Sherlock Holmes - Living Doll

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to Dr. Watson tell up another exciting adventure he shared with his old friend, that Master Detective

Sherlock Holmes.

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Oh, there you are, Mr. Bartow.

Good evening.

Oh, excuse me, Dr. Watson.

I didn't know that you had company.

Shut up the door, my boy, and come in and join us.

Let me introduce you, Mr. Bartow.

This is my friend, Mrs. Campbell.

How do you do, Mrs. Campbell?

How do you do, Mr. Bartow?

Mrs. Campbell is a very old friend of mine from England, and when she called on me today,

I persuaded her to stay and have dinner, and then join us in this little session of story-telling.

You see, Mr. Bartow, it's really what you might call the star of the Sherlock Holmes adventure

that I'm going to tell you tonight.

Oh, come now, Dr. Watson.

I actually played a very small part of the story.

In any case, I was much too young at the time to know what was really going on.

Say, this is a great idea, Dr..

One of the characters out of your fabulous past here in California in 1946, and helps tell our own story.

Oh, no, Mr. Bartow.

I know, Mr. Torrey Teller.

That's the Dr. Department.

I'll just listen.

No, no, no, no.

I'll set the scene, but you must ring up the curtain, is it where?

In any case, my memory isn't too clear on some of the early points in connection with the case.

You will have to help me out.

Oh, but you're talking to millions of listeners on the radio.

I'd be terrified to speak over the air.

Oh, we're on the air now, Mrs. Campbell.

Oh.

Oh, we're not, are we?

Oh, dear.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Don't worry, Cynthia.

If they're kind enough to listen to me week after week, I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear you.

And now to get on with the story.

The title, The Adventure of the Living Doll,

The setting, The Sussex Downs,

near the B Farm to which Sherlock Holmes retired,

the period,

1910.

And now, Cynthia, my dear, the curtain's going up,

and the first scene, welcome to you,

supposing you set it for us.

Well, I'll try.

We were living on the Sussex Downs also, Mr. Bartel, at that time.

My name was then Cynthia Browning.

My father, Arthur Browning, been dead for some years.

But my mother kept up the estate with a manager.

I'm a Hugh Turner.

I was away at school most of the year, of course.

But the happiest times of my childhood

were spent during those long summer months in Sussex.

I lived in a small world,

knowing only a few people,

and loving all of them,

or almost all.

First of all, there was mother herself.

She was the most beautiful woman in the world,

and the sweetest.

I remember she gave me a puppy on my 12th birthday.

His name was Duster, and he was so sweet.

I talked to mother about him one day.

I must have sounded terribly young.

Mommy darling, I do love Daddy.

Very, very much.

He's a lovely puppy, and you gave him to me.

You love him, Cynthia.

I know that, but I've been feeding him.

That's your job darling.

It's good for grown-up people to have responsibility.

Oh, Mommy, I'll feed him.

Of course I will.

I'll feed him so full.

He'll burn.

Then there was the estate manager, Hugh Turner.

Such a pleasant man,

and so willing to tell a 12-year-old

all the things that a 12-year-old has to know of, die.

But Mr. Turner, why did you have to shoot the horse?

He'd only broken his leg.

Cynthia, horses aren't like human beings.

They're like small men.

I think of a horse that couldn't brisk and run,

and gallop across towns.

We're actually being kind to him.

Honest to be our Cynthia.

And then there was Frank King,

the painter who lived on the ground.

He taught me to open my eyes and really see things.

No, no, no, Cynthia.

That sunset is red.

It's gold and rust.

And the water, child, look at it.

It's almost rose in this light.

Rose flicked with cobwebs of ancient blue.

Cynthia darling, a sun that's never just one color.

Still dry, remember that, would you?

And then there was Mr. Pound from the city.

I gathered that he was terribly rich,

and he wanted to marry mother.

But he certainly didn't understand little girls.

Cynthia, I'm going to give you a heart of crown

for being a very good little girl.

Now tell me, what will you do with it?

I'll buy something for money.

Oh, no, no, my dear. This is your own money.

You put it in the savings account at the post office,

and it will make more money for you.

Always remember, my dear.

Take care of the pennies and the pounds

will take care of themselves.

Then there was the wonderful wise woman

who knew all the things that aren't in books.

Always remember, my bunny,

that it's good luck to touch the hump of a huntsmith.

But the curse of the elderly,

but being said, will be a bunny.

If you look at us, we will save them all through the glass.

And then, the strangest and most wonderful of all

was the lean, middle-aged man with a sharp face

and the being it, whom I knit one day on the downs.

Good afternoon, young lady.

Good afternoon.

I'm Cynthia Barney.

My name is Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes.

Why are you carrying that net?

You looking for backflip?

I don't know, Cynthia.

I'm a bee farmer.

Bee farmer?

Oh, that sounds funny.

How do you farm bees?

Hello, with my face, my dear.

I'll show you.

I say that's a beautiful doll you're carrying.

Isn't it, doll?

It's my mascot.

We're given to be by Frank King Tater.

He made it for me.

He made it to look as much like me as possible.

I call her me.

It's your multiple likeness.

See the hair?

That's clippings off my hair.

The nails?

Those are clippings from my own nails.

She's really me.

I love her.

Your own nails and hair.

And the doll is an exact replica of you.

I don't like that, Cynthia.

Remember my dear, my name, will you?

It's Sherlock Holmes.

And I live at the bee farm.

And if anything unusual happens, come to me at once.

Of course, Dr. Watson.

I confess that that first meeting with Sherlock Holmes

rather frightened you.

You didn't understand why you were so worried about the doll, eh?

No, but I remember what he said about coming to him

if anything unusual happened.

And I'm sure that that unusual something did happen.

Yes, Mr. Bartel.

And within a very few days.

But at this point, I think Dr. Watson should take over the story.

It's where he and Mr. Holmes really entered in the...

Oh, oh, very well.

As I mentioned earlier, Mr. Bartel, I was staying with Holmes.

Late in the afternoon, as I remember,

that you ran over to the bee farm

when I first met you, Cynthia.

A few moments before you arrived,

Holmes and I, each of us with a cup of tea in our hands,

was seated on the branch,

gazing out across the dunes,

discussing the mute of the tear,

the human affair.

Yes, Mr. Bartel.

And after a lifetime to put to the more flun-boyant aspects of everyday life.

But now, in what is the faster-purchasing twilight

of my days, I find such peace and companionship

in the exact and predictable behavior of bees.

Now, what about Marie Arte with a thought?

Oh, you talk to each other for an old daughter of 90.

You say what you like, but I don't think that you will ever really be happy

and retirement.

You must be dangerily the excitement of the case.

See, the public at home.

What are you talking about?

It's my work as ever for the public.

And what is the public, the great unobservant public

who could hardly tell a weaver by his two-zola,

type-setter by his left thumb,

care about the finer shades of analysis or deductions.

In any case, Watson, I chose a happy time to sink into oblivion.

In comparison to recent years,

a criminal seems to have lost all his originality and enterprise.

My own little practice, when I give it up,

seemed to be in danger of developing into an agency

for covering lost lead pencils

or giving advice to young fetus from boarding schools.

Oh, talking of young ladies?

Who's this little girl running after your driveway?

Oh, great Scott.

It's Cynthia. Cynthia Browning.

Oh, and who's she?

Poor Channing, young neighbor of mine.

Hello, Cynthia.

Hello, Mr. Holmes.

You come to see how I farm bees, aren't you?

Hello, Mr. Holmes.

You told me to come to you or something.

I knew what happened.

It has.

Something that's frightened me.

Well, now sit down, my dear.

This is my old friend, Dr. Watson.

Oh, how do you do, Cynthia?

How do you do?

How do you do?

Now, Cynthia, what has frightened me?

It's my mascot.

My knee.

Look.

Somebody stabs her through the heart.

Good, Scott.

It's an exact replica of her.

With a pen-knife crossed into a ship.

That gracious me.

When did you find your, your mascot, like this?

Just that tea.

Mommy had some gentleman calling on her.

And afterwards, I went up to my room and found poor me on the bed.

I remember what you told me about anything unusual.

And so I came over here as fast as I could.

Yes, I'm glad that you did sit here.

Did you tell your mother where you've gone with her?

No, I didn't.

She was still talking to the gentleman.

Well, she'll be here.

You'll worry about you when she discovers your disappearance.

No, don't worry, Watson.

Have to go over and talk to her once.

Cynthia, my dear.

Yes, Mr. Holmes?

Who was the gentleman calling on your mother?

Well, there was Mr. Tanner.

Yes.

He's the man who looks after you state the money.

Mr. King, the painter.

Mr. King is the man who made this doll, eh?

Now, who else was there?

Mr. Pound.

He's a businessman from London that's staying with money.

And they were all present in your house when you found the, the, uh,

mascot lying on the bed.

Yes, Mr. Holmes.

What's no chap?

You're so?

I'm going over to see Cynthia's mother at once.

I want Cynthia to stay here with you.

Guard her, old chap, as you would for life.

Mrs. Barney, I know I'm a scene like an intrusive neighbor, but, uh, possibly you've heard of me.

My name is Holmes Sherlock Holmes.

Well, who hadn't heard of the famous Sherlock Holmes?

Please sit down, won't you?

Thank you.

Your guests have left?

Yes.

But how did you know I had guests?

I know you're a great detective.

Your charming little doll, Cynthia, came over to see me half an hour ago.

She told me.

So that's where she went.

Did she come back with me?

No, Mrs. Barney, I thought it's safer that you remained at my place for a while.

My friend, Dr. Watson, will look after her.

I'm afraid, uh, that she may be in danger.

In danger?

Mr. Holmes, what makes you say that?

You know your daughter's doll, the one tashed in her own likeness and with her own head of nails?

Of course.

Franching made it for her.

While you were a TV s afternoon, your daughter found the doll lying on her bed with a pinnite stuck through its heart.

It's very peculiar, but I don't see that she should be in any danger because of it, Mr. Holmes.

Well, Mrs. Barney, certain practitioners of magic believe that if a doll like Evagy is made of a human being,

and the Evagy is then mutilated, that a similar fate will be before the living original.

But, Mr. Holmes, that's black magic.

You can't possibly believe in it.

Oh, not in the results of stabbing a doll, Mrs. Barney, but I...

Well, it's possible that someone is trying to kill your daughter.

To kill Cynthia?

Oh, no.

It may be more than a possibility, I'm afraid.

And when these magical means fail, they will turn to more direct methods.

But who could possibly want her death?

You were...

You have not remarried, Mrs. Barney.

No, I feel it's my duty to devote my life to Arthur's child, Cynthia.

Yes, then anyone wishing to marry you might feel that Cynthia stood in the way.

But that's absurd.

But logical, Mrs. Barney, do you mind if I ask you a very personal question?

With Cynthia's safety at stake?

You may ask any question.

Are any of the three men who were present at TV s afternoon, desirous of marrying you?

Well, I...

Please be completely honest, Mrs. Barney.

At different times, they've all asked me to marry them, yes.

And you want a contentment marriage because of your dead husband's child.

I tell Mrs. Barney, have you seen this pen knife before?

It was one unstuck through the doll's heart.

I don't think I'd ever seen it before.

One final question.

Any one among Cynthia's acquaintances have a knowledge of the practice of magic?

Well, the old woman that Cynthia called the wise woman might...

Oh, who might she be?

A strange creature that lives in some hovel on the downs near here.

She brews weird concoctions with herbs, love filters and all that sort of thing.

Ah, the assurable companion to your daughter, Mrs. Barney?

I know it, Mr. Holmes.

I've told Cynthia over and over again that she mustn't stray off and see the old woman.

But you know how disobedient children are at her age.

I'm sure she's been over there recently.

I'd like to talk to this woman. Where does she live?

I don't know exactly, but Faye can take you there.

He used her as a model.

Now, Frank King, the... the painter?

Yes, he lives in the village.

And I shall call on him at once and persuade him to accompany it.

We must find that wise woman, and I hope,

save your child from magic.

Magic?

Impossible murder.

Much further, Miss King.

Only a few more yards, Mr. Holmes.

A little cottage is just behind the trees there.

It's a pretty broken down place.

Poor old girl, there's only a few pennies to her name, I'm actually.

Mrs. Honey was telling me that you used this old woman as a model.

Yes, she was a fascinating subject.

I painted her.

She was mixing up some devil concoction of herbs and spices.

I had her handling over a smoking cauldron with the trial of playing on her.

It was quite perfect.

That must have been her.

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The subject of witchcraft appeals to the skin?

No, I don't know anything about it.

Just because she was such a wonderful subject for things.

Here we are.

I'm not on the door.

I think we'll take the liberty of going in, shall we?

No, I don't.

You all right?

What's this?

Listen.

King of Metron.

Someone is here.

Come on.

Look at her.

Look at her head.

Poor devil.

She's alive.

She isn't long for this world.

Can you hear me?

Yeah, I'll lift you up a little.

Can you understand what I'm saying?

Tell me.

Who was it that did this to you?

She's too far gone to speak.

Got a piece of paper on the pencil?

Yes, wait a minute.

Hey, well.

Thanks.

Now.

You're right.

The name of a man who did this to you?

She's pushing the pencil away.

I don't suppose she knows how to write.

She's trying to show you something, Mr. Holmes.

She's trying to crawl over to the wall.

Yeah, let me help you.

It'll be a hiding place of some kind.

Look.

She's taking a brick out of the wall.

What is it?

Wait, Scott.

Money.

Better to project doors and extra pennies.

And salt, silver.

And at least a dozen golden sovereigns.

That's for the money.

Look.

She's picking up one of the silver coins.

She's trying to get to you.

Are you a six-pins?

But what?

Ooh.

Ooh.

Oh, poor woman.

She's dead.

And just as she was trying to crawl over something.

I can't understand it.

Golden sovereigns in this harbour.

And she was showing you a silver six-pins as she died.

Mr. Holmes, what are you going to do?

Burt.

Check on the young girl, said, dead.

You realize you'd like to go back to my mother's.

A simple, the other two men who were first in the tea-times afternoon

and keep them there until I arrive.

I shall belong.

Please.

I shall summon the Mr. King when I have the murderer to offer them.

And I'm convinced that that will be before the sun sets tonight.

Well, here's the rest of Dr. Watson's story in just a second.

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Now back to Dr. Watson and his guest tonight, Mrs. Campbell,

who played a most important part in the story herself.

Oh, not nearly as important a part of that plate by Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson.

Well, Dr. Watson, what happened when Sherlock Holmes rejoined you at the beef farm?

Well, first of all, he made sure that the little girl was safe.

And he told me of finding the dead woman.

And the best theory is that the killing...

I can almost hear it now, Mr. Bartel.

Did he say that?

Someone wanted the little girl out of the way,

because they knew the mother would never marry while the child was alive.

And that's someone persuaded the old woman to do the job for her master.

Well, obviously.

And she, believing in the power of black magic,

mutilated the doll, firmly convinced.

And in so doing, she was destroying the young girl, the fashion doctor.

And then I suppose when the potential murder,

discovered the woman was merely indulging in stupid f***er,

killed her, realizing she was only a hindrance to him

and with her knowledge of the plan, a dangerous hindrance.

But how do you suppose to be a cunt for the heart of money?

Golden sovereigns don't fit.

We found him a hopper.

Well, no doubt it was a sum that she was already been paid

for the murder that she was going to commit.

As she died, she tried to give me the clue to her murder

by selecting certain coin.

Now, in her possession, she had gold silver on copper.

She chose a silver coin.

And yet I can't see its significance.

I must confess.

At the moment, past her not, and yet before the evening's over,

I bet you that you say what's in.

I said before the evening's over, I bet you all fell old.

That's the clue.

You bet me.

What an earth you're talking about, Holmes.

I was just saying.

You've just given me the answer to the whole problem, Watson.

I'm much obliged to you.

Stay here, we will, Chef.

And look out, Cynthia, a little while longer.

Within a very short time, I shall have her intended destroyer

under lock and key.

Mr. Holmes, I'm glad you've come.

I've had the greatest difficulty in persuading these three gentlemen

that their presence was necessary.

Within a few minutes, Mrs. Browning,

the two of them will be entirely free to leave if they want to.

Mr. Holmes, I think you're a good idea to tell everyone what happened.

Yes, well, Mr. Brown, I think you're a good idea to tell anyone what happened.

How do you do, Mr. Brown?

How do you do, Mr. Brown?

How do you do, Mr. Brown?

Oh, how do you do, Mr. Holmes?

Look here, if there's some scandal, though, there is, Mr. Brown.

Then I want my name kept out of it.

You hear?

I have a seat on the London Stock Exchange.

You're very comfortable for you.

Yes.

And the other gentleman by the process of elimination must be Mr. Hugh Tanner,

the manager of your estate, Mrs. Browning.

Yes, I'm Hugh Tanner.

And now, Mr. Holmes, supposing you tell us what this is all about.

I'm a straightforward man and all this mystery is rather aggravating.

Something has happened.

Something that concerns us all.

What is it?

Murder.

Murder.

Good Lord.

Who's been murdered?

An old woman who lived in the village.

Your daughter, Mrs. Browning, referred to her as the Wise Woman.

Mr. King and I found her tonight in a cottage on the downs beaten to death.

Murder.

That's shocking.

But what's it got to do with...

I'll explain, Mr. Kahn.

Each one of you, I believe, would like to marry Mrs. Browning.

My daughter, Cynthia, is an obstacle to such a marriage.

One of you decided to remove that obstacle and engage the Wise Woman to carry out the plan.

Finding the woman clumsy and ineffective,

you decided that she was a dangerous witness.

And so, you murdered her.

Fortunately, the poor woman, if she was dying, gave me the clue to her murderer.

But how did she do that, Mr. Holmes?

I thought you said that she died without speaking.

She did, Mrs. Browning, but she gave me the clue nonetheless.

No, I was shucking the slow and spotting it.

Will?

What was the clue?

Yes, let's stop being mysterious and come out into the open.

Now, you were with, Mr. King, as she died.

I shall let you tell them.

Well, she was dying, unable to speak when Mr. Holmes asked her to attack her.

She couldn't write, but she showed him a hoard of cotton and silver coins,

a dozen gold and sovereigns.

Sovereigns in a hovel like that?

Oh, I see.

She met her murderer, was the man who had paid her.

And with all that ill-gotten wealth, she died touching her silver.

Well, I was still down to see who the murderer is.

Come along, gentlemen.

You should know it as well as you know your own names.

Now, Mr. King mentioned that there were a dozen sovereigns.

Whose name does a sovereign suggest?

Sovereign sovereign?

King.

You, Frank King, were the murderers.

Oh, that's ridiculous.

The old woman wasn't exactly a mastermind.

Why should she be so so indirect?

And how much is a sovereign worth?

A pound!

And your name, my friend, with a seat on the London Stock Exchange is pounded!

Oh, it is absolutely absurd.

I can prove that I've never even met the woman.

Well, what is the answer, Mr. Holmes?

I'm sure that you know it.

The answer is obvious, Mrs. Browning, though I'm ashamed to say that a chance

from Mark of Dr. Watson's game of the coup.

Oh, now look here.

Stop beating about the bush, Holmes.

What is the answer?

A very simple one, Mr. Pound, with twelve golden sovereigns at hand, sovereigns,

that would suggest either the name of King or Pound.

What coin did the dying woman select?

A six pence.

Exactly.

A humble, silver six pence.

And what is the common slang word for a six pence?

A tab!

Precisely.

Which tells us that you, Mr. Hugh Tanna, killed the wise lady.

I am prove it.

That's all just by a bad.

It's a bad word.

I am prove it.

That's all.

Just by a bad.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

It's a bad word.

Holmes, what happened?

I found the Madro, Jeff.

Thanks to you.

What do you mean, thanks to me?

What?

It was thinking of a six pence, the coin the dead woman touched in our hand,

and a six pence.

When he said, I bet you, I thought of the much used expression,

but you're Tanna.

That gave me the clear of the whole business.

The dying woman was obviously trying to indicate that Hugh Tanna was her murderer.

He confessed you say before the police arrived.

There's after Frank King, the artist,

it's starting to give him something of a frashing he deserves.

Oh, I take no particular pride in the case Watson.

Without your chance, Sir Mark, I might easily have overlooked this obvious clue

that the dying woman gave me.

As I said before, Jeff,

I should not attempt to emerge from my retirement.

Yes, yes, yes.

It's obvious that my reflexes are shuckingly slow.

I wish the police would never have solved all my dear Watson,

when you compare me with the police.

I have realized that my retirement should be permanent.

And by the way, where is Cynthia?

Well, I arranged with your husky preferred heaven-early supper.

Some kippers of folks they go to,

a piece of that creek of top we had last night.

For twelve year old girl, my dear Watson,

this is an occasion when I might use you

of being a potential murderer.

Oh, come now Holmes, you...

Well, here she comes out.

Hello, Cynthia.

Did you enjoy your supper?

It was lovely.

Thank you, Mr. Holmes.

Is everything all right?

Can I go home now?

Yes, Cynthia.

Everything's all right.

Tell me my dear.

Did you ask Mr. King to make that mascot for you?

Yes, Mr. Holmes.

The wires woman told me it would bring me luck.

Oh, yes, I thought so.

Mr. Holmes, will everything be just like before?

No, not quite, Cynthia.

Mr. Tanner and the wires woman have gone away.

You won't see them again.

Oh, dear.

But you have new friends here, haven't you?

Yes, and nice ones.

Remember that, Cynthia?

We'll always be your friends.

I will, Dr. Watson.

I like you both so much.

I'm glad.

And tell me, Cynthia,

do you like Mr. King, the artist?

Oh, yes.

Almost as much as I used to like my daddy.

He's like my daddy, you little.

No, I'm glad to hear you say that, Cynthia.

Tell your mother the same thing, will you?

I think it might change

you really foolish notion of hers.

Well, Dr. Watson and Mrs. Campbell,

that was a really different kind of story.

I'm sure glad you were here tonight, Mrs. Campbell.

Tell me, has Dr. Watson changed much since you last saw him?

Well, yes.

I think he's grown handsome.

And what about Mrs. Campbell, Dr.?

Has she changed?

Well, she's more grown up for the last time I saw,

but she hasn't changed much in one respect.

What's that, Dr?

Your appetite, my dear.

Oh, my number of homes was amazing.

The most you went when you were a child.

But you was at near Justice Hockhead dinner this evening.

Well, that was your fault, Dr..

Your dinner was too good.

Oh, Cynthia, don't talk about the wine.

Well, shouldn't I talk about the wine?

It was wonderful.

Sure it was.

It was Petri wine, that's why.

You see?

How you got him started?

And Mrs. Campbell,

Petri wine is always good wine.

That's because the Petri family

has been making wine for generations.

Ever since long ago when they started the Petri business,

wine making has been an eye with the Petri family.

It's a tradition.

I heritage that they've handed on down

from father to son,

from father to son.

Believe me, when it comes to turning

luscious sun-ripe and California grapes

into fragrant, delicious wine,

well, you can pet your last dollar

that the Petri family really knows how.

No matter what type wine you prefer,

for any occasion,

you just can't miss with a Petri wine

because Petri took time

to bring you good wine.

Well, Dr. Watson,

what new Sherlock Holmes adventure are you planning

to tell us next week?

Well, as next, we got some petrix days.

About six days away, Mr. Bartella,

I thought next week that I'd tell you

a rather unusual story that took place

at Ireland at the turn of the century.

Concerns the famous ceremony

of kissing Blan is tone,

St. Patrick's Night Rebel,

and an old Irish ballad that led directly

to one of the most devilish murders

that Sherlock Holmes and I ever encounter.

The Night Sherlock Holmes adventure

was written by Dennis Green and Anthony Boucher,

and was suggested by an incident

in the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's story,

The Adventure of the Copper Beaches.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Mr. Rathbone appears through the courtesy

of Metrogor and Mayor,

Mr. Bruce through the courtesy

of Universal Pictures,

where they are now starring in the Sherlock Holmes series.

You can read about the stars

of our broadcast

of April issue of Everybody's Digests.

The Petri-Wine Company of San Francisco, California,

invites you to tune in again next week,

same time, same station.

Sherlock Holmes comes to you from our Hollywood studio.

This is Harry Bartell,

saying good night for the Petri family.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

This is Harry Bartell,

saying good night for the Petri family.

For a solid hour of exciting mystery dramas,

listen every Monday on most of these same stations

at 8 o'clock,

to Michael Shane,

followed immediately by Sherlock Holmes.

This is the Neutral World Broadcasting.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

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Hey, I'm Josh Spiegel.

Host of the podcast.

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You'll cry and gasp and horror as the show spirals completely out of control.

It's not just news.

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Hi, this is Alex Cansford.

I'm the host of Big Technology podcast.

A long time reporter and an on-air contributor to CNBC.

And if you're like me,

you're trying to figure out how artificial intelligence

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So each week on Big Technology,

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