

and Philip Baseldon's debts have been made public back in Boston.

I'm offering you your one chance to escape from the charge of attempted murder.

The man digs Baker's prepared to give evidence?

Now, will you listen to reason?

Well, what are you going to do?

Nothing.

If you obey my instructions,

you still have a reasonable amount of money in your account at the bank.

Tomorrow you will withdraw it all and buy a ticket on the next packet steamer for France.

Once there, you will quietly disappear.

If you appear again either in London or Boston, I will have you arrested.

The choice is yours.

I'd make your own way,

somewhere else in the world,

or face ruin an imprisonment.

Well, Cotterall, what do you say?

Holmes returned surprisingly early and related all that had occurred.

James Baseldon was faster-steep in the sparrow.

I kept the adjoining door open during the night in case he woke, but he didn't.

It was quite late the next morning when he opened his eyes.

Well, my head...

Where's the devil?

You've woken up at last.

How do you feel?

Who the heck are you?

What am I doing here?

I haven't been asleep.

I've been drugged.

I remember now.

I was in that restaurant in Greek street.

I came out and I was attacked.

I demand an explanation for it.

Cotterall, you hold me here against my will.

You are not being held against your will.

You've been brought here for your own good.

There was a plush against you.

You know, a very lucky man was the Baseldon.

But against me?

What the devil are you talking about?

And how do you know my name?

What is always me?

I not only know your name, I know all about you.

Your failed marriage, your dying uncle, your trip to Europe.

I also know more about you than you know yourself.

Stop talking nonsense.

Find me held here against my will and kindly order me a cab

and let me return to my hotel.

Perhaps my friend Peter Kotsel can sort this out.

Your friend Peter Kotsel is not at the Grovener House Hotel.

And you will be surprised to hear that he is not your friend,

but your most deadly enemy.

Now, Mr. Baseldon, you rise and don't address him down.

Over a good old-fashioned English breakfast at Eggerton Bacon

and Indian tea, I will explain to you in great detail

how you are now still living and able to enjoy life

on the Baseldon Estate.

At first, James Baseldon was reluctant to accept our hospitality.

But he could see that neither Holmes nor I

were the criminals he first took us to be.

He was a very puzzled man as he sat at our dining table

and toyed with breakfast,

as Holmes went over the case from the very beginning.

As Holmes told the tale,

the skepticism gradually faded from Baseldon's face

and an expression of wonderment grew in his eyes.

The disbelief vanished when Holmes explained

that his wife had brought the investigation about

and that it was through her love and loyalty,

the Kotsel's treachery had been exposed.

I was forced to do a little bluffing in the end.

Of course, I told Kotsel that I had proof of his dealings

with Amos Feldman, the money dealer.

I hadn't.

I told him also that your cousin Philip's debts were well known.

They aren't.

I also told him that Diggs Bakers prepared to give evidence against him.

He isn't.

In fact, Diggs is getting off extremely well with one hundred pounds

in cash for a crime he wasn't able to commit.

Unfortunately, we cannot bring him to book, not this time.

But his type will be called eventually,

before he does another killing, I hope.

But if he goes free, at least you are free also.

Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, if all you say is true,

then I am forever in your debt.

I owe you my life.

Still seems quite incredible that Peter Cartel could have

well deceived me in such a fashion that I suppose I have to face the fact.

I guess I'd be in just plain stupid.

But I should have listened to my wife.

Yes, yes, I think you should.

But she's took the whisper hotel not far from here.

When you've finished your breakfast, that's you'd like to take a cab round there?

I must certainly will.

Thank you.

Again, both of you.

Is there anything else I can do for you?

Well, there is one thing.

I guess I'll never get used to drinking tea.

Do you think I might beg a cup of strong coffee before I go?

Listen again next Sunday to the stories of Sherlock Holmes,

with Graham Armitage's Holmes and Kerry Jordan as Dr. Watson.

Well, Holmes, what's on this is a great pleasure for me to welcome you to the Villa Bartiq here at La Palais.

I hope you'll stay on the island.

It will be both comfortable and interesting.

May you have a wonderful holiday, my friends.

Thank you, Andre.

You have very good health.

And many thanks, Mr. Dorian.

Andre, please, I'm only too proud that the Belialin...

What's with you?

With your help?

The yacht?

They're great goods.

The captain sends me.

The owner, Henry Buckley, he is sitting at the desk in his cabin.

And he is dead.

We present the stories of Sherlock Holmes.

The great goods.

Sherlock Holmes and I were taking one of our very rare holidays abroad together.

It was in the summer of 1983 and the weather was glorious.

Holmes had just finished an international place in Geneva,

in which he had managed to greatly help Andre Loyer, a French diplomat and businessman.

Loyer showed his gratitude and practical terms.

Part of which was to press an invitation upon Holmes and me

to visit his villa at the Palais on the Belial.

That comparatively little known island in the Bay of Viscay was,

and those days quite unspoiled.

And we were allowed to enjoy ourselves enormously.

When that lunchtime, a sailor from a British yacht flying at anchor out in the harbor,

came with an urgent request for help.

As we were rode from the shore,

Andre Loyer, I explain.

The yacht I had is the great goose.

She is owned by Henri Bartini.

You may have heard of it, quite a rich man.

In the similar business to myself,

he married the French girl, Marcel.

They sell these waters quite regularly as the Barclays of a house in Nantes.

The captain of the great goose is French.

Heaves out now.

There is a crew of three with Marcel and the mayor's secretary.

And she's a fine looking yacht.

You know this man, Barclay?

Well, reasonably well done.

I'm surprised to hear that he has died so suddenly,

although many years older than his wife,

he always appeared in excellent help.

But perhaps the captain can tell us the nature of the illness.

I'm very glad you are with us, Watson.

We are rather isolated on the island,

and have no skewed medical help.

I have been happy to be of service from the unpack there.

Well, here we are.

The captain is waiting for us.

Come.

Yes, Monsieur, I help you.

Come.

After you, Holmes Watson.

Thank you, Matthew.

We climbed aboard the great goose

and found the captain waiting for us.

After the necessary introductions,

he showed us down a smoke and panning way

into the master cabin.

It was furnished as a comfortable lounge,

but also had the air of a businessman's office.

Our attention was immediately focused upon the desk.

Spulled across it was the body of Henry Buckley.

His face was contorted in a deaf agony.

Hands extended,

as though it clutched the sides of a writing blotter.

Nothing has been disturbed in the studio that I own.

The moment I was told of this,

I looked the cabin door and sent a shore for you.

I knew that you had two Englishmen staying with you.

This yacht is registered in Gwetperton.

Therefore, it is British property.

It has to be reported to the correct authorities

that it's on our side.

I understand.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes is a very famous detective.

There will be no difficulties.

He will take charge from now on.

Good.

Meanwhile, I understand the good doctor.

He can make the examination.

Of course, if you wish me to.

It must have been a heart attack.

If you will please.

There are one moments before you touch the body,

but may I make a few observations.

So start with us,

he says, Mr. Balker,

here to be writing a letter.

May I agenda now,

but they can slide the letter out

from under the outstretched hands.

This is just a business letter.

Address to the manager of Stuart Bank London.

Beads.

The innocent Baltimore.

I've been going through my accounts

and find, for my past book,

that I have three checks cashed for £500 each.

I cannot recollect that I have

been drawn this money on those days.

They are cashed to better checks.

In close of the bank statement,

with the withdrawals concerned,

after the cross.

As I should in none for some months,

I should be obliged if you would inquire

through your blocks

from cash to checks.

That's if it's possible to trace the person in question.

I'm sure there has been some

in the letter that breaks off.

That's interesting.

This is what he was writing

on the so-called counter-attack to press.

So it would appear?

I am.

I think I should ask a few questions

from the crew on your secretary

before reporting this official caption.

I can't tell me how you came to be here.

The purpose of this clip?

It is what we do every year.

We leave South Antana and crew it down to the Mediterranean.

Always be calling at none to stay for a while at the house.

But sometimes, if it is,

whether it's particularly fine,

as it is now,

we take our time and be calling at the Belli.

Average here was an eventful.

We anchored here early,

having arrived outside the harbor at dawn.

Now, the bus has been assured.

At about 11 o'clock, Mr. Barclay came down here

to his cabin, giving orders that he was not to be disturbed

until lunchtime.

At noon, his steward knocked at the door

with a trail of drinks.

He entered.

Mr. Barclay was writing and he left the train,

and went out.

At one o'clock,

he returned to say that the lunch was ready,

and he found it.

Everybody, just as you see it.

No one else has been made more up.

Not to my knowledge.

Everywhere.

Well, I suggest we leave my good friend Watson

to conduct it in examination with that interruption.

When I have a talk to the steward in the secretary,

it will have to be continued.

You mean me, of course.

Good, then, Leedon.

Excuse us, Watson.

Will you join us in the saloon when you're if you need it?

Yes, very well.

I shouldn't be longer than half an hour.

I'd rather proceed to cabin.

They left the cabin,

and I was able to apply myself to the Tarske cage.

I'd seen many dead men in my time

and featured many sufferers of fact and place.

One look at the dead man's face told me

it was not as straightforward as the captain thought,

but I was careful not to jump to conclusions.

I checked and reached it,

as Holmes was taken off

to question the captain steward at some length.

And then, it is just as I told you, Mr. Holmes.

That my parents, your back, please, drink straight.

I was usual.

I take it in, and you look at it,

and you post to the table, eh?

Is it done indeed?

Hmm.

What was he doing at the time?

Was he up at desk?

Which table did you use?

Oh, he was writing at the desk.

The table was the one under the starboard window.

It is not a portal, you understand.

It opens out onto the deck.

Well, the window or portal open?

Oh, we, we, we, we, we, we, we, we're there like this,

and that anchor, I'm natural.

Oh, it's a captain, aren't there.

I am sorry to interrupt,

but this is important.

You must know,

it wasn't sharp failure that killed Mr. Barclay.

He was poised.

Well, not a poider.

By what exact poison, I do not get no,

but I'm sure it was administered to him.

That means with drink.

Poisons, but who could have done such a thing?

That is what we are here to find out.

Uh, might I suggest we return to the cabin?

I take it that you locked the door, what's it?

Yes, and I have.

Very well, Stuart.

We shall not require you again at the moment.

Please see that no one goes ashore.

Uh-huh, very well, captain.

That's my mightens view of the secretary in there.

Could that be arranged also, captain?

We return to the cabin.

And as we reached it,

a tall stender figure came striding down the companionway.

It was the secretary.

And, to my utmost triumphs,

my frowns, I knew him.

Well, Jason.

Jason, Jason, Shorty, James Dayton.

Sorry to have you, Dr. Watson.

My father's a friend.

Isn't he, what are you doing here, sir?

Well, Sherlock Holmes and I are staying with Mr. Loyan,

the island, and we were sent for

in connection with Mr. Barkley's death.

You were his secretary?

Yeah, that's right.

I've been with him for a couple of years now.

He found useful because of the British yacht

and the French crew.

Henry himself couldn't have been more English.

His wife was French.

And as my mother was French,

and I speak both languages equally well,

I, well, I fit in rather well.

And rather I did until this happened.

Yeah, hard to say the last thing I thought of happened.

It wasn't a heart to check, David.

He was poisoned.

You can't meet him.

Jason?

No.

Has anyone told Mrs. Barkley?

No, no, we have only just found out ourselves.

No, I need confirmation.

There should be a post-mortem.

But I'm prepared to stay by reputation.

It was poison.

Stuart knows, and therefore I think it's fair

to assume that the rest of the crew know.

Am I just suggest that you're the best person

to break this news, Mrs. Daffy, Captain?

That should be good enough to do so straight away.

Would you care to come inside, Mr. Dayton?

I should like to ask you a few questions.

Yes, yes, of course.

I think you said that you've been in Barclay's emplory for two years.

You must know his affairs extremely well.

Who has tried to hold his private papers, money, things like that?

The captain, that's it.

It's hidden behind the picture on the wall over there.

Look, I'll show you.

Here.

The safe has a special lock.

I have a key, and there's one on his watch chain.

It's not a special lock.

It's difficult to open, unless you know how.

No one else knows how to open that, but Henry and myself.

I see.

And his bank statements, empty check, stopped.

That's open.

I remember they were all in the safe.

I saw them there myself only a few days ago.

I see.

Would you mind opening the safe for me, please?

Of course.

So I can't really see why.

I think it is much important.

Excuse me.

You are with the homes, and Dr. Watten?

I am Marcel Bakke.

And at the captain, he told me the news.

Is it true?

Yes.

I am afraid it is true, yes.

Benuma finds a person who poisoned him, finds him quickly, so that he too may die.

I do not care what steps you take, or how much money is involved, but you must find

out who killed my husband.

And when you do, I shall take my revenge.

Madame Bakke was very clearly a French woman.

She was extremely beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes that looked straight at you quite fearlessly.

She seemed more angry than distressed by the news of our husband's death.

She informed homes that she would be in her cabin if he needed to speak to her, and then

with a long, inscrutable look at the body of her dead husband, he turned on her keel

and left us.

Phones, after making sure the safe was unlocked, asked us to leave him while he searched the

cabin.

I found myself alone, no David Dayton.

I am sorry, we have to meet in this dreadful second, Dr. Watten.

Find it all quite a good way to drink.

You can throw no light on it at all, and it is clear that your late employer was poisoned

between hours of 12 and 1 o'clock.

I mean, that is when he took the drink.

The skewer took in the tray at that time, and he always did, but if the poison within

the gin or the tonic, surely an examination of the content of the bottles will show this.

Sure, the columns will find that out, have no fear.

Of course, if the poison was simply sifted as a gas, what he was unaware of, it is no

unvisited, the captain will accept the skewer.

You sure?

And then you sure, for myself, of course, I was selling myself up in deck.

Mrs. Bakke was there for part of the time, and she went to change for lunch.

Dr. this is terrible, I mean, why would anyone wish to see Henry dead?

I think Holmes will be asking you that question, David.

After all, next to his wife, you must have known the man better than anyone else.

Yes.

As I suppose I did.

Well, I think there is no need for a post-mortem to confirm your theory, Scottson.

Want to tell us the type of poison that was used to kill him about it, yeah?

Look at this.

It's got a small file, it's got a label, a word, it's got a cross it.

I can't read it very well.

It says, I'm a carer.

It's not the American poison used by the Brazilian Indians, it's quite rare, but very deadly.

I found it hidden away at the back of the safe in this cabin.

That's what killed him, all right?

How?

I mean, well, I didn't understand.

Two or three drops of this in the bottom of the glass.

The drink's tray was placed as usual on the table in front of the open window portal,

that looked out onto the deck.

Everyone who was passing outside could have reached in and sift the poison into the glass.

I see.

But then the who could have done it with anyone who passed along with the deck?

The file was hidden behind a book labeled Ships Cash Account.

Do you keep the cash account statement?

Yes, yes, of course I do.

And no one but you and the dead man would get into the safe?

That's right, but...

Look here, are you trying to say that it was me that I poisoned Henry?

I'm not saying anything at the moment.

I'm nearly asking questions and gathering information.

I'm not intonation.

I should sift the data and then I should be able to make statements.

Jeremy, are you aware of the contents of this letter?

Very well.

What is it?

And it must have been the last thing your employer ever wrote.

It's to his bank, back in England, pureed in certain cash checks.

Also in the safe was this balance sheet from the bank, which is the item's marks in red

ink.

Three checks of 500 pounds each.

A letter says that Barkey doesn't remember operating those withdrawals or signing those

checks.

It's easy though.

Did I withdraw these cash amounts?

You admit it?

Of course I do.

I was asked to make them.

Henry asked me to do so.

I made the withdrawals and took the cash and gave it to him straight away.

What did you do with the money?

Well, I know.

It must have had a reason of wanting the cash.

I suppose he stinted.

Because it's so wide right to the letter.

Three lots of 500 pounds.

And he can't recall cashing those amounts, or it's nothing makes sense.

The way things are looking at the moment, it all points to me, doesn't it?

The file hidden away, the bank book, the missing money, and I cashed it.

But I didn't do these things.

You've got to believe me, Mr. Holmes.

I didn't do it.

What motive could I have had?

One fine of question taken.

What are your feelings for myself, Barkey?

I don't strictly put on it.

Or I put some box romantic.

He has strictly those of a servant and his employer's wife.

There is nothing at all between us.

And if you think that is a motive for me becoming mixed up in murder, then you're very mistaken.

Now please, may I go now?

David Dayton moved away.

I stared, Holmes.

I simply could not believe that the young man who was the son of my old friend James Dayton

could be a murderer.

Holmes gestured to me to follow him, and we both made our way up onto the deck.

And there, leading us to the rail, we looked out across the water to the distance of the

Bay of Piscay.

Holmes was silent.

Eventually, I could bear it no longer.

Holmes, Holmes, this is impossible.

I know Dayton's family there.

Decent civilized people, good citizens.

There's never been the slightest candle in their family.

I simply can't believe that David has involved in all this.

Oh, he's involved all right, Watson?

That's clear enough.

You don't get to talk to him.

I mean, why?

What's the motive?

Moly could be money.

Do you know that 1,500 pounds is suspected of being stolen?

Yes, but David explained all that.

He said it was at Barclays request.

He hasn't got the money.

What is no proof of that, Watson?

When a man is arrested in Panstral, he has to produce facts.

Holmes?

It tells us only what we've already made up our minds.

It's guilt.

No, certainly not, Watson.

Quite the reverse.

I'm sure he is innocent.

Oh, fire.

I mean, you've been talking of facts.

The facts are all against him.

You've made the vote fit in on the contrary, Watson.

There are a few simple facts that do not fit in at all.

Societies for the poison.

It's a very rare Brazilian poison, not much from England.

Now, according to the law, this yacht's last visited Brazilian waters

four years ago, just after Barclay married myself.

Jatin was not with them at the time.

I don't see how that file could have come into his position.

And another fact is, of course, why was the file

hidden in the safe behind the cash court?

I've taken a few of the poison.

Troy would have thrown the file over for it.

Goken it.

Destroy the evidence.

We hear, sir.

Well, that is unlisted with more poison than file,

you wish to use it to get.

Ah, you saw the file.

It was empty.

And, of course, there's a timing.

The poison must have put into the dead man's glass.

And yet, after using it, someone put it back into the safe.

What?

Quite impossible.

No, no, no, Watson.

There's been an extremely complicated plot to kill Barclay

and face the gills on taking.

And that appears to be his investigation.

Rome's iron.

I'm literally a figure.

Oh, it's sea.

Well, what's it all about?

What happens now?

I have a short talk to Madam Barclay

and then we lead to the island.

Is everybody welcome?

Your young friend will not hang for a crime.

He did not commit.

Excuse me.

I shall be that a few minutes.

So, here's the house.

I can tell you, Monsieur Holmes.

I cannot show any light upon the matter.

Does your husband?

I know a reason for my husband being killed.

I know no one would wish to kill him

more benefit from you, Dad.

I am sorry, I can't answer you.

Since you accused me now, I'm still there, I accept.

Of course, I understand.

Oh, one final question.

You're in the relationship with the day to break down.

You were friends, right?

Is that his own?

Yes.

Like all English men, in fact,

are friends wise.

They're always on Facebook to their husbands.

The answer is, there is no emotional involvement.

It is, at one time, show some interest in me.

I quietly chose him that I was in love with my husband

and that was that.

I even chose a home way about it.

We'd love together.

That is all.

There was no trouble.

No intrigue.

Thank you, Madame.

That's what people are.

Shortly after that,

Holmes made arrangements to leave the grey goose.

The body of Henry Parkrey had been removed by D.E. to the island

and we were then rode ashore.

They were followed up in a busy and tedious afternoon and evening.

It wasn't throughout the dusk that Holmes made a sudden announcement.

Andre, Watson, you prepared to put an end to this case.

But of course, Holmes, of what you intend to eat,

returning to the grey goose under cover of darkness.

You have a boat.

Will you ride over to the yacht straight away?

Yes, of course.

Of course I will.

We must be very secretive.

No noise, not at any time.

Dress with black clothing and wear your softer shoes.

Quickly and quietly.

That is our motto for this evening.

Come.

Andre Lillianna was just as famused as I was.

But we obeyed all instructions.

And with muffled doors,

Andre rode us back across the stretch of water to the yacht.

Climbing a board was not easy.

But we managed it without arousing the crew.

Then...

I'm sorry, Watson.

This way, I think.

The lanterns glowing from the main cabin.

Careful.

Total windows.

It is open.

You know, it is.

Yes, you will allow Holmes and the police to draw the obvious conclusions.

I will remain silent about what I know.

Unless you agree to stay with me,

now that he has gone.

You agree?

I love affairs over.

Finished, no?

Oh.

Oh, it's interesting, my darling.

This is the most wonderful opportunity.

Stay with me.

We will marry.

You will be the master of this yacht.

I will share everything with you.

We will be together.

But always.

No.

This is all you are doing, wasn't it?

All yours.

What?

No.

Of course not.

We cannot think that.

I would never have killed Andre.

Then?

Well, then I don't understand.

A day later.

You were his secretary.

You knew there were financial difficulties.

But even you didn't know the extent of his failure and his disappointment.

And, of course, he knew about us.

That's why he did it.

He did it?

Of course.

He knew he'd lost me.

He couldn't go on without me and his security.

He took his own life.

Twice a minute.

He hit the pile.

Question the cash that he asked you to connect.

Nage, it looked like murder.

And the murder you committed.

Oh, yes.

That's it.

You can prove this.

Oh, yes.

And I promise I will speak.

But only if you promise to stay with me.

And marry me.

Have they hit?

What do you say?

Don't say anything.

We have heard all we need to know.

I think you will have to tell the truth without any conditions now.

Don't you, Madame?

And so, with Andre, myself, his witnesses,

Marcel Barclay broke down and told the whole story.

David Dayton was completely cleared of all suspicions.

The police from the mainland were called in and the truth.

But only the truth of the suicide was explained to them.

What happened to Marcel and whether she would have gone through with it

and allowed her lover to hang for her husband's death

is a matter of speculation.

But as Holmes said.

Which is impossible to buy, love, and affection, Watson.

Even more impossible to buy loyalty.

I thank goodness it is the end it is it has.

If those two had stayed together, it would have ended in an even greater tragedy.

I'm glad I am, but such things do not enter into my life of detection.

Ah, well, let us forget the most unsavory case Watson

and enjoy the rest of the holiday, shall we?

Listen again next Sunday to the stories of Sherlock Holmes,

with Graham Armitage's Holmes and Kerry Jordan as Dr. Watts.

I trust you are enjoying the morning papers, Watts.

Oh, yes, yes.

Right, you have them, Holmes.

Not yet, I am busy on my correspondence.

This is interesting, isn't it?

The end is to Holmes.

I am most anxious to have your advice on a most important event.

I was present at the White & Wilson auction of Coins yesterday

and became involved in what might be a serious tragedy.

May I call upon you tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock?

I shall understand if I am not granted an interview

and hope for another appointment, yours faithfully,

even in summer haze.

Even in summer haze?

In sun's vaguely familiar?

Men or women home?

And the name is popular with both sexes at the moment?

The letter is tight written, which could mean a woman.

The signature is made with a firm flourish, which could be a man's.

I should just have a look at it.

The signature is made with a firm flourish, which could be a man's.

I should just have to wait and see you shortly.

Uh, past the new statement now, please.

We present the stories of Sherlock Holmes.

The Auction of an Oxfas crowd.