← Choice Classic Radio Detectives | Old Time Radio
Choice Classic Radio Detectives | Old Time Radio
Sherlock Holmes: The Five Orange Pips (Hobbs & Shelley)
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Your message amplified. Ready to share your message with the world? Start your podcast journey with Podbean. Podbean. Podbean. Podbean. Podbean. The AI powered all in one podcast platform. Thousands of businesses and enterprises trust Podbean to launch their podcasts. Launch your podcast on podbean today. My school uses Podbean. My church too. I love it. I really do. Welcome to Choice Classic Radio where we bring to you the greatest old time radio shows. Like us on Facebook, subscribe to us on YouTube and thank you for donating@ChoiceClassicRadio.com for me. You can't think who the devil's writing to me and let it wait. Looks interesting, Uncle. It's got a foreign stamp. Well, we'll give it here then. Better find out, I guess. Now what then? What is it? Uncle? It's death. Uncle. Uncle, wait. Come back. Death rattled in the five dry seas that drove Elias Open Shore to frenzy. My name is Watson, Dr. Watson. And I was privileged to share the adventures of Sherlock Holmes. I will tell you what happened in the Case of the Five Orange Pips, in which Holmes accused himself of a fatal error of judgment for reasons you will soon appreciate. Home. Wasn't that the bell? I wasn't aware of it. Who on earth would come on a night like this? Come in. Yes, Mrs. Hudson? Excuse me, gentlemen. Mr. Holmes, a visitor for you. Can you see him? Kindly show the gentleman in. Mr. Holmes will see you, sir. Will you step in? Thank you. It's very good of you, Mr. Holmes. Not at all. My friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. How do you do? How do you do, Dr. Holmes? Sit here, Mr. Oh, I. I beg your pardon. Openshaw. John Openshaw, Mr. Holmes. I heard about you from Major Prendergast. How you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal. I remember. He was wrongfully accused of cheating. A card. Yes. May you be successful with my case. I hope so, but I doubt whether you've ever listened to a more mysterious train of events. Pray tell them to us, Mr. Openshaw, and I will judge. Very well. To begin at the beginning, my grandfather had two sons, Joseph, my father, and Elias, my uncle. My father had a small factory at Coventry, which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. It was such a success that he was able to sell the business for a handsome figure and retire. My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man, became a successful planter in Florida. He fought in the Civil War in Jackson's army, and then under Hood, who made him a colonel when Lee laid down his arms. My uncle returned to his plantation. But after three or four years he came home and he took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham. How long ago was this? 17 or 18 years. Well, after he'd been settled here for about nine years, he asked my father if I might go to live with him for a while. I was about 12 at the time. He taken rather a fancy to me, even though he'd never have anything to do with friends or neighbors, or even, for that matter, with his own brother. Indeed, my father accepted. But I was a bit daunted by my uncle at first. He was fierce and quick tempered, drank a great deal, smoked heavily, scarcely ever set foot outside his own grounds. Still, he was very kind to me in his way. Made me his agent in dealing with servants and tradespeople. And by the time I was 16, I was quite master of the house. Extraordinary. Yes, I could do what I liked, go where I pleased. Oh, that is, with the exception of one locked room up amongst the attics, of course. I peeked through the keyhole, but all I could see was old lumber and trunks and so forth. I'm sorry to go into all this detail, but I think you may find some of it relevant, Mr. Holmes. They continue, Mr. Openshaw. Well, now I come to a day in March, 1883. I was having breakfast with my uncle when a servant brought him a letter which had just been delivered for me. You can't think who the devil's writing to me. Let it wait. Looks interesting, Uncle. It's got a farm stamp. Well, then, who would blaze it? India. India? What's that postmark say? Pondicherry. It's on the east coast, the capital of the French possessions in India. You don't say. Well, we'll give it here, then. Better find out, I guess. Now what? What? What is it? Uncle? It's. It's this. Uncle. Uncle, wait. Come back. Orange pip. Five of them. No, no letter. It was the letter kkk scrawled in red ink on the flap of the envelope, just above the gum. That's all there was, gentlemen. Just that and five dried orange pip. How very odd. Remarkable. Well, as you can imagine, my uncle's abrupt flight from the breakfast table had alarmed me and I. I ran out to look for him. I found him coming down from the attics with a small brass box in his hand. He called to me to send down at once to Horsham for his solicitor, Fordham. When the lawyer arrived an hour later, I was asked to join them both in my uncle's Room. I noticed that the the brass box stood open and empty beside the heart, and that there was a mass of black fluffy ash as from burnt papers in the fire. John, I've called you in because I want you to witness my will. Your will, uncle? I'm leaving my whole estate to my brother, your father, with all its advantages and disadvantages. No doubt it will come to you in turn. If you can enjoy it in peace, then well and good. But if you can't, take my advice, boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. But I don't understand, Uncle Elias. I hope you never will. I'm sorry to pass on such a two edged thing, but that's the way it is. Now, if you'll be kind enough to sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you. Just here. If you forget, you can imagine what an impression all this made on me. I can quite imagine. In the weeks that followed, I couldn't shake off a vague feeling of dread. I could see a change in my uncle too. He drank more than ever. He spent most of his time shut up in his room with the door locked. But sometimes he'd come out in a sort of frenzy with a revolver in his hand and go about the house on the grounds, raving that he was afraid of no one. Well, to come to an end of it, Mr. Holmes, there came an evening when he made one of those drunken sallies into the garden, from which he never returned. Never returned? We found him face downwards in a little pond at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of violence and the water was only two feet deep. The jury at the inquest brought in the verdict of suicide. But you don't think it was so? I found it hard to persuade myself that it could have been. Mr. Openshaw, let me have the date of the reception by your uncle, of that letter from India, and the date of his first suicide. The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. 3-10-83. His death was on May 2, seven weeks later. Thank you. Pray proceed. My father parked into possession of the estate. He. He liked the house and he decided to make it our home. Well, as you can imagine, one of the first things I did was to search that locked attic. Yes, we found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. But on the inside of the COVID was a paper label with the initials KKK repeated upon it, and letters, memoranda, receipts and a register written beneath. But there was nothing else of much importance, mostly odd possessions and a great many scattered papers and notebooks. What kind of papers? Oh, mostly bearing on my uncle's life in America. He seemed to have done well in the war and had the reputation of a brave soldier. The west were concerned with politics. Evidently he took a strong part in opposing the carpet bag politicians sent down from the North. And he was a violent opponent of the colored people's rights. But now I must tell you the rest of my story. Go on. We come now to the beginning of 1885, about a year after my father had taken possession of the house to Horsham again. It happened at the breakfast table. What on earth this, John? Father, five orange papers. You. You remember what I told you about Uncle Elias? Oh, that nonsense. Oh, look, there it is written on the flap of the envelope again. Kkk. Yes, there's something else too. Put papers on. Sundial. What papers? What sundial? There's a sundial in the garden. It might mean that. But the papers. Those must be the ones that Uncle Elias destroyed. Oh, rubbish, boy. Some preposterous practical joke. Where's this been sent from anyway? Dundee, you said that I was from India, didn't you? Only three days after that letter arrived, my father went to visit an old friend of his. He never came back. They sent word to me to say that on his way home alone at dusk, he'd evidently fallen into one of the chalk pits in the neighborhood. He'd been found with his skull shattered. Great heaven. No signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery. The jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of death from accidental causes. They would. Now I come to the final part of my story. My father met his death in January 1885. Two years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I have lived happily at Horsham. And I'd begun to hope that this curse had passed away from the family. But this morning. Mr. Holmes, I receive. Please. Five orange pit. They were in an envelope posted in the eastern part of London. There you see the letters kkk. In that same order. Put papers on some dials. What have you done? Nothing. Nothing? No, I felt. I hope so. But you must act, man, or you're lost. Nothing but energy. Can see I have seen the police. Yes, I just smile. I think the inspector believes the letters are all practical jokes and that the deaths were coincidence. Incredible industry. They have, however, allocated me a policeman who may remain in the house with me. Has he come here with you tonight? No, his orders were to stay in the house. Oh, all the stupidity. Mr. Openshaw. Why. Why didn't you come to me at once? It was Only today that I heard of you from Major Prendica. It's two days since you had the letter. We should have acted before this. Have you any further evidence which might help us? There is one thing. I found this single sheet of paper upon the floor of his room. I only kept it because of the reference to pip. Let me see. March 1869. 7th set the pips on Macaulay, Paramore and Swain. 9th, Macaulay cleared. 10th, John Swain cleared. 12th, visited Paramore. All well? It's undoubtedly my uncle's writing. Thank you. And now you must, on no account, lose another instant. We cannot spare the time even to discuss what you've told me. You must get home instantly and act. What shall I do? There's only one thing to do. You must put this piece of paper you've just shown me into that brass box of your uncle's. You must also put in a note to say that all the other papers were burned by your uncle and that this is the only one remaining. You must assert that really convincingly. You understand? Yes. Then you must at once put the box out onto the sundial as directed. Don't think of revenge or anything of that sort. At present, we have our web to weave, but theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to remove the danger to you. The second is to clear up the mystery and punish the guilty. Tomorrow I shall set to work upon your case. I shall see what Horsham then. No. Your secret lies in London. It is here that I shall seek it. And now, good evening, Mr. Openshaw, and good luck. Podbean, your message amplified. Ready to share your message with the world? Start your podcast journey with Podbean. Podbean, the AI powered all in one podcast platform. Thousands of businesses and enterprises trust Podbean to launch their podcasts. Use Podbean to record your podcast. Use PodBean AI to optimize your podcast. Use PodBean AI to turn your blog into a podcast. Use Podbean to distribute your podcast everywhere. Launch your podcast on Podbean today. Watson. Of all our cases, we've had none more fantastic than this. That young Openshaw seems to be walking amid great perils. Well, you certainly took enough pains to warn him about them. But have you any clear idea what those perils are? There can be no question about them. Then what are they? Who is this kkk, and why did he pursue this unhappy family? Kindly hand me down the letter K of the American Encyclopedia. There you are. Thank you. Now, let us consider the situation and see what we may deduce in the first place, we may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Elias Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English provincial town. No, indeed. His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of someone or something. So we may assume as a working hypothesis that it was this which drove him from America. Yes. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by considering those fateful letters. Now, what were their postmarks again? The first was some Pondicherry in India, wasn't it? Yes. The. The second from Dundee and a third from London, from the east of London. What do you deduce from that? Well, they're all seaports. So the writer was on board a ship. Excellent. We have a clue already. Yes, what from? The strong probability is that the writer was on board a ship. Now consider another point. In the case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfillment. In the case of Dundee, it was only some three or four days. Yes, that's very true. Does that suggest anything? Only that the distance is greater. There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or men are is a sailing ship. It looks as if they always sent their singular warning before them when starting upon a voyage. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee. Oh, that's true. The letters will come, of course, by steam mailboat. But a sailing ship would take all that much longer to get here. Exactly. And now you see the deadly urgency of this case and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow has always followed at the end of the time which it would take the senders to travel the distance. But this latest letter only comes from London. Great heavens. Oh, this is terrible. But you still haven't told me what it all means. The papers which Elias Openshaw kept in that brass box are obviously of the deepest importance to the person or persons in the sailing ship. Yes, I think there must be more than one of them. A single man couldn't have carried out two killings in a way to deceive a coroner's jury. Well, then what? Don't you see? KKK ceases to be the initials of an individual. It becomes the badge of a society. But of what society? Have you never heard of the Q Plan? The what? I see you haven't. Well, what is the encyclopedia? Here we are. Ku Klux Klan, a name derived from a fanciful resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret society was formed by some ex Confederate soldiers in the southern states after the Civil War and it rapidly formed local branches in such parts as Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas and Florida. Its power was used for political purposes, principally for the terrorizing of colored voters and the murdering or driving from the country of those who were opposed to its views. And I listen to this, Watson. Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic but generally recognized shape. A sprig of oak leaves, melon seeds or orange pips. By Jove, Holmes. Yeah, I don't think the rest will help us. So I. I see that the general collapse in the movement came in 1869, which you remember was the very year Elias Openshaw returned to England from America bringing those papers with him. So it was then. Then you think that he was a leading member and that those were records which would implicate some of the others. With no doubt some important citizens of the south amongst them. I fancy that there are some who will not sleep easily until they know that those papers no longer exist. That page from his uncle's diary young Openshaw showed us. How do you interpret that? Quite simply. It ran something like set the pips on A, B and C. What's in the society's warning to them then? There are success events that A and B were cleared or presumably left the country, but that C was visited. That I fear sinister result for him. Holmes. It's a grim outlook for young Openshaw until they know he no longer possesses those papers. It is indeed, Watson. Ah, Watson, you'll excuse my not waiting breakfast for you. I have a busy day ahead of me. Holmes, you're too late. What? I've just got the newspapers. Young Openshaw, he's dead. Oh, I fear this much. How was it done? You listen to this tragedy. Near Watero Bridge between 9 and 10 last night, police constable cook of H Division on duty near Waterloo Bridge heard a cry for help and a splash in the water. The night however, was extremely dark and stormy, so that in spite of the help of several passersby, it was quite impossible to affect a rescue. Later, water police recovered the body of a young man who was identified by papers on him as John Openshaw of Horsham. It is believed that in hurrying to catch a train from Waterloo station, he missed his way and walked over the edge of one of the landing places for river steamers. The body bore no traces of violence. And there can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident. Ah, well, Holmes. This hurts my pride, Watson. It becomes a personal matter with me now. And if God sends me help I shall set my hand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help and that I should send him away to his death. Holmes, you couldn't have foreseen. No, no, don't try to excuse me, Watson. I'm going out. Not the police? No, I shall be my own police when I have spun the web. They may take the five but not the fall. Here you are, sir. This is a list of every vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February 1883, 36 of them in all. Thank you. Now. Ah, the Bart Lone Star. The Lone Star State Texas I think. Yes sir. She's an American all right. Now, have you the Dundee record for January? 85? Yes, yes, yes sir. Capital. So what we must. There. The only one of those vessels which called a Pondicherry in 83 and which also called at Dundee in 85 is the lone Star. There's no question, I take it that this is the same Lone Star on each occasion or none at all. We know her well. Captain James Calhoun. Ah, and, and where is she now? Well, since you're so interested in us, it's a pity you didn't call here 24 hours earlier. She went downriver on this morning's tied from the Albert dock bound for Savannah. No, I might have known. Well, is there anything I can do, sir? I fear not. Once again I'm too late. But while I am here you can perhaps give me some information about her captain and crew. Oh, with the greatest pleasure, Mr. Holmes. We pride ourselves on the most up to the moment shipping records in the entire country. Holmes, where on earth have you been all this time? Where's that loaf of ours? Loaf? Oh, it's under the COVID on the sideboard of course. Thank heaven. Ah, Holmes, there is a bread knife. You're hungry? Starving. I've had nothing since breakfast. Nothing. But it's nearly midnight. Not a bite. Haven't had time to think of it. By the way, have we an orange? What? Of course there's one here I think. But Mrs. Hudson will have something cold downstairs. I don't wish to eat it. Watson, hand me that knife. No, I mean to cut it and squeeze it and then 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 pips into this envelope they go and I address it to Captain James Cahoon Bach Lone Star, Savannah, Georgia. Holmes. Watson. It will await him when he enters Port Watson, I wish him to suffer at least one sleepless night such as he inflicted on some of these victims. He's your man then. One of them, the Lone Star, was in Pondicherry in 83 and Dundee in 85, just at the time when those letters were sent from those places. She was also in London until this morning. And I learned that her captain and the only two other Americans aboard her were absent from her on some mistakes furious errand last night from which they returned drunk and triumphant. Who told you this? The stevedore in charge of her loading. She left on the morning tide and today's northeasterly wind in the channel will have taken her well past the Goodwins by now. There was nothing left but to cable to the police at Savannah. And now to send this letter off by the fastest means. I do not wish Captain Colquhoun to escape this little taste of his own medicine before he's arrested and sent back here on a triple charge of murder instead of KKK Watson. I shall inscribe this envelope's flap with SH so that they may learn that one as cunning and resolute as themselves has been upon that track. But there is a flaw sometimes in the best laid of human plans. Even in those were Sherlock Holmes. Very long and severe were the equinox gales that year. We waited long for news of the Lone Star of Savannah. None ever came. But at long last, far out in the Atlantic, a shattered sternpost of a boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave with the letters LS carved upon it. And that is all we forever know of the fate of the Lone Star. The Case of the Five Orange Bibs was one of the earliest stories of Sherlock Holmes written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. In real life. My name is Norman Shelley. My old friend Carlton Hobbs played Sherlock Holmes and I was Dr. Watson. The script for this BBC production from London was by Michael Hargrave. And I look forward to the pleasure of your company again soon for more of the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.