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From London, we present Chostum Old Place by Sir Arthur Turnham Doyle, adapted radio
by Michael Hardwick, with Carlton Harbs as Sherlock Holmes and Norman Shelley as Dr. Watson.
You know something of racing, don't you Watson?
I ought to wipe paper about half the wound, pinching.
Then I'll make you my handy guide to the turf.
Does the name of Sir Robert Norbert and recall anything?
That's just there, sir.
He lives at Chostum Old Place.
My summer quarters were down there, wonder?
But you know, Norbert and Nellie came within your province once.
Oh, how is that?
It was when he horse-miped Sam Brewer, the person sweet money-lander, a new-moggy-heak.
Nellie cured him.
He sounds interesting.
Does he often indulge in that way?
He has the name of being a dangerous man.
One of them, still as you were, was shot that two generation.
He should have been a regency back.
The great eye for the ladies, boxer, athlete, and a bad man's death, they were right in the country.
Came second in the Grand National a few years back.
They said that what he's lost on the turf has got himself on a queer street
that he may never find his way back again.
Capital Watson.
An admirable thumbnail sketch.
Now, can you give me some idea of Chostum Old Place?
Well, only this is in the middle of Chostum Park in Parkshire.
Chostum started in training quarters of that.
And the head trainer is John Mason.
You didn't look so surprised, my dear Watson.
He was due here some minutes ago.
But do let us ask some more about Chostum.
I think he was struck a rich man.
Well, the Chostum's family.
You're here, woman, every dog show.
They're the special pride of the lady of Chostum Old Place.
So, rather, no, but this wife?
No, no.
Oh, he's never married.
Just as well, I just think, considering his prospect.
He lived with his widow's sister.
Lady Bertrand Spolder.
Matter of fact, the place belonged to her late husband.
No, but there was no claim on his at all.
When she dies, it reverts to her husband's brother.
So, she only has a life interest in him.
That's right.
She draws the rents and nobody spends them.
So, I heard she's a very certain.
But what's a miss at Chostum?
Oh, that's just what I wanted.
And here, I expected the man had been killed.
It's John Mason.
Oh, it's a Mason.
This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson.
What do you do?
You had my noticed rooms.
Yes, but it explained nothing.
It was too delicate a thing to put the details on paper.
Too complicated.
Well, here we are.
H.O.D. Spuzzles.
Oh, do you see that?
Sir.
Sir.
Well, first of all, Mr. Holmes.
I think my employers are Robert Norbert and Dunmad.
This is Baker Street, Mr. Mason, not Alley Street.
But why do you say that?
Those are.
That's one odd thing or two odd things.
There may be a meaning to it.
But when everything that does is odd, then you begin to wonder.
Why reckon with Chostum Prince and the Derby have turned his brain between them?
Well, Chostum Prince is a coach.
The Robert is injured.
All right, it's the best in England.
In order to know if anyone does.
You know I'll be playing with you gentlemen there.
Because I know this won't go beyond the room.
So Robert has got to win this Derby.
He's up to his neck.
He's his last chance.
Everything he can raise or borrow is on that horse.
And it fine odds, too.
That's what has happened, Mr. Mason.
Well, the horse is good at that.
Well, the public don't know how good he is, Dr. Watson.
So, Robert's too clever for the attacks.
He has the princes out.
All right, for spins.
I can't tell him apart.
But there are two lengths in the furlong between him when he comes to a golf.
No, sir.
He's all lighted on the prince.
If he fails him, he's done.
It seems not that it's just the gamble.
But where does the madness come in?
Well, first of all, he's only got to look at him.
He's always a wild.
He's down at the stables at all hours.
And there's the way he behaves till he debits for us.
Oh, he won't be.
Well, he's always been the best of friends.
He loves the horses and much of the edos.
Well, he shows the prince when he heard her coming.
He choked out to the cage for his lump of sugar every time.
But that's all over now.
What?
Well, she seems to have lost all interest.
For a week now, she's just driven past the stables
well so much as a good model.
You think there's been a problem?
Oh, you're a bit awkward if you ask me, sir.
Why else would he give away our pet spano?
First, then.
Oh, she's lovely to see if it were a child.
But he gave it away a few days ago to old barns
where he keeps the green dragon down at Crandall.
Of course, but there are weak hearts and drops,
he wouldn't get about with the rubbers,
but he used to spend a couple of hours with her
in a room every evening.
That's all over, too.
He never goes nearer.
She takes it to Arthur.
It all changed, Mr. Holmes.
Everything's changed.
And something going on.
Mark my words.
Is there something more than?
Oh, is that the reserve?
No, it's often the master sneaks off down to the crypt
at the old church.
Oh, it's an old ruined chapel in the park.
I see.
I'd dark down places, too.
Bad enough by day.
There's not many in our parts
but think of going there by night.
Hope he'd no die.
Oh, you may smile, Mr. Holmes.
Had a bad name amongst us for generations.
Anyway, there he goes every night.
Wet or fine?
Too interesting, Maul.
Maul, Mr. Mason.
But how do you know?
Well, it was my head-ladd steams,
novenons sneaking out first of all and told me.
It's not of our business, perhaps you'll say.
But we went after him.
We waited behind a bush.
The storm going side the crypt.
This is jumpy work or I fret.
Could be a bad jump first of east buses.
There's no respect for a person's when he gets started.
Still, I mean, see this out.
Well, you can't see much from here.
See if we can go inside and take a look.
We want your life.
It here is for sure.
Not much we can do then.
Say, follow him home again.
You never know.
You might be carrying something to give us some idea.
Hey, watch out.
He's coming out now.
But we'll keep that in.
Your compasses bushes there if you like.
Well, it's empty.
Where does that get us?
We don't know.
We could take a look inside.
No, he's gone.
He's inside.
Oh, I don't know.
If you're on the wrong mind, come on.
The master can go in there or reckon we can't.
No, no, no.
It's not that easy until we get to the bottom of this.
Wait out here for me, if you like.
No, I'll come.
Well, there's no one here.
No one, nothing.
Oh, and that's there.
We can be getting there.
What's that over there?
Huh?
Well, here.
Oh, that's funny.
It's bones.
Bones.
And that gun is cold.
Oh, it is, too.
You've been down here before, Fred.
Oh, once or twice.
Do you day like that?
No.
I was here some time back when master sent against to see those gifted one camping out in the place.
These weren't there then.
You sure?
Certain.
Sure.
Maybe it's you.
You don't reckon.
No, no.
They're all bones, these.
Well, the under the years old, where they come from.
Why should anyone drag them out and even drive around like this?
Yeah.
This beats me, Fred.
It beats me.
And beat both of us, it did miss our homes.
You left the bones that they built?
I, lying in a corner with a bit of old board over them.
And now, miss rooms, take a look at this.
Huh?
A piece of the bones?
No, sir.
Not them.
This was a day or two later.
There's a peaching furnace under Lady Birch is his room.
He's been off for some time, but Sir Robert started complaining about the cold, so we started up again.
And the other morning, when one of the boys was raking out the cinders, he found this bone.
You can see it's been burnt.
What do you make of this, Watson?
Well, it's human alright.
The upper condyle of a human femur.
Exactly.
And Mr. Mason, could anyone who wanted to visit the furnace?
Oh, sir.
There's a door from outside, and there's another door stand from a passage where Lady Birch is his roomies.
It was Sir Robert at home on the night before the boy found his bone.
No, sir, he wasn't.
He'd gone off to London.
Then, whoever was burning bones, it was not he.
That's true, sir.
Well, these are deep waters indeed.
Deep and rather dirty.
Did you have any more to tell me?
No, sir.
I think, sir.
That's about all Robert.
A few questions then.
When did Sir Robert give away his sister's gun?
Just a week ago, the day's where.
It was Harry, how it started the old well, Watson.
Sir Robert was in one of his tantrums that day.
He caught it up.
I thought he would have killed it.
But he gave it to one of the jockeys and said to take it to all bars of the green dragon.
He said he never wanted to see it again.
Thank you.
Now, who keeps Lady Birch's folder company in less than time?
Well, as her maid, Carrie.
She's been with her about two or five years.
And his new doctor voted to her, Mrs.
Well, she's devoted enough, but I'd rather not say who to.
Uh-huh.
Well, I can't tell.
That's what, sir.
I'd gladly understand.
From Dr. Watson's description of Sir Robert, I can realize that no woman is safe from it.
Don't you think the quarrel between brother and sister may lie there?
Well, the scandal has been pretty clear for a long time.
Yeah, but she may not have seen it before.
However, this case, they account for char bones on these mysterious visits to the crypt.
Is there good fishing in their thought about, sir?
Pishing, sir.
Fishing, Mr. Misty.
Well, they're attractive to the mill stream, and I can be all late.
That's good, isn't it?
Watson and I are famous fishermen.
I'll be not bothered.
Uh-huh.
In fact, you may address us in the future at the green dragon.
I think you said it was cold, Mr. Misty.
All right.
We should reach it tonight.
I need hardly say that we'd better not be seen with you down there.
But the notes will reach us if you want this.
Yes.
Thank you, Mr. Barnes.
My friend and I are very comfortable indeed.
Very comfortable.
But, Penny, what do you think about the whole lake and the chance of a fight?
All?
Oh, no.
No, that wouldn't be a daughter.
Why, how's that?
Oh, you might chance to find yourself in the lake before you were done.
Hello.
Where are you?
Well, it's Sir Robert Norbert.
Sir, he's terrible, jealous.
It doesn't count.
Oh, it beg pardon, sir.
But if you two strangers were as near as Trident Waters,
is that he'd be after you?
Sure as right.
He ain't taken no chances, Sir Robert, right?
I think I did hear that he has a false infant for the daughter.
Ah, and a good cold, it isn't all.
He's carrying all our money.
And, Sir Robert, too.
Oh, what?
Well, the White gentlemen, they can be pardoned.
That is, I suppose, you ain't on the turf yourselves.
Oh, no, indeed.
It's just two very Londoners who've added in some good boxer air.
Well, you're in the right place for that.
What day of the big line about it?
But, more than what I said about it,
it strikes first and speaks after.
Hey, he said his job was to bond.
Well, thank you, gentlemen.
Oh, Mr. Barnes, I wanted to ask you.
What breed is that beautiful, fabulous, or the passage just now?
Oyster, that's the real Shuston breed.
They're in a better England than that.
Really?
I'm quite a dog fancyer myself.
If it's a fair question, what price would a dog like that cost?
Oh, more than I could pay, Sir.
It was Sir Robert himself, who gave me this one.
That's all that's for you, Sir.
He was toyed up.
Indeed, they all packed it all in a jiffy if I give him his end.
Well, now you'll excuse me, gentlemen.
Well, Watson, I've got here some cards in my hand.
And we may see our way in a day or two.
We're normally back in London soon.
Possibly.
I think we might do well to enter the sacred domain tomorrow night in fact.
It'll reduce the risk of bodily assault with him still away
and that I want two points.
I should likely assure, Sir.
Everyone is serious.
Only this.
Something happened a week or two ago,
which has kept deep into the life of the Showscombe ourselves.
And what was it?
We can only get it from its effect.
And they seem to be a curiously mixed character.
But that should surely help us.
It's only the colourless and eventful case which is hoped.
True, now, as well.
Let us consider our data.
The brother no longer visits the beloved invalid sister.
He gives away her favourite dog, Fair Dog Watson.
Does that suggest nothing to you?
Nothing with the brother's spite?
Well, it might be, Sir.
Or, well, there is an alternative.
But the ingenuity of the situation from the time of the Quarrel began.
The lady keeps her room, old as her habits,
is not seen safe when she drives out of her maid.
And refuses to stop at the stable,
even to greet her favourite horse.
That covers the case, does it not?
Flavual business in the crypt?
Yes, yes, the crypt.
But let us suppose it is nearly as gambler supposition,
a hypothesis put forward for argument, say.
But let us suppose that the Robert Norberton has done away with his sister.
My dear Holmes, it's out of the question that it possibly was.
And very possibly, he's a man of honorable stock.
But you do occasionally find a chameleon crow among the eagles.
Let us argue upon this supposition for a moment.
We will.
He's utterly in debt,
and we had any moment be sold up in his racing stable fees by his creditors.
Now, he's a daring and desperate man.
He derives his ankle from his sister.
His sister's maid is his willing tool.
So far, we seem to be entirely safe ground, a winner.
But he could not fly the country until he had realised his fortune,
and that fortune could only be realised by bringing off his win with Shostle Prince.
Therefore, he had disposed of his sister.
He would still have to stand his ground.
He would have to get rid of her body in some way.
With the maid, as he's confident, that would not be impossible.
The body might be conveyed to the crypt,
which is so seldom visited.
And it might later be secretly destroyed at night in the furnace,
leaving behind such evidence as we have seen.
What say you do that, Watson?
Oh, shall I eat it all possible that you've grown the original supposition?
But that's monstrous.
I think there's a small experiment which we might try tomorrow.
It may thirst some light on the matter.
In the meantime, if we intend to keep up our characters,
I suggest you call for a glass of wine
and pull some high converse upon eels and dace.
That's one thing.
Good morning, gentlemen.
Good morning.
Good morning, Mr. Barnes.
Oh, you should have thought you would have been your idea of fishing long before this.
Well, as much of fact, Mr. Barnes, my friend here
for how the fool is they forgot to pack our spoon baits for Jack.
And as we gather, there's nothing to head here about.
We'll just have to forget about fish.
It was only an excuse to get away from London, really.
We'll be soft-miss each time.
Well, perhaps you'll think of taking a walk.
Is that some very nice walking in these parts there?
As a matter of fact, that's just what we're off to do now.
I was wondering to my friend,
maybe you might not be too spending to let us take that dog of yours along with us.
Well, I don't see why not at all, gentlemen.
If you could be bothered with him, I reckon he'll be glad of the exercise, sir.
Or he don't seem to get ten minutes to call me on these days.
It'll be a pleasure.
I think we need exercise as much as the dog does.
This is the case, I imagine.
Those are the good terms.
The entrance to Shostomo Place.
I learned that the only lady's carriage comes through here almost precisely every midday,
as she starts out to her drive.
It's not a midday now.
You having fruit drinks over?
More than that.
The carriage has to slow down, while the gates are being opened for her.
Now, when it comes through, and before I gather speed again, I want you to stop the coachman
with some question.
Yes, and you?
I saw a stand behind this folly bush and see what I can see.
And I think I shall also accidentally loose my hold of this good dog's lead.
But quickly, Watson, I can see the carriage and the bike right now.
Now, you know what to do?
Oh, I don't know.
I don't know.
I don't know.
Boy-no, mate!
I say, fuck me.
Yes, sir!
Couldn't you, man, ease the rubb and offer them that hell in a day.
I was very eighth back from London yet.
Yes, yes, yes, yes!
Hey, Bob there!
Stay away, get away from me!
Run home, Bob!
Run home, Bob!
Run home, ready!
You, Bob!
Yes, yes!
Come here, Bob.
Come here.
Ah, she asked to available for lose.
Well, what's in there?
That's done it.
Ah, so there goes no excitement.
Well, what did you see?
They're just seem to be two of them in the maid, perhaps, in the only, in yet.
Yes, Spotson.
Well, the dog.
Exactly.
He recognized his mistress' carriage, but found a stranger inside it.
Dogs don't make mistakes.
But did you notice anything else?
Well, I did think that voice, the one that called him to drive out,
sounded remarkably like a man.
Yeah, and be there to get one more car to our head.
But it needs careful playing all the same.
I think we'll arrange for another rendezvous this evening
with our friend Mr. John Mason.
And what better place than the crypt?
I can't stay very long, Mr. Roald.
Roald was expected back in a minute.
Oh, very well, Mr. Mason.
But before you go, could you show us the bones you spoke of?
All right, here in this corner.
No.
You were showing your luncheon, Dr. Watson?
Yes, I was saying.
Or is it?
Or is it square?
They call.
As I expected.
I don't understand, sir.
I think the ashes of them might even now be found in that furnace you told us about.
Boy, in the world, would anyone want to burn the bones of a man
who's been dead maybe over here?
Yeah, that's what we're here to find out.
It may mean a long search, and we need not detain you.
I then see if we shall get us a solution before molding that.
Very good, sir.
And I'll be off if you don't mind.
I don't want master to find me, Mr. Mason.
Thank you, Mr. Mason.
You'll be here for me soon enough.
Now, Watson, let us have a closer look at some of these two.
What do you hope to find, Holmes?
I said, what do you hope to find?
What every year?
A coffin.
On each end.
They live, they look good.
There's a less time, very much mistaken.
The recent attempt, but we'll just let me get my lens to it.
Oh, yes.
As I thought, my son's father was and succeeded, I should say.
I think we shall have to do the same with the assistance of my trustee, Kimmy.
Oh, two third, Holmes.
One is a nurse.
Now, just a poor boss, and if you please, and me, and me.
Now this.
This is no ancient corpse, Holmes, this is...
Listen.
What?
Someone's coming.
And who's a devil, may you be?
You hear me?
What are you doing on my property?
I also have a question to ask you, sir, other than Jonathan.
Who are you, I say?
Out with it or by him?
My name is Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes?
Possibly it is familiar to you.
But it's not.
Sherlock Holmes?
Possibly it is familiar to you.
But in any case, my business is that of every other good citizen to uphold the law.
It seems to me that you have much to unsuppose a Robert.
No, it does, does it?
For instance, whose body is this?
And what is it doing here?
Very well, my son.
Everything can be explained, I show you.
Everything's alright.
I'm pleased to hear that.
Appearance is all against me, I'll admit.
But I could act no other wise.
I should like to think, sir.
Come up to the house, please, and you can judge for yourself how things stand.
You have gone pretty deeply into my affairs, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.
I should not have found you where I did.
So you know in all probability that I'm running a dark horse for the dummy,
but everything depends on my success.
If I win, all is easier.
If I lose.
Well, I dare not think of that.
I understand the position.
I am dependent upon my sister, Lady Beatrice, for everything.
But if I'm not mistaken, her interest in the estate is for her life, only.
You know that too, then.
Well, it is so.
For my own part, I deeply am the hands of the money that it does.
I've always known that if my sister were to die, my creditors would be on to my estate like a flock of butcher's.
My credit thing would be seized, my staples, my horse is everything.
Well, Mr. Holmes, my sister did die.
We could go.
A new girl, no one?
No, Dr. Watson, I told no one.
How could I?
If one word had got out, absolute ruin would have descended upon me within a matter of hours.
I know these moneylenders are their methods only to well.
If I could only take things off until the dummy, all would be well.
If your horse wins.
Well, if it doesn't, in any case, surely your bets on the race and your expectations from it would hold good,
even if your creditors did seize your estate.
I also be part of my estate.
And my chief creditor happens to be the same rascal if fellow.
Sam Breuer.
My once was compelled to horse whip out new market heaters.
Yes, I suppose he would try to save me.
Oh, Dr. Watson.
If he got possession of a horse, he'd simply withdrawing from the race.
My bets will be void and my ruin would be complete.
So, Robert, what did your sister die?
Dr. Watson.
It was plagued over years.
Has the doctor certified the bettety?
No.
It surely it is for a coroner to decide, not you.
I catch your meaning, Mr. Holmes.
But I assure you, many doctors would certify that her end would be in no doubt for months now.
But if it had just too soon for you.
Well, what did you do?
You want, sir?
Oh, yes, Carrie.
Come in.
Come in, Norris.
Sir, Mr. Holmes.
This is my late sister's maid, Carrie.
Mrs. Norris.
How'd she do?
And this is her husband, Norris.
How do you?
These are the two people up on earth who can substantiate what I say.
Very well.
Well, as I told you, it occurred to me that if I could only state things off until after the dawn,
they all would be well.
But obviously, the body couldn't remain in the house even though there was no need for anyone to win.
So on the first night, Norris and I carried it out to the old well-house.
I just claim more responsibility.
As I might expect.
However, responsibility is not yours at all.
It happens you can feel the body in the well-house.
Yes.
Then there was a complication of when I sister's spinal.
I used to follow her everywhere.
Turned up at the well-house door and stood there yapping continuously.
It wouldn't go away.
So you got rid of it to the land all over the green wagon?
Yes.
Even so, I felt that some more secure place was needed for her body.
Norris and I carried it by night to the crypt.
There was no indignity or irreverence, Mr. Holmes.
I do not feel I've wronged the dead.
Well, I can picture your thoughts.
Perhaps you would have felt differently in my position.
One cannot see all one's hopes and plans shattered at the last moment and make no effort to save them.
It seemed to me that if there be no unworthy resting place,
if we put up a sometime in one of the coffins of her late husband's ancestors,
they lie in what is still consecrated wronged.
Norris and I...
I just claim...
All right.
We opened the coffin, removed the contents and placed my sister inside as you have seen her.
As to the old relics, they were burnt in the central furthest of night.
It seemed better to leave the blind there for intruders to disturb.
After that, it was but a case of arranging for someone to ride daily in your late sister's carriage,
wearing her toes and keeping up the appearance that she was still alive and well.
Just so.
Now, let me see...
Who could that have been?
Mr. Mollett, I imagine you just claim all responsibility in this as well.
I'd like to know what you think...
Oh, Charlie!
That will do knowledge!
You're quite right, Mr. Holmes.
He impersonated my sister and rode each day besides his wife here.
Receiving everyone except the non-happy dog, who wondered where his mistress had got to.
And you, it seems.
It is my dismissment not to be deceived.
It was my duty to bring the pets to life, and there I was leaving.
As to the morality or decency of your own conduct, it is not for me to express any opinion.
Oh, there you are, Watson.
I thought I had you grow out a few minutes ago.
I did, but I knew seven.
But our papers will be delivered before long, aren't they?
No, Holmes, and I won't even the ball.
Really, Watson?
You've been uncommonly excited all afternoon.
Mr. Now, you're looking as smugglers of well-filled cats.
Pretty let me in here, Stephen.
You'll know what today is, Holmes.
Today?
Today?
Christmas?
Easter, since for days?
I've seen nothing remarkable about it.
It's Darby Day.
The Darby would run this afternoon.
Oh, really?
Is there no?
Ah, I should hesitate to boy you with the particulars.
The Darby was won by a horse named Shoscom Prince, of which we'll address her.
He carried within the dressing of my month's wound, pension, that is all.
The name?
Yes, familiar.
My dear Watson, you can't give me the benefit of your opinion upon this specimen.
Really, if it were not for the microscope, I do not believe we should achieve half the results we managed to.
That was Shoscom Old Place.
A Sherlock Holmes story adapted from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle by Michael Hardwick.
With Cousin Hobbes as Holmes, Norman Shelley as Dr. Watson, Frederick Crees as John Mason,
and Gottrich Emson as Sir Robert Norberton, production by Frederick Bradnam for the BBC.
