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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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Hey, it's Cole Fwendo. After I give everything I've got to land a perfect vocal,
I usually take five before jumping into the next track.
And I've learned exactly how to recharge in that time.
Some folks grab coffee. I hit a quick good looks then.
Next thing you know, the break is just as fun as land down the track.
A better break makes for a better take.
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The original and immortal stories of Sarasric olendoyles,
traumatized Daniel with Saralph Richardson as Dr. Watson and Sarjong Gilgurth in the role of Sherlock Holmes.
I should never forget that April morning,
when I asked again, this evidence told me, into our city room.
She was the most attractive young lady,
dressed in black, with a head in her veil,
and the pure, much displayed.
It's not the coldest mechanism in Mr. Holmes.
Fear, terror.
I can stand this train no longer.
I should go mad if it continues.
I don't want to turn to.
Even my fiancee believes it's only my imagination.
Fear, will you soon set matters to right side, no doubt?
My name is Helen Stoner,
and I'm living with my stepfather,
who is the last survivor of one of the oldest families in England.
The royale up the stoke moron on the Western border side.
The name is familiar to me now.
The family used to be very rich.
Now there's nothing left over two acres
in an old house crushed under a heavy mortgage.
Eight years ago, my mother died.
Was your mother a wealthy woman?
She had a fortune of some thousand pounds a year,
but she decreased to Dr. Roylet, entirely,
so long as we resided between,
with the provision that a certain annual sum
should be allowed to both Julia and myself
if either it was should marry.
Tell me, did Dr. Roylet continue to practice
after you're returned to England?
No, not after the death of my mother.
He took my sister and me to live with him at stoke moron,
and for a time we were quite happy together.
A terrible change began to come over our stepfather.
He shut himself up, and only came up to indulge
in violent quarrels with his neighbors.
He's ended by the cunning, bitterly feared in the village.
He has no friends at all, but the wandering bands of gypsies
that he allows the camp in his clums.
He's a collective, strange animals.
He has an Indian cheater and a baboon
which won the freely over the estate,
and the feared by the villagers almost as much as he is.
No serpent would stay with us.
We had to do all the work at the house.
You could imagine what it was like for my sister and me.
And when she died, though she was only 30,
Julia's head began to turn white,
even from his mind head.
No sister died just two years ago.
Soon after she'd become engaged to be married.
It's only a fortnight before the wedding.
She died in terrible suffering.
Did your stepfather offer any objection to our marriage?
No, he didn't appear to.
The circumstances of your sister's death.
Please be precise about the detail.
It's easy to be so full.
Every event of that gutful time is feared into my memory.
As I said, the manor house is very old.
And only one wing is now loose.
The bedroom in this wing are on the ground floor.
So my stepfather's then my sister's in the mine.
There's no communication between them,
but they open on the same corridor
and look out after the same lawn.
That night, Dr. Reuters, my stepfather,
had gone to his room early,
but was not yet asleep for my sister
was troubled by the strong smell of his Indian cigar.
She left her room and came into mine
where she sat chatting about her coming wedding.
Well, Helena, how are you getting back to bed?
He must be asleep by now.
My way, have you ever heard a strange whistle in the dead at night?
A whistle?
No, why?
There's a lot of you nights.
About three in the morning.
I've been awakened by a low clear whistle.
I haven't heard it, but then I sleep more heavily than usual.
And it's of no consequence.
Good night.
I couldn't sleep that night.
I'd lost my door after Julia left.
We always locked our doors for fear of the cheetah
and the baboon that put it out every night in the ground.
I remember it was a wild night.
But when he was harming outside in the rain,
he didn't get to window.
I had a terrible premonition of evil.
And suddenly, through the storm...
My sister was screaming.
I stayed for my bed.
Got to show her, and then rushed into the corridor.
As I opened my door, I heard a distant whistle.
A whistle and a clanging sound
is if a massive metal had fallen somewhere.
As I ran towards it, my sister's doors are not as slowly swung open.
The night of a lamp I saw her standing there,
her face danced with cheetah.
Her hands grew up in the help of her whole figure swain,
tall fellow.
And me again, friend, she fell to the ground.
She almost screamed the one thing before she died in my arms.
It was the band.
The pickled band.
It seems that Julius Turner's death was carefully investigated
by the local coroner.
The doctor, while it's conduct, had been notorious in the country,
and foul play was suspected.
But no satisfactory explanation of the tragedy was ever found.
The doctor had been asleep in his room.
The scream had awakened him.
Julius' room had been locked on the inside.
The windows had been shut up.
The chimney was barred by iron staples.
It was certain that Julius Turner had been quite unknown
when she had met her end.
It was nothing to indicate how she had met it.
There were no marks of violence on the body,
and the doctors could find no evidence of poison.
It's my belief that she died of sheer terror and nervous shock.
I cannot imagine what it was that frightened her.
I cannot imagine.
Were there any gypsies camping in the plantation at the time?
Yes, they didn't really always come there.
And what did you gather from her illusion of the speckled band?
Sometimes I thought it was made a delirium.
Sometimes I wondered if it might have referred to some band of people,
perhaps those very gypsies in the plantation
with their spotted handkerchiefs on their heads.
These are very deep waters, Mr. Turner, please don't arm.
Two years have passed since then,
and until lately, my life has been no more than ever.
A month ago, however, I became engaged to the married
to Mr. Armitage, a neighbor I was and a very dear friend.
I said, my stepfather might often reject me,
but he's made no difficulties
and we had to be married later this spring.
You heard?
Two days ago, some repair started in the West Wing,
so that I'd had to move out of my own room
into the room next door,
the room in which I just had died.
Last night, I lay awake thinking about terrible things.
I suddenly heard in the silence of the night
that same low was true.
The room was locked,
and there appeared to be nothing wrong
when she sprained out of bed and lit her lamp,
and then still had been too terrified to go back to bed.
As soon as it was light,
she brought an early morning train to London
that comes straight round
to ask the advice of Sherlock Holmes.
You were done very wisely.
So are you sure you told me everything?
Yes, everything.
I think you are still shielding your stepfather, Mr. Turner.
Isn't that the mark of his great plan on your list?
He's a hard man.
Back to your heart, he knows his old strength.
This is a very deep business,
and from what you told me,
there may not be a moment to lose.
If we were to come down to Stokemore on the day,
would it be possible to see over the bedrooms
without the knowledge of your stepfather?
I think so.
He told me last night he was coming to London for the day.
There should be no one to disturb you.
Excellent, then we shall both come.
What are you going to do yourself?
I have one or two things to attend to in town
that I shall be home shortly after noon.
And you may expect us early this afternoon, Mr. Turner.
Goodbye for the present.
We discussed many possible theories
after Mr. Turner had left.
We were in the midst of our deliberations
when we received another visitor.
Which of you is Holmes?
My name, sir, but you have the advantage of me.
I am Dr. Grimes de Roylipt.
Stokemorel.
My stepfather has been here.
What have you been saying to you?
It is a little cold for the time of the year.
I'm not sure she'd been saying to you.
But I've heard that the Caucasus has promised very well.
No, you'll put me up to you.
I know Mr. Turner has been to see you.
But don't you dare meddle in my affairs?
I'm a dangerous man to fall if I love you.
See that your kickers have out of my grip.
Oh, I like this poker.
I'll spank you.
An amiable person,
sending out poker almost double you deserve.
I'm not quite so bulky.
But if you remain,
I might have shown him that my grip
was not much more feeble than his own.
There.
I think that's just about straight again.
You know my dear,
what's in this little incident gives a new zest
to our investigations?
We shall certainly see what we can find
that Stokemorel is afternoon.
Good afternoon, Mr. Turner.
You said we'd been as good as our words.
I've been waiting so eagerly for you.
Now, you must make the best use of our time,
so kindly take us at once
to the room of your journey.
The building was a grave,
nitching block stone
at a high central portion
and two curting wings
like the poles of a pad
turned out on each side.
The central block
and the east wing were empty
and in poor repair.
The lines to the windows
and blue smoke curting up from the chin
showed that part of the west wing
in which the family resided.
So the scaffolding
been erected against the end wall
and the stonework had been broken into it,
but there were no work from above.
The domes are desiring the outside
of the free bedroom windows
with the closest attention.
This, I think,
belongs to the Roman Matullus
to sleep.
The center one is your sister's room
and the one next to the main building
is Dr. Roller.
Yes, but I'm sleeping in the middle one, of course.
Fending the alterations, as I understand.
By the word,
it doesn't seem to be in a pressing need
for the pears
to that end wall.
There were none.
I believe that it was an excuse
to move me from my own room
into my sister's.
Oh, that is suggested.
Well, these windows
and stuff are quite firm.
No one could possibly get in this way
if they were firmly
bolted on the inside.
We shall have to see
if the room was themselves
or any light on this matter.
A small side door
leading to the white box corridor
from which the feet bedroom was opened.
The room's
first and once
into the room
in which villains
children was now
sleeping in the middle one
of the three,
the bedroom
in which her sister
had met her death.
It was a homey little room
played in a furnace.
Homey's eyes
traveled round and round
up and down
taking in every detail.
What does that dialogue
communicate with
the house keepers
room?
It looks newer than
the other thing.
Yes, it was
put in a couple of years ago
just before my sister's death.
I can't think
why she certainly
never used it
indeed.
It's such a nice,
long, bell-pool
but it can be
with actually
thought the castle
hangs down to the very
color.
Let me see.
Why, it's a dummy.
Longing green?
No.
Even attached to a wire.
You can see it.
It's passing
to a hook up there.
Just about the
middle opening of the
ventilator.
Okay, it's
said.
I never noticed it
before.
There is.
I'm not sure
of a bill that I
would open the ventilator
into the next room.
When you might have
made it through the outer
wall to the fresh air.
Well, that's also quite
modern.
It was done about the same
time as the bill looked.
There were several
little changes
headed out about that
time.
Shocked
clear before your sister's
death.
Why, yes.
It moved
into the bedroom
next door,
and it was
large otherly
stepped out of us, but
just as
played in the furnace.
It can't
bed an arm chair, a
plain wooden chair against
the wall, a
round table, and the
large iron safe for the
principal things which
get their eye.
Once again,
holdings
examine them all
with the
accused interest.
In one
corner of the
bed, you found a small
dog leg.
Noted.
So, it's to make a
loop of the
whipped core.
This is interesting.
What do you make of that
Watson?
That is common
enough.
Lash.
I don't see why
it should be tied into
a loop.
That's quite
so common, is it?
Ms.
Turner, what is your
step-product
keep in the safe here?
This is
made paper.
Or you've seen
inside it then.
Only once,
some years ago, it was
put a paper
saying it wasn't
a cabinet by any
column.
No.
This change, I
do.
Look, standing on
the top of the
bed.
Here, we don't
keep a cat.
If I told you
they're the
cheat hands.
Oh, yes.
The cheat
has just a big cat.
Yet the
philosopher of
milk doesn't go
to the farthest
side.
I just say.
No.
Just one more point.
Let me examine this
wooden child.
Very interesting.
And now, Ms. Stone,
I want to do a
little carefully.
I'm
I assure you that I'm in your hands.
Your life may depend on it.
The matter is too serious to any hesitation.
In the first place, then, the doctor
Watson and I must spend the night here in your room.
That's how the death door holds.
No, that makes a clear idea Watson.
You must turn him into tired of your room
on the terms of the headache, when your stepfather comes back.
When you hear him retire for the night into this next door
you must open the shutters of your window, undo the house,
pick your lamp there as a signal to us.
We shall see if none of that in the village.
Then go back into your old room,
despite the repairs, the study carried the weather one night.
Yes, of course.
We shall spend the night in the middle room
and then we shall be able to investigate the cause of this noise
which has set a statue.
Sherlock Holmes and I had new difficulty
in engaging rooms of the village even from which
we could command the view of the Inhibitive Wing
of Stoke Modern Manor House.
At dusk, we saw Dr. Grande's day
while at the dry pass, lashing his horse.
The trek turned into the manor drive.
In the few moments, we saw a sudden light
bringing up among the trees as the lamp was lit
in one of the seeking rooms.
You know what's my fun scoop?
It's about taking you to night.
It's a distinct element of danger.
Can I be of a system?
Your cousins might be invaluable.
Then I'll certainly come.
But you speak of danger.
You obviously see more in these rooms than was visible to me.
No, but I think I may have detuned a little more.
I imagine that you saw all I did.
I saw nothing remarkable.
This is the better world.
But what?
You saw the ventilator, too.
Yes.
There's nothing very unusual about that.
There's a de-secureus coincidence in this.
A ventilator is made, a cord is hanging,
and a lady who sleeps in the bed below dies.
Does that not strike you?
Can't there yet see any connection?
Did you observe anything very peculiar about the bed?
No.
It was clamped to the floor,
so that it must always be in the same position
that I looked into the ventilator and the door of the homes.
A scene to see didn't they?
What's your driving at?
They're only adjusting time to prevent some trouble.
I'm a horrible client.
Yes, well, optimizing.
We shall have harder than us before the night is over.
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About nine o'clock, the light among the trees was extinguished.
I'm always dark in a manor house.
Two hours passed slow rearway.
And then, suddenly, a single bright light
shone out from the darkness of the West Wing.
That's our signal.
It comes from a little window.
Come on.
The little difficulty in entering the ground
threw a hole in the park wall.
We crossed the lawn and we came to the open window.
When out of a clump of marble bushes
they had darted what seemed to be a serious and disported child.
It threw itself on the grass with a writhing limb
and then went specifically into the darkness.
I haven't seen you see at home here.
A nice house, though.
That was the baboon.
Quick, quick, in through the windows,
before they did it by the Cheetahs.
The silently climbed inside,
losing the shutters,
and moving the lamp onto the table.
Ooms cast his eyes round the room.
Or was, and we had seen it that afternoon.
We've been sick of outer light.
You can see it through the ventilator.
Yes.
Don't fall asleep.
You're very likely to bend upon it.
I don't just already in case it should be.
I took out my revolver
and I laid it on the corner of the table.
Ooms, I bought a long tin canberin,
which he laid on the bed beside him.
Next to it, he placed a box of matches in a candle.
Then he turned out the lamp,
and we were left in utter darkness.
How shall I ever forget that dreadful video?
From outside,
came the occasional cry of a bird of the night,
and once at our very window,
a long, drawn cat-like wine,
which told us that the Cheetah was indeed that liberty.
12 o'clock stuck.
1 o'clock, 2 o'clock, 3 o'clock.
And still we set our way to silent bed,
forwarded our might before.
And this, though,
that brings the green of light
and the ventilator to very seriously.
Very?
A silver burning oil,
and we could nestle.
Someone in the next room,
let that dark lamp,
or have a gentle sound of movement.
A half an hour,
the sky would begin.
At one point,
it would never sound.
A very gentle,
soothing sound,
like that of a snow-differed steam,
is skinking from a candle.
You see it, what?
See it?
Striking a match,
pulling,
glips from a bed,
was laughing.
Here it is,
very clean,
looking at the bed,
I had him no,
clear,
sick and brittle.
In the room,
I could still not see
what the room was attacking,
so thank you.
All I could read out,
the hotter I'm going to know,
being honest,
pale,
drunk, face.
Ah!
Ah!
Ah!
Ah!
Ah!
That's clean.
It's on the phone.
What's in it,
it seems.
It seems not something that is all over,
but it takes up this room,
coming to me,
and Dr. Whiteoff room.
Dr. Whiteoff room.
It seems not something that's wrong.
He was estranged
and terrible sight that met a eye.
On the tables,
to the dark lantern,
to the shut-a-hop open,
throwing a brilliant beam of light,
upon the iron safe,
the door of which was a guard.
Besides his tables,
that Dr. Brown's bare-wilded,
had in a long-wrapping down.
His team was cocked upward,
his eyes were fixed,
in a dreadful,
rigid stare at the cold over ceiling.
Above his brow,
he had a peculiar yellow gun,
with a brownish pickle,
which seemed to be
bound tightly around his,
then walked in,
the pickled dam.
The pickled dam,
along the head of the dead man,
was a snake,
but did this,
naked in here,
and fed us,
like some fed us.
And Dr. Brown's bare-wilded,
had died,
his pickles,
and the heart of that snake had bitten.
There's violence,
having truth,
a toilet on the violin,
and the schemer falls
into the pit,
and takes for another,
that has thrust this creature
back into his bed,
and he spoke,
plain blue,
the dog fit,
swiftness in the dead man's lap,
and throwing the naked loot,
around the reptile's neck,
to do it from its horrid perch,
and to throw it into the iron safe.
And now, my dear,
we can remove this stone
at a some type of shelter,
and let the country police know what was happening.
That's how I wore me,
the greatest suit I've eaten,
so new to me,
this is tight,
I'm still there,
no fear of forget.
I have come to an entirely awareness conclusion,
which turns my dear Watson,
how dangerous it always is,
for Jesus and Jesus,
in sufficient data.
So, in terms of the gifts of Jesus,
and the use of the word,
damn,
that poor girl Julia,
obviously,
has built the snake,
if she's stuck in a match.
Well,
David sufficient to put me on an entirely wrong scent.
I only corrected my mistake,
and I saw how impossible it was,
to enter the room,
either by the door,
or the window.
The bed will,
the ventilator,
and the cramped bed,
then gave rise
to the physician,
but the looks would vary
as a bridge,
for something passing through
the hole,
and coming down to bed.
The idea of the snake is,
to be a company,
for as you,
you already have a doctor
had his own supply
of strange pets in India.
And the whistle,
and the clam,
the whistle of the doctor's signal,
to recall the snake,
before the morning light could reveal it as a victim,
after all,
once it would come down to bed,
but it might or might not
have become a victim,
but two more later,
the doctor would use the word.
I have come to these conclusions,
before I enter these rooms,
you seem to deduce something,
even the working chair,
of course,
you have to stand on that three-centimeter.
The torso,
a newt,
a newt will fit cold,
the iron space,
but enough to dispel
any doubts that might have remained.
A metallic iron,
I suppose,
was the doctor,
sucking the snake,
seeing the safe again,
exactly,
and not the window shot
of being replaced,
as it caused the iron suppose.
A blow to my cane,
of course,
builds the group back to the ventilator,
and allows it to temper.
It is either by the first person it saw.
So, in a way,
I'm as responsible,
for Dr. Roilock's death,
but I cannot say
that it's like the way
that it happened to me,
of my conscience.
A draw up your chair,
for the fire,
my best fellow,
and do some good
as to how many of my violines.
The only problem we have to solve,
now my dear Watson,
is how to wire away
to use all the trinity
as an evening.
The adventures
of Sherlock Holmes,
based on the original stories
of Sir Arthur Coleman Doyle,
have been gone
at times in you,
with original music,
composed by City Thoughts.
Sir Ralph Wickelson,
raised a part of Dr. Watson,
and Sir John Gildred,
died of Sherlock Holmes,
a program was produced
by Harry Ellen Towers.
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and enjoy savings
that make life a little easier.
As a mutual insurance company,
we're built for our customers.
We prioritize your needs,
and are here for you
when you need us.
Amika,
Empathy is our best policy.
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and get a quote today.
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