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About this Episode
https://www.solgoodmedia.com - Listen to hundreds of audiobooks, thousands of short stories, and ambient sounds all ad free! Dive into the intriguing world of "Sherlock Holmes" with classic detective stories featuring the iconic sleuth and his loyal companion Dr. Watson.
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Transcript
From New York, the makers of Clipper Crap Closed for men and 924 meeting retail stores from coast to coast.
Present the world's most famous detective, Sherlock Holmes.
Our stories are based upon the character of Sherlock Holmes created by Sir Arthur Coleman Doyle.
Sherlock Holmes is portrayed by John Stanley, Dr. Watson by Alfred Shirley, and the dramatizations are by Edith Meiser.
Once again, we find ourselves in front of Dr. Watson's crackling fire.
Just a moment, Mr. Harris. Just a moment, I put on a fresh bang off.
So all listeners can really hear it.
Yeah, that's just a good head, Mr. Harris.
Outside, a cold white autumn mist shrouds the black tree skeletons.
But inside, we sit warm and cozy and ready for another of Dr. Watson's fabulous Sherlock Holmes adventures.
What's it to be tonight, sir?
Your conversation of white shrouds and skeletons brings to mind one of the most bizarre problems we ever undertook to solve.
It came dash curse to being our final problem as a matter of fact.
It sounds promising, Dr..
Nothing I like better than hearing about Holmes in a tight spot.
And whatever our adversary proved to be the notorious Professor Mariotti, it was generally a very tight spot.
Professor Moriari.
Wasn't he the man Holmes referred to as the Napoleon of Crime the same?
Actually, this case began with the George Westbrook discovered a corpse,
Vistina Romans, Pinetus, Toga, Tuleik and Pendles.
Holmes always maintained he could deduce a man's entire history from his wardrobe.
But this time, he...
Oh, speaking of judging people by their clothes, I thought...
Oh, this is my...
Oh, yes, of course. I hope most forgot.
Let's have a few words from our sponsor, who is also an authority on the subject of gentleman's apparel.
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Just compare Clippercraft with clothes selling for many dollars more.
And now, Dr. Watson, to get back to the gentleman in the Roman Toga.
Sir, right, Mr. Harrison, it all began on a freezing winter morning.
My first viewer, Baker Street, presented a disputing glimpse of icy sleep,
falling between the dung-colored houses.
I don't buy a carpet slippers, my oldest trousers, and a well-worn bathroom,
with the firm intent of enjoying a classic breakfast and settling my self in front of the fire for the rest of the day.
I know some of your capacity will endure however,
when I caught sight of a foams, tempting a bouts,
swearing for himself and tossing a shiny golden coin in rear.
Can't found it if I could only lay hands on the villa.
Morning, Holmes, what seems to be the difficult day today?
Difficult day.
Moriarty is back in business.
Only this morning, Mr. Hudson received this coin.
Here, have a look at it.
Hmm, a handsome ghost?
Of course.
Lading the town with him.
Great scoffed German professor Moriarty,
the greatest criminal in Europe has sent his anthropist.
No such luck.
That coin, what's seen, is counterfeit.
A brilliant job, or the pity?
Only an expert can spot it.
No wonder Moriarty has been so quiet these last two months.
It takes time to develop a coin as perfect as this.
Well, at least he hasn't had time for murder often,
or any more of his serious crimes.
Serious?
You think flooding the country with counterfeit coins isn't serious, Watson?
Do you realize what this will do to the value of the pound?
By June, of course.
Hey, Holmes, that's all doorbell.
Tell me, Mr. Hudson, I'm not a pro.
But Holmes?
I'm not accepting any tough, any hateful cases.
Not by Moriarty's threatening the credit of the empire
with his fortune and gold pieces.
Come in, come in.
Which of you, gentlemen, is Sherlock Holmes?
And my friend over there has the honor.
Whatever it is, I'm busy.
However, this is terribly, terribly important, sir.
I don't know what to do.
He's dead, you see.
Dead men do nothing this man.
Couldn't you inform his relative?
Well, that's just it.
I don't know who they are.
I don't even know who he is.
I don't even know when he died.
Albert, he's my assistant, says it must have been
over a thousand years ago.
But that seems quite impossible.
It's not the slightest sign of decomposition.
Oh?
On the other hand, until Albert and I broke through this morning,
and all had been in that room for centuries.
A bathroom?
The Roman Vars.
I discovered them, you know.
The Brits are undoubtedly ancient Roman.
Even the Kadeva was cleared in a senator's toad.
And genuine, I assure you.
We found him there in one corner.
Now, let's get this straight.
You found a fresh corpse dressed in a Roman toga
in some Roman ruin that had been buried for centuries.
Yes, Mr. Holmes.
What's in what are you waiting for?
Bring the gentleman a chair.
But you said you were busy.
You'll be irrelevant.
This sounded interesting.
Very well.
Won't you sit here, Mr. Burton?
Oh, yeah.
I'm sorry.
I'm afraid I have to go to introduce myself here.
Here.
Here's my card.
We get for me, Watson.
Sir George Westbrook, president,
heirland, W.A. association.
That means London and Wessex,
archaeological association.
Of course, of course.
I remember hearing the cooperation of London
had engaged you to investigate some ancient Roman remains
which you discovered in the Billings Get-Section.
That's right, Mr. Holmes.
They're under the basement of the coal exchange,
low attempt speed.
Albert and I have been burning the way down there for over a month.
This morning we broke through the final bit of brickwork
and emerged into a large subterranean chamber.
All right, Albert.
I think the opening's big enough.
Give me the lantern.
I'll go through first.
Yes, sir.
I said, George, your hand is shaking.
Is it any wonder?
I'm excited, Albert.
Unless I'm very much mistaken,
we've under some bars that were built by the early Romans.
Yes, sir.
Come along.
Careful.
Don't tell your clothing.
I say, sir.
It is a big-ish room.
It's splendid, Albert.
Splendid.
Look at that ceiling.
It's an almost perfect condition.
No, what's that in the corner over there?
Looks like a heap of white cloth.
No, no.
There's a leg sticking out of it.
Good lord.
It's a body.
We'd best have a look at it.
Yes, but be careful.
Don't touch it.
Don't touch anything.
What's that white thing he's got on?
Wait.
It's a touga, Albert.
A Roman touga.
It's topping wet, sir.
If you ask me, he's been drowned.
Drown.
Did you say drowns, sir George?
That's right, Mr. Holmes.
Have a guess impossible.
There hasn't been any wars in those baths for over a thousand years.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Tell me, sir George, what was the condition of the air in that chamber
when you broke in?
Stay on, fishy-headed.
No, Mr. Holmes.
It was quite fresh.
That's curious, now that I think of it.
Because there was no other entrance to the room except the one we'd come through.
The door.
The rest of the baths was filled by a great heap of bricks and rubble.
You are unable to identify the corpse.
As a matter of fact, we didn't do any further investigating.
Albert was quite overcome by the sight of the body.
And the Freddy's never been very strong about such things since the time that mummy disintegrated in his arms
while we were working on those pre-hellenic excavations and creeps.
I sent him home and came straight here to consult you.
You mean you left no one behind to guard the body?
No, Mr. Holmes.
What?
Where's my hat?
Where's my coat?
What's in?
Don't just stand there.
There's no time to lose.
I suppose I should have informed the authorities, Mr. Holmes,
that the thought of all those stupid Scotland-yard inspectors
trampling around in my beautiful ruins that got her developments.
I left a couple of dark lanterns burning.
And yes, here they are, in this pecking case.
All right, now, follow me, gentlemen.
Why'd your basements have to be so damp and depressing?
Careful there, careful.
This is where we started to dig.
It's a rather rough tunnel, smanting downward.
You have to bend over, I'm afraid.
You're sure that this Earth won't cave in us?
No, I don't think so, unless, of course,
someone should give it a tremendous push of some sort.
Yeah, it is where we brought through the war.
You'll be interested in this, Mr. Holmes.
No, this is the masonry.
Yes.
Yes, the bricks are undoubtedly Roman.
Let's see, they measure nine and a half inches long
by four and a half inches broad,
and only one and three-quarter inches thick.
Nothing like those of the Roman bars of Rotterdam.
Except that there are the tiles that are made of one and a half inches thick
and measure 16 inches by 12.
Oh, really, Holmes, if we come here to discuss bricks
or inspect a body,
never neglect an opportunity to increase your store of knowledge
what's more.
And step by frame with a lot of useless titter-tattles, not me.
Here's the hole we made in the walls, Holmes.
It's not very large, you know, Fred.
I'll go through first and light the way.
Now, gentlemen, if you follow me,
I'll go next and you can bring up a rear Watson
with the other lantern.
Now, then, what's the value?
There'll be no such a rush.
Here, I'll take the lantern.
It's tight squeeze, you know, I...
Hello, I think I'm stuck.
If you'll pull his other arm, Sir George.
Right.
Oh, yeah.
You'll get to get out of there.
I told you, you should go on a diet, Watson.
Oh, just because you're satisfied
you look like a walking scattered newer.
Hello.
This is a gloomy looking spot.
More like a tomb than the sort of place
that's run things down as an elegant Roman bathing establishment.
Yes, it certainly is more like a tomb at present,
complete with the remains of the deceased.
Although, how he was able to insinuate himself
into this chamber...
Yes, quite.
A superficial survey of the walls and ceiling
certainly shows no signs of any recent entry,
except by where the hole for which we just dragged Watson.
Interesting, very interesting.
Yes, suppose we view the body we came to investigate.
And as he's over here, Mr. Holmes, against the South War.
What's your step, the flooring is a bit uneven.
Here he is.
Exactly as we found him.
Lying on his face with one arm stretched over his head.
It's a skilly old boy, wasn't it?
I see, he moves, or whatever it is, he's wearing.
They're all shopping wet.
Yes, the poor fellow was undoubtedly brown.
Lung still put a bottle.
Extremities icy.
Rigger, well advanced.
He's been dead six to eight hours, I should say.
Holmes, how about it?
Not necessary.
The flooring is lying on its extremely cold, also the air.
Of course, the really fantastic part of the hoop
pictures the man's room.
The tunic and the tuba were the white purple stripe.
Even the thong sandals are the authentic garments
of an early Roman senator.
So I see, so I see.
Whoever this person was, he was thoroughly at home
among Roman customs and manners.
That ring of office on his outstretched hand
is undoubtedly authentic.
Oh, look, here, Holmes, you don't actually believe
this is a genuine Roman senator who got himself
drowned in this room and managed to somehow just stay
in this state of preservation.
No, what?
There are several obvious flaws to that theory.
In the first place, although the costume is authentic
in line, cut and draped.
The wooden fabric of this tuba was woven, not on an ancient
hand loom, but by a modern machine.
Second, the liquid in which the gentleman was drowned
would have evaporated in a short time, even in very
stale air.
And third, this room is neither the frigidarium, which
was the cold plunge, nor the caldarium, which was the warm.
No, judging by the recessed benches built into the walls,
this room was the suitorium, or what the Romans
called the Bapaba.
But of course, Mr. Holmes.
Why didn't I think of that?
But good lord, then.
So how was he drowned?
And why?
And suppose we turn the victim over, Sir George,
his identity may give us the answer to those questions.
Right, sir.
Easy.
There.
Very girly.
It looks funny.
Even more Roman from this side,
that knows those four-clad features,
that some of the pace of those Caesar on a Roman coin,
rather accurate and appropriate description, my dear Watson.
Yes, this, unless I'm very much mistaken,
is Brutus Octavius Bainbridge,
the world's greatest humanist-metologist.
You mean the coin expert?
But of course.
I thought the old cellulips familiar.
What?
I'd heard the awful war role in dress when he was
lounging about at home.
So that part of our mystery is a perfectly normal
explanation.
Don't be too disappointed, Sir George.
There are several other little questions to be cleared up.
The answers to which made it rather more exciting
than you anticipated.
What do you mean, Holmes?
Well, for one thing, Mr. Bainbridge
disappeared very suddenly from his home one night
a little over two months ago.
But a fortnight later,
the British Isles began to be flooded by an extraordinarily clever
kind of its sovereign.
Badger.
I pointed out to Scotland Yard that there might possibly
be a connection between the two events.
You mean Mr. Bainbridge,
who was a...
a cosy person?
I mean, as the greatest living authority on coins and coins,
he was undoubtedly kidnapped by a band of unusually daring
counterfeiters and forced to assist him in their work.
I thought you might possibly come to that conclusion
misturbed.
But...
It's not.
The voice.
Where does it come from?
Over the hidden speaking,
you will sound sort of imagined.
But who is it?
Unless I'm very much mistaken, that voice belongs to my heart
at this rate.
Greetings, Professor Moriartyne.
So now you've taken up counterfeiting.
Have I destroyed so many of your activities that you're running
short of fun?
I've warned you repeatedly,
Holmes, that you were getting to be a nuisance.
Surely you must have realized how dangerous that can be.
But my dear Professor, surely you must realize that danger
is the breadth of life to me.
This time, Holmes,
you move over each yourself.
On the contrary, Moriartyne,
it's you who have gone too far.
What's it?
Get some George out of here.
I'll keep talking to you,
give you a chance to escape.
Was it necessary to kill Bainbridge off,
you've finished picking his brains?
Not necessary, my dear old,
but speaking,
we drown him.
I wonder if Dr. Watson can guess why?
We're destined, I can.
Why not sortle Strangler?
I say, what's all this about, Holmes?
Get out of here, you idiot.
Leave you in danger, I should say not.
You see Dr. Watson.
Drowning would serve two purposes.
It would eliminate Mr. Bainbridge.
And it would provide a taste
if you're called Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
What do you mean?
I knew he'd never turned down an invitation
involving a corpse in a soldier
or scared simply drowned in an ancient Roman bar.
What's it?
If you have no regard to your own safety,
please tell me until I keep to get Sir George out of here.
I'm dashed if I understand what's going on here.
You will, dear.
You will.
Sorry to have to execute you, too.
But I'm afraid you signed your old death warrant
when you sent for Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Instead of Scotland Yard,
everybody rather thought you were too low.
Ah, well,
this is what comes of associating
with anyone who is polishing up to think
he can outwit Professor Moriante.
Look here, you'll blend the best you need
and think you can bully Dr. Sherlock Holmes or the other.
No.
Please, Scotland's death.
I rather mention one of the good professor's filings
that blow up the entrance to Sir George's tunnel.
What do you mean with...
with very alive in this severed cartoon?
Just like my dear and her young man.
Isn't it romantic?
You might try singing yourself to death as they did.
Such a waste of time I always thought.
Thought the pity Mr. Bainbridge won't be able to join you
if you'd have made such a jolly quartet.
Well, that's toilet at home.
If she's there, we're in tune in this blasted place
and just the George's assistant cares of tomorrow morning
and pranks the tunnel caved in.
Tomorrow, my dear Watson, is Sunday
and the day after, a bank holiday,
let her blow out one of the lanterns and save it for later.
Well, this is terrible, Mr. Holmes.
Well, we'll...
we'll be asphyxiated by the time we'll build the rhymes on Tuesday.
I doubt it, Sir George.
There's a very definite movement of air.
Fresh air.
I see fresh air.
If you're wet a finger and hold it up,
you'll notice what a month's to a slight breeze.
No, I doubt that we shall die from any lack of oxygen.
We may very well perish, however, from cold and exposure.
It doesn't take long to freeze to death in this temperature
or it needn't be so compelling cheerful about it, Holmes.
Don't interrupt Watson.
As I was saying, we may very well expire unless
we can discover how Mr. Bainbridge's body was brought into this room.
What good will that do?
Any passageway, large enough to permit the entrance of this corpse
will also serve as an exit for Sir George and myself.
You Watson may have a bit of trouble or you go to blazes.
But Mr. Holmes, what passageway could there be?
If you know, the architecture of the ancient room
and bars was fairly identical.
There was obviously only one doorway into this bar,
and that's blocked by a brick fall of earth and bricks.
Quite, but aren't you forgetting, Sir George,
the small unseen two-black passage
that invariably ran under all the rooms, except the cold hung?
Of course.
The hypercofts.
You know, what in the time there is a hypercoft?
A small-ish tunnel lined with red paving squares,
which ran from a furnace outside the buildings
under all the principal rooms of a Roman bath.
If we can discover some loose tidings this fall,
we may thank the ancient Romans
for inventing what our poor retarded civilization
considers a modern improvement, namely central heating floor.
Oh, it's discouraging. I've dug up two dozen spots.
Share up Watson, at least the activity has kept you from freezing today.
This is ruin my trousers. Good thing I was wearing my old suit.
I say the light's getting dimmer.
Holmes, the second dimension is about burnt out.
Keep digging Watson, it's our only chance.
I say Mr. Holmes, could you come over here a minute?
I think I've found the sort of breezing under this last batch of bricks.
Good Lord, it's seating.
Yes.
Yes, we found it. Watson, help me with these bricks.
Here, Watson, bring the lantern.
Right here.
Here they are.
Now let me see.
There's a black down there, isn't it?
Correct me if I'm wrong, Sir George.
We are now in the safer room.
The blocked up entrance over there leads to the hut bar.
That would put the coal plunge on our left.
No, we're going in that direction.
If we go down to the tunnel, we should turn right to get out.
Quite correct, Mr. Holmes.
I go first. Give me the lantern Watson.
It's flickering, Holmes.
It's gone out.
Very well then, we'll have to crawl our way out in the dark.
I feel as if I'd been crawling like a snake for hours.
Stop complaining, Watson.
At least we're not sealed up in that boat.
No, maybe not, but I can't say this is an egregious improvement.
Why don't you just stand up right?
I can only get to my hands in the east for a moment.
There's a shallow pool of water here.
Oh, Johnny.
I can use a bath only.
I just assumed not to have ice water here, huh?
Save your breath.
How are you getting along, Sir George?
I'll manage.
Who?
Now what?
Send it right over my hand.
Probably a sewer rat.
It's delightful.
Maybe we can take it home for the next slide, Watson.
I think we've reached the end of the tunnel.
Yes, it opens out.
You mean I can finally get up off my stomach, Chris.
Give you a hand.
I think my back is permanently bent.
Hello.
There's some steps here.
Steps going on.
In the door at the top.
It's open and slick.
There's a light.
There must be another entrance.
It's a ground level.
Yes.
Follow me and be very quiet.
Better have your rubber handy, Watson.
This may well be the most dangerous part of the entire adventure.
Easy now.
Let's have a look through the crack before we open the door.
It's a large, bare looking place.
And what's all that machinery?
Those are melting furnaces, presses, weighing apparatus, rolling machines.
On the far side of the asset and water baths in which Bainbridge was undoubtedly drowned.
In short, you see before you are very competent for the coining of counterfeit money.
Mr. Holmes.
Who's that sinister looking man stepping out of the shadows?
There.
Look.
He's adjusting a jewel as magnifying glass in one eye.
Now he's hunched over a pile of golden coins.
Good Lord.
His head oscillates from side to side like a snake.
Enjoying the fruits of your labor money up in?
Jewels.
Holmes.
You didn't expect us to return your core quite so promptly, ever, Professor.
Don't bother to reach for that asset.
Watson has you covered.
Better put your hands up.
That's right.
Now.
You'll come around that table.
Slowly.
That's right.
I have it in a present for you.
A pair of bracelets that...
How are you going through the windows?
I can't.
Why not?
Well, Blosset, all you asked me out of the house in such a jigger this morning,
I forgot to slip my involvement in my overcoat pocket.
Don't look so crestboard on Watson.
I'm rather relieved we didn't get the handcuffs on the Professor.
Once he's safely behind bars, I'll have no opponent worthy of my talents.
I should probably die of sheer boredom.
You mean sheer conceit?
That was quite a story, Dr. Watson.
There's always plenty of action when Professor Worryarley's around.
That's true, Mr. Head is out through.
This particular adventure had a rather pleasant jippie-lar.
What was that, doctor?
Oh, but suppose I tell you about it also, we pay our respects to the jiffyman
who so graciously make this program possible.
What could be fairer?
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And now, Dr. Watson, about the epilogue to the adventure of the corpse in the Roman Toga.
The offices of the royal means tender to homes in myself,
a dinner in recognition of our invaluable services in breaking up a counter-pitting outfit
which inflicted the value of British currency.
Homes receive a large of humanitarian scroll and a sizable check.
Always acceptable, Dr. Watson.
Right, sir.
I was presented with a priceless Roman ring of office which we had found on the dead man's finger
and a magnificent copy of the dubious Diarchitectura.
On the ploy we've been at home as handwriting was the inscription,
one never knows what bit of useless tittle tittle may save a man's life.
The chapter on the hypercost was underlined.
Got you that sign.
And our Dr. Watson, I wonder if you'd like to give us a hint about next week's story.
I think I'll tell you how homes in the eye found a man shot under a smashed street light.
All the evidence pointed in one direction,
but the victim had been shot at point blank range and there was only one wound,
but we heard two shots.
Oh, homes always refer to it as the case of the well-stayed murder.
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Sherlock Holmes is produced and directed by Basil O'Connor with special music by Albert Berman.
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Hunger installation of the enemies of civilization and democracy.
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Be sure to listen next week to Sherlock Holmes in the case of the well-stayed murder.
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