
Secrets Of Scotland Yard - Hunted Hunter
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Presenting clyde brook in the secrets of scotland yard. How do you do? This is Ty Brook. Well, I'm glad to be with you again. To keep our rendezvous with the macabre, I call today's episode the Case of the Hunted Hunter. Whenever public attention is focused on the flight of a notorious criminal. Some people admit to some sympathy for the hunted. My advice is don't waste your tears. For in most cases, the man who is being hunted deserves his fate. I think you'll agree with me when you hear today's story of the Hunted Hunter. It is the afternoon of October 7, 1942. The Fair country of England is overrun with khaki colored figures. And crisscrossed with a track of a thousand tanks and lorries. The armies not only of Britain, but. For if her allies are engaged in the endless rehearsals. Which form so large a part of modern warfare. Even the loveliest parts of our beautiful countryside. Clatter to the rattle of Bren gun carriers and machine gun fire. Places that had not heard or seen man or his mischief for many a long month. Hankley Common, a beauty spot in the heart of Sudden. Down one of the leafy lanes. Comes a crew of marines aboard a Bren gun carrier. Their map reading is not perhaps their strongest point. For they've swerved well off the beaten track. And are coming to a cul de sac in a little remote dell. I tell you, Ginger, we're lost.
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Darn it.
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Lincoln City. You trust old Hawk Eyes, I reckon Old Hawk Eye needs a new pair of specicles. I tell you. Got pieces cracked up right out in the main road. Is that so, Mr. Blinking Hawkeye.
C
Well, what do you make of this? I pull her up.
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I'll say you made a mistake. Heaven knows we'll have to reverse the carrier to get out of here.
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Well, you can back it up around
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by the side of those bushes.
C
Okay. Ain't it beautiful?
B
I wish we could spend the afternoon here. This right, we'll have a picnic. I'm sure the sergeant won't mind. Shut up. Let's get going.
C
Mind how you go. Yeah, soft by those bushes.
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You don't want to get bogged down.
C
I'll get out and give you the word. Slowly. All right. Another two fish. Oi.
D
What is it?
C
Stop for a minute. Look at that wet sticking out of the ground where the track has turned it up. It's. It's a human arm.
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But for that chance, the remains of the body might have lain there for years until time finally removed all trace. Even when the discovery took place, there was little on which to work. One of Scotland Yard's famous murder squad teams, Chief Inspector Green and Detective Sergeant Hodge, were sent down to Hankley Common to tackle the investigation.
D
They haven't left as much to go on?
B
No, sir. What do you think the chances are for identification?
D
Well, it's difficult to tell. The man who did this job was no fool. Intersected the body in such a way that we'll have the devil's own job to work anything out. I think we'll take some samples of the soil to see if we can trace any sign of poison. In the meantime, I want this wood sealed off and then searched section by section. Yeah, we better have my detectors to help us. There might be a knife or something of that kind.
B
Very good.
D
I'm going back to town to have a word with Fred Chedd.
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Fingerprint.
D
Well, if there's anybody who can help us, it's the fingerprint department. At the Yard,
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Superintendent Fred Terrell was battled. Nowhere was there a patch of skin which still held those telltale ridges which might have helped in the identification of the victim. Then into the picture came Dr. Keith Simpson, home Office pathologist.
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I have based my investigation on the small sample of hair with which I was supplied. The hair belongs to a woman, or rather a girl in her late teens, naturally blonde hair, dyed brown and bleached again. I should say it was worn in some short hairstyle. Probably a problem.
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Meantime, back at Hankley Common, Chief Detective Inspector Green was leading an intensive search. Scotland Yard had decided that this was a case of murder in the belief that a body rarely gets buried among the soil of a remote woodland dell for innocent reasons. Whoever had hidden the body and committed the murder had known these woods well for almost every trace of the victim. And the crime had been covered up. Almost every trace, but not quite.
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Get this shrubbery cleared away.
B
Yes, sir. I got four men working to the back with knives.
D
Yes, but for heaven's sake, try and avoid disturbing the soil too much, particularly that pathway.
B
We went over that this morning, sir. I've taken impressions on some of the footprints.
D
Good. Now, let's go over everything we've found so far.
B
First of all, sir, there's this little crucifix. Mm, yes.
D
Probably worn by the girl.
B
Then we found these pages from the Bible and a few sodden bits of letters.
D
Any luck with deciphering them?
B
No, sir. I'm afraid the rain has practically washed the writing away. Then we came across this. Bit of cart.
D
Part of an identity card, isn't it?
B
Yes, sir. I've had that check with the Yard and the samples tally. Unfortunately, it's just a piece of the corner. And so far, we've not found anymore. Oh, come over here.
D
Oh, what's that?
B
Sounds as though they found something, sir.
C
Oh, come on.
B
Right over here, sir.
D
Around the back of those bushes.
C
All right. They're coming.
D
Here we are, sir. What in heaven's name.
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It's some sort of art?
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More of a shelter. It's made of woven saplings. A very neat job. Yeah. I'll tell you what it is. It's a wigwam. My boy's a scout and they teach him to make this sort of thing.
B
I doubt if they can make it as well as this one, sir. It's really a beautiful job of work.
D
There must be some sort of expert in this country who can tell us something about wigwams. I'll get in touch with the Yard.
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And from the hundreds of different experts for at the disposal of Scotland Yard came a man who was, believe it or not, an expert on wigwams. He was motored down to Hankley Common post haste and after examining the structure carefully, said to Detective Inspector Green
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the
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work of a Cree Indian.
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Cree Indian? What in heaven's name was he doing on Hankley Common?
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What indeed.
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Ch, ch, ch.
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Meantime, from the other fragments of evidence, Scotland Yard was starting to piece together the trail which had been so carefully concealed. To the police laboratory went the stained and sodden letters. The bit of identity card was traced to its office of origin. Questions. Questions to every person who lived, worked or moved near Hankley Common. A blond girl, bobbed hair. A Cree Indian.
D
Yes, I remember seeing a girl like that. She lived in the woods for several months.
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It'd be. I was out late at night on my business.
D
Oh, what business? Well, sir, I do occasionally take a little walk at night. All right, I know poaching. Still, never mind that. I'm concerned with something a lot more serious. You say you saw this girl? That's right, sir. Not often, mind you. She was cunning like. Didn't like herself to be seen. Kept herself hidden. There was a man with her. He was a soldier. Oh, you mean he wore battle dress? That's right, sir. But it weren't like our lads were different somehow. How do you mean different? Well, sir, it were more classy like. And this soldier fella, he weren't English. You mean he was colored? Well, he weren't English, but he were a real smart un. I only saw him twice. Then it were by accident. He was standing over there by that tree. Quite still like. Just like on the movies. Like Red Indian. Hello? Z. Canadian Army Records. This is Detective Inspector Green of Scotland Yard. I want your assistance. You had a camp near Godalming in the winter of 1941 and the early spring of the following year. Yes. Well, I'd like very much to have from you a roll of all the personnel stationed at that camp. And in particular I'm interested in any soldier of Indian parentage.
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Yeah, that's right.
D
Ah, good. Tomorrow morning.
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Right.
D
Thank you very much.
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But remember, all the Scotland Yard had at this time was the knowledge that a girl, as yet unidentified and a man who looked like an Indian had been seen together in the woods. But now all the resources of the Yard were devoted to finding an answer to the question. Whose body was it that had lain in that dell at Hankley Common?
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Yes, that's right, sir. The identity card did come from this office.
D
You can tell that from the fragment of the upper part of the card?
C
Yes sir. They're just enough to give us the district for certain. Still, it could be one of 10,000 different numbers. So I can't help with much more than that.
D
Wait a minute. You say there are 10,000 possible numbers?
C
Yes sir.
D
But if I told you to belong to a girl of 18 or 19 years, how long would it take you to sort out the cards into that category?
C
Oh, in that case, only a few hours. Right.
D
I'll wait.
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And so almost by the time the report had come in from the Canadian Army Records Office, Scotland Yard had managed to identify the body as that of Joan Pearl Wolf, a 19 year old girl who had run away from home and who had disappeared.
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Green here. Oh good. And were there any Indians on the strength of that unit? Ah, I see. Well, would you mind spelling that name? A U G U S T E S A N G R E T. And where's he now? Thank goodness he hasn't gone overseas. Yes, I should like to see him. Well, if he's as near as that to London, perhaps we can bring him into the Yard for a little talk. Yes, why? Then we'll make it 12 o' clock tomorrow morning. You were stationed at Godalming last year?
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Yes.
D
Did you know a blonde girl?
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Yes.
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Did you live with her in a wigwam you constructed on Hankley Common? Was her name Joan?
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Yes.
D
What else.
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Was it?
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Joan Pearl Wolf?
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Yes.
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Then why not say so?
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And so it went on. Cautious and non committal. Sandwich seemed completely unperturbed by the investigation. He was asked to give his fingers Prince, but told he need not do so. Without a word he thrust his hands deep into his pockets. That was that. The Yard had not enough evidence to charge him, so he went back to his unit. However, Green was convinced that provided the woods could yield sufficient evidence, Sanford would prove to be the killer. The hunt for evidence was on. One of the first discoveries in a renewed search of the wood in Hanky Common was the marks of a knife.
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Rather a strange shape, isn't it?
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Yes sir.
D
Just like a parrot's beak. Where did you find those knife marks?
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Several places. All over the wigwam.
D
We'll take an impression of these knife marks and let Dr. Simpson have them. I'm going to have a talk with him. And so you see, any evidence you can give us as to how the murder was committed would be of enormous value. Her skull was shattered with some kind of club. But she was also stabbed. Take a look at this cast. The blade is shaped like a parrot's beak. Could this have been the weapon? Can you leave this cast with me? I'd like to have a go over with me.
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Dr. Keith Simpson reported back that a knife of this description had been used for the murder.
D
That knife must be found.
B
We've been over the ground very carefully, sir.
D
We'll go over it again and again. Whatever happens, we must find that knife.
B
The woods were searched again. Then, following a fresh line, Green ordered Sandvit's barrack room to be searched. A number of his companions were brought in for questioning.
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A knife with a blade like a parrot's feet.
B
Sure, I remember a knife like that. Funny you should come to mention it. I didn't know Sandgrid very well but one afternoon I walked out to the wigwam he had built in the woods. I saw the knife stuck in a tree. The only reason I was there was I had to get Sangrid back. He had been absent without leave. There was a girl with him there. No, I've not seen the knife since. Why?
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What's up?
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By this time a fresh unit was occupying the barracks where Sandcut had been stationed. A squad of men were put to work to search every inch of the ground near the huts. And finally they found the knife in the bend of a toilet drain under the floor of one of the wash houses. Dr. Keith Simpson, the pathologist, came down to the Dell of Hankley Common and in the twilight of an October evening carried out a dramatic experiment.
D
We found this club in the woods. We have reason to think it may have been used by Sangrid. Now, here's the knife. First of all, I'd like to match the knife against the mark in the tree. And then, Dr. Simpson, I'd like to match the club and the knife against that reconstruction you have of the girl's skull. I see. All right then. Well, let's make a start.
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Painstakingly the measurements were compared. The chain of evidence was almost complete. Sanford was brought under escort in Scotland Yard for another interview.
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Now, Sangrid, I want you to take a look at this. You see this club?
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Yes.
D
Have you ever seen it before?
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No.
D
You've never touched this club in your life?
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No.
D
Well, in that case, you'd have no objection to giving us your fingerprints? That would be conclusive proof, wouldn't it? Will you allow us to take your fingerprints?
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Yes. Good. In point of fact, the club had been carefully wiped long ago. There was no trace of a fingerprint on It Inspector Green knew that, and Sandcit knew it too, while Sanguine did not know was that Green had another reason for wanting those fingerprints. No sooner had they been given than a photograph of them was on its way to the headquarters of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. From Canadian fingerprint records came a radio message. In reply,
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August Sangre. Four times convicted in 12 years for crimes of violence. Last offense, September 14, 1938, threatening to shoot a woman.
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And so Sancret was taken to the dell in the woods on Hankley Common. By now it was winter and the trees stood bare. The frozen earth rang under his infantry boot. His face showed no expression as he was taken along the woodland path. His step was sure and he seemed confident that he could make no mistake.
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Now, Sangrith, you see this wigwam?
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Yes.
D
You made it?
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Yes.
D
You lived in it with Joan Wolf?
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Yes.
D
This cooking fire, she made food for you?
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Yes.
D
And this picture cut in the wood, she made this?
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Yes.
D
Our little grey home in the West. You lived here happily?
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Yes.
D
You never had a quarrel?
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No.
D
No quarrel. Always peace?
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Yes.
D
You see that path over there, Sangre?
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Yes.
D
If you follow it for 30 yards, you'll come to a clump of bushes just there. We found her body. Or at least all that remained of her body. We believe that she ran down that path. She ran in terror. Somebody had stabbed her. She was trying to escape from him. The man who stabbed her hunted her down that path. He caught up with her by those bushes. He hit her with his club again and again. She stumbled down among those thorn shrubs. He went on beating her until she was dead. Come on down there. I'll show you where it happened.
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No, that way. No good. That way. We never go. No good to go down that way. Are you afraid? Afraid of no man.
D
What are you afraid of?
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Ghosts. No good to go down that way. You go. I wait here. He stood rigid and stubborn at the top of the murder path. Nor could he be persuaded to walk that way.
D
All right, Hodges. I think we've got enough now. I'm going to apply for a warrant.
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And so, a few weeks later, Sanquit stood in the dock at Surrey Assizes into the murder of Joan Pearl Wolf. Listen to me, sir.
D
Handwritten in pencil on the side of
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this crude wigwam were these words, in the midst of all thy glory, cast a look of pity upon all who are suffering against life difficulties, separated from those they love, the lonely and the friendless. Did you write those words? No. Did Joan Per Wolf write them?
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You cannot write, can you, Sangre?
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No. But those words were read to you? Yes. Why were those words written?
D
Because you'd quarrel with this girl.
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He stood in the dock, still inscrutable, stubborn. He alone knew the secret of what had happened in the woods back Enscon yard. There are no real secrets. One by one, the experts went into the dock. Simpson, the pathologist, Phil, the fingerprint expert and Green of the murder squad. Together they built up the story of how this strange 28 year old Wiseman had met this 19 year old convent educated girl. How they lived together in the woods and how they had quarreled. From a tiny crucifix, a footprint and a piece of bone. They built up that awful picture. The hunter pursuing the girls with a sheltering trees. A skirt caught in a thorn bush, stumbling feet and then his merciless attack. It used all the skill of generations upon generations of hunters to conceal his deadly work. But that skill had not been enough. And so he stood there in the dark, watching the jury as they filed back to give their verdict. Gentlemen of the jury, have you considered your verdict?
D
We have.
B
And do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?
D
Guilty.
B
He did not flinch when he heard the verdict. He looked straight ahead. What went on in his mind? Was he thinking of some words the gullet said to him one afternoon, nine long months ago? We learn of these words from the Canadian military policeman who had given evidence. He had come to their wigwam in the woods in order to collect Sandfit and bring him back to camp. Firmly but politely, he had ordered the girl to leave. He had then said.
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Goodbye. August. Remember the burning wood, Our fire. And the loveliest smell in the world. I'll never get our little home in the west.
B
And so Sancret had gone back to camp. But one evening he had returned to his home in the woods. And to the blonde girl with the short bobbed hair. Perhaps it was late night. Maybe they talked and quarrel.
C
Come here. Don't let quarrel. I promise you I'll never go away. Auguste. What are you doing with that? What are you doing with that knife? Now, now, don't be serious. August. Get away. What are you going to do? August, Put down that knife. Please. Please don't follow me. Leave me.
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Let me go.
C
I'll go away. No. No. Oh God. Please. Please don'. In court,
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August Sangre, the jury found
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you guilty of this terrible crime. And the sentence of the law which I have to pronounce upon you according to the statute is this. That you, August Sangret, be taken to
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the place from foot gate and that
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from thence you be taken to a place of execution, and that you be hanged by the neck until you be dead. And may God of his infinite mercy
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have compassion on your soul.
B
So ends the story of August Sandra. Next time you read in your newspaper of a criminal being hunted by the police, don't think of the criminal, think of the victim and spare your pity for him. Well, that's all for now. I'll be joining you again soon to tell you some more of the Secrets of Scotland Yard. Until then, this is Clive Brook saying goodbye and pleasant dream. The Secrets of Scotland Yard is distributed by the center for Telecommunication Services, the University of Texas at Austin. By special arrangement with the Overseas Programming Companies limited. This is the Longhorn Radio Network.
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Podcast: Harold's Old Time Radio
Host: Clive Brook (as narrator)
Date: July 29, 2026
Golden Age Radio Series: Case of the Hunted Hunter
In this dark and engrossing episode of Secrets of Scotland Yard, Clive Brook narrates the real-life murder case later known as "The Hunted Hunter." Set against the backdrop of World War II England, the story unravels the investigation into the brutal murder of a young woman, Joan Pearl Wolf, whose body is discovered by soldiers during a wartime exercise. The episode traces the meticulous police work and expert analyses that led to the capture and conviction of her killer, a Canadian soldier of Cree heritage named Auguste Sangret.
Opening advice (Host, 0:39):
“Whenever public attention is focused on the flight of a notorious criminal, some people admit to some sympathy for the hunted. My advice is don’t waste your tears.”
Wigwam Discovery (08:02, Expert):
“Work of a Cree Indian.”
“What in heaven’s name was he doing on Hankley Common?” (Inspector Green)
Pathologist’s Clue (05:37, Dr. Simpson):
“The hair belongs to a woman, or rather a girl in her late teens, naturally blonde hair, dyed brown and bleached again. I should say it was worn in some short hairstyle. Probably a problem.”
Suspect’s Silence (13:33, Interrogation):
Emotional Climax (20:44):
Closing Moral (27:00, Host):
“Next time you read in your newspaper of a criminal being hunted by the police, don't think of the criminal, think of the victim and spare your pity for him.”
Hunted Hunter is a classic story of crime and detection from the golden age of radio, exemplifying the careful, methodical work of Scotland Yard amid a time of national turmoil. It is a tale of lost love, violence, and the inexorable pursuit of justice—reminding listeners that beneath the headlines of hunted criminals lie the often-forgotten victims and the dedicated police who seek the truth.