
Sherlock Holmes - The Man With The Twisted Lip
Loading summary
Narrator
Dinner time. It's more than just a meal. It's when work comes to a halt, where macaroni masterpieces are made and little moments turn into lasting memories. With the Blue Cash Preferred card, you can get 6% cash back at US supermarkets. So you can bring home the flavors that bring everyone together. We did say everyone. Make the special moments even more rewarding. Learn more@americanexpress.com Explore BCP terms and cash Back cap. Apply with Blue Cash preferred.
Dr. John Watson
What a weary day. Still, I suppose I shouldn't complain. Patients are the lifeblood of the medical profession.
Mary Watson
Oh, James.
Dr. John Watson
Well, Mary, my love, I must retire to bed. Oh, who can it be at this hour?
Mary Watson
A patient. You'll have to go out.
Dr. John Watson
Will someone see to the door?
Mary Watson
I insist.
Kate Whitney
You will excuse my calling so late. I'm in such trouble. I do so want a little help.
Isaac Whitney
What?
Mary Watson
It's Kate. With me. How you startled me. Kate. I had no idea who you were when you came in.
Kate Whitney
I didn't know what to do, so I came straight to you.
Mary Watson
It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine and water and sit here comfortably and tell us about it. Or should you rather that I sent James off to bed?
Kate Whitney
Oh, no, no. I want the doctor's advice and help, too. It's about Isa. He's not been home for two days. I'm so frightened about him.
Mary Watson
Come along. I'm sure he'll return.
Dr. John Watson
Isa. Whitney. Poor woman. To have such a husband. A man wholly addicted to opium. I remember the last time I saw him. Yellow, pasty face, drooping lids and pinpoint pupils huddled in a chair. A wreck and ruin of a noble man.
Mary Watson
James. James.
Dr. John Watson
Yes, my love?
Mary Watson
We must help find Isa.
Dr. John Watson
Yes. Yes, of course. Now, Kate, have you any idea where he might be? Has he fallen prey to his old habit?
Kate Whitney
I fear he has. He's been gone for almost two days. I have prayed and begged for his deliverance, but he cannot shake off the spell. In recent months, he's confined his. His indulgence to a day and has come back in the evening. He says little and sits in his chair, pale and twitching. But this time he has not returned. Oh, Mary, what am I to do? Oh, Kate.
Mary Watson
Kate, we will find him.
Dr. John Watson
Where does he go to find.
Kate Whitney
I am almost sure he's gone to the Bar of Gold in Upper Swandam Lane. It's. It's an opium den on the farthest east of the city. I would have gone myself, but I fit it.
Dr. John Watson
My dear girl, there's no question of you going to such a place. I will go now and if he's there, I will bring him back within two hours. Now don't distress yourself any further. Well, so much for my armchair and cheery sitting room. Still, she is a friend of my wife's and I am Isaac Whitney's medical advisor. So let's hope he takes my advice. Lord knows what the cabman thinks of me. Charging off to Swandam Lane at the dead of night. What a vile place this is. Dark, unwholesome, high warehouses punctured by sightless windows. The smell of poverty and disease. That London should have such places. It is a disgrace. Ah, this must be it. Between a slop shop and a gin shop. Cabbie, stop here.
Isaac Whitney
Right.
Dr. John Watson
Roger. Cabby. I want you to wait here.
Cabman
Very good, sir. If you're looking for the bar of gold, sir, it's just down there.
Dr. John Watson
What? Oh, yes. Thank you. Lord, I can't see a thing. Just a flight of uneven steps leading down to a black hole like the mouth of a cave. Well, down we go. Abandon hope all ye who enter here. Oh, must be careful. Those steps are worn, no doubt by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet. There's an oil lamp. That must be the door. Well, I'll just open the lurch. Ah, the stench of opium. How can I find Isa here? The room seems to go on forever like a tunnel. He must be here somewhere, in one of these wooden berths stacked to the ceiling. But I can barely see through this choking brown opium smoke. Each berth has its own body, like some grub. Inert bowed shoulders, bent knees, dark dead eyes. Each one lit by a red circle of light, now bright, now faint opium. The burning poison waxing and waning in their pipes. Oh God, I must find Isa and get out of this place. No point asking any of this lot. Perhaps that old man sitting by the brazier at the far end. There's a little more light there at any rate.
Cabman
Would a gentleman care for a pipe? Very best wanted, eh?
Dr. John Watson
No, no, I don't want a pipe, thank you. I have not come to stay. I believe there's a friend of mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him.
Cabman
Isa Whitney?
Isaac Whitney
Watson?
Mary Watson
Is that you, Watson?
Dr. John Watson
Ay, sir. Thank goodness. Are you all right?
Sherlock Holmes
Tell me, Watson, what o'clock is it?
Dr. John Watson
Nearly 11.
Sherlock Holmes
Of what day?
Dr. John Watson
Friday, June 19th.
Sherlock Holmes
Oh, good heavens, I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What do you want to frighten the chap for?
Dr. John Watson
I tell you it is Friday, ma'am. Your wife has been waiting these two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Sherlock Holmes
So I am. But you've got it mixed, Watson, for I have only been here for a few hours. Three pipes, four pipes, I forget how many. But I will go home with you. I wouldn't frighten Kate. Poor little Kate. Give me your hand.
Cabman
Have your cab?
Dr. John Watson
Yes, I have one waiting.
Sherlock Holmes
Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find out what I owe. Watson. I am all of color. I can do nothing for myself.
Dr. John Watson
Right, yeah, up you get. Mind the brazier. There we go.
Isaac Whitney
Walk past me and then look back at me.
Dr. John Watson
What? Someone spoke, I'm sure of it. Could it have been that old man sitting by the brazier? No, surely not. He's drowned in opium. Such an old man, so thin and bent with age. How long has he been there? Pipe dangling down between his knees. It could not have been him. Holmes.
Isaac Whitney
Sh.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
Holmes.
Dr. John Watson
What on earth are you doing in this den?
Isaac Whitney
As low as you can. I have excellent ears. If you would get rid of that sottish friend of yours, I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you. I have a cab outside. Then pray send him home. In it you may safely trust him, for he appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that you've thrown in your lot with me. If you'll wait outside, I shall be with you in five minutes.
Dr. John Watson
Very well.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
Holmes.
Dr. John Watson
What a disguise. Incredible. Right, let's get you home, Isa. And then an adventure.
Narrator
Dinner time. It's more than just a meal. It's when work comes to a halt, where macaroni masterpieces are made and little moments turn into lasting memories. With the Blue Cash preferred card you can get 6% cash back at US supermarkets. So you can bring home the flavors that bring everyone together. We did say everyone make the special moments even more rewarding. Learn more@American Express.com Explore BCP terms and cashback cap apply with Blue Cash preferred.
Cabman
There.
Dr. John Watson
I hope Kate is pleased to have him back. Now, where is Holmes? Ah, there is the decrepit and ancient Holmes shuffling towards me. Just go round this corner. Then all should be safe for him.
Isaac Whitney
I suppose, Watson, that you imagine that I have added opium smoking to cocaine injection and all the other little weaknesses on which you have favored me with your medical views.
Dr. John Watson
I was certainly surprised to find you there.
Isaac Whitney
But not more so than I to find you.
Dr. John Watson
I came to find a friend.
Isaac Whitney
And I to find an enemy.
Dr. John Watson
An enemy?
Isaac Whitney
Yes, one of my natural enemies. Or shall I say my natural prey. Briefly Watson, I'm in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry and I hope to find a clue in the Inca and ramblings of these sots as I have done before. Now had I been recognized in that den my life would not have been worth an hour's purchase. There is a trap door at the back of that building near the corner of Paul's Wharf which could tell some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless nights.
Kate Whitney
What?
Dr. John Watson
You do not mean bodies?
Isaac Whitney
Ay, bodies Watson. We should be rich men if we had £1,000 for every poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest murder trap on the whole riverside and I fear Neville St. Clair has walked into it never to walk out of it more. But our dog cart should be here.
Dr. John Watson
If I can be of use.
Isaac Whitney
Oh a trusty comrade is always of use. And a chronicler still more. My room at the Cedars is a double bedded one.
Dr. John Watson
The Cedars?
Isaac Whitney
Yes, that is Mr. Sinclair's house. I'm staying there while I conduct the inquiry.
Dr. John Watson
Where is it then?
Isaac Whitney
Near Lee in Kent. We have a seven mile drive ahead of us.
Dr. John Watson
But I'm all in the dark.
Isaac Whitney
Of course you are. You know all about it. Presently. Jump up here. All right John, we shall not need you. Here's Harper Crown. Look out for me tomorrow about 11. Very good sir. So long then.
Cabman
Come on boy.
Dr. John Watson
What is all this about? Holmes is wrapped up in his thoughts and has given nothing away. Good Lord it's cold on this card. To think I could be asleep in a warm bed with the woman I love.
Isaac Whitney
I must be mad. You have a grand gift of silence Watson. It makes you quite invaluable as a companion. On my word it's a great thing for me to have someone to talk to. My own thoughts are not ever pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little woman tonight when she meets me at the door.
Dr. John Watson
You will forget that I know nothing about it.
Isaac Whitney
I shall tell you the facts of the case before we get to leave. It seems absurdly simple and yet somehow I can get nothing to go upon. Now I'll state the case clearly and concisely to you Watson and maybe you can see a spark where all is dark to me.
Dr. John Watson
Proceed then.
Isaac Whitney
Some years ago to be definite in May 1884 there came to Lee a gentleman, Neville Sinclair by name, who appeared to have plenty of money, took a large villa and lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends and in 1887. He married the daughter of a local brewer by whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was interested in several companies and went into town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon street every night. Mr. Sinclair is now 37 years of age, is a man of temperate habits and a good father. Walk on. Walk on. I may add that his whole debts at the present moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to 88 pounds and 10 shillings. While he has 220 pounds sterling standing to his credit in the Capital and Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money troubles have been weighing on his mind. Last Monday, Mr. Sinclair went into town rather earlier than usual, stating that he had two important commissions to perform and that he would bring his little boy a box of bricks home. Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a telegram on the same to the effect that a small parcel of considerable value had arrived for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Sent to her by an uncle in Edinburgh. Now, if you are well up on your London, you will know that the office of this company is in Fresno street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where you found me tonight. Mrs. Sinclair collected her packet and found herself at exactly 4:35. Walking through Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you followed me so far? It is very clear, if you remember. Monday was an exceedingly hot day. And Mrs. Sinclair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab as she did not like the neighborhood in which she found herself. While she was walking in this way down Swandon Lane, she suddenly heard an ejaculation or cry and was struck cold to see her husband looking down at her. His face was terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her and then vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that he'd been plucked by some irresistible force from behind. One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat, he had on neither collar nor necktie. She rushed up the steps of the building which was none other than that which houses the open den in its cellar where we met tonight.
Mary Watson
Let me in. My husband's in there.
Kate Whitney
What have you done to him?
Lascar
What is all this noise? There is no need for such commotion.
Mary Watson
My husband is in danger. I know he is. Let me pass.
Lascar
There is no one here. We are close. No one is here.
Mary Watson
Let me in. I must see my husband.
Lascar
The bar of gold is not open. You cannot come in.
Mary Watson
I'll get a policeman. I'll get help.
Isaac Whitney
Oh. Oh, thank God.
Kate Whitney
Oh.
Mary Watson
Constable. Constable, please. Please wait. Constable. Constable.
Constable
No, madam, it's all right. What seems to be the matter?
Mary Watson
It's my husband. He's in there.
Kate Whitney
Back there.
Isaac Whitney
They've taken him.
Dr. John Watson
What?
Mary Watson
Come on. Please, you must help.
Isaac Whitney
Very well.
Constable
Lead the way, madam. Oh, the bar of gold. Right, we'll get him out if he's inside. Open up. I'm a police officer.
Isaac Whitney
Oh.
Lascar
What can I do for you, sir?
Constable
I've reason to believe that you are detaining this good lady's husband.
Lascar
There is no one here, sir. You are most welcome to come and look.
Dr. John Watson
Right.
Constable
So you're quite sure no one else has been in this room this afternoon?
Lascar
Yes, sir, only myself and Hugh Boone.
Constable
I see. And what about the cripple? He's not dumb as well, is he?
Lascar
Oh, no, sir. He can talk, but he has seen no one.
Constable
Has anyone been up here?
Cabman
Boone?
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
No, sir, no one but me and him.
Isaac Whitney
Right.
Constable
Well, madam, I'm terribly sorry, but I.
Mary Watson
Know he was here. I saw him. He's in the most terrible danger. I know it.
Constable
Well, madam, perhaps you're a little overawed. It's been a hot day.
Dr. John Watson
Perhaps you only thought you saw him.
Mary Watson
I did see him.
Lascar
Would madam like a glass of water? It is such a hot day.
Isaac Whitney
Look. Look here.
Mary Watson
Look. These are the bricks my husband said he was going to buy for our children. He was here.
Constable
Well, this puts a different complexion on the matter. What do you say now, Lasker?
Lascar
I have no idea. I. I never saw them before in my life.
Constable
Right, then I'll search every inch of this place. Then both of you can come down to the station.
Isaac Whitney
Teddy.
Dr. John Watson
Boys.
Isaac Whitney
Teddy. Damned. I needn't hear. Watson.
Dr. John Watson
Hold on.
Isaac Whitney
The rooms were carefully examined and the results all pointed to an abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting room and led into a small bedroom which look out upon the back of one of the walls. Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip of mud which is dry at low tide but is covered with water at high tide with at least four feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one and open from below. On examination, traces of blood would have been seen upon the windowsill and several scatter drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom. Steady thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville Sinclair with the exception of his coat, his boots, his socks, his hat, his watch, all were there. There were no signs of violence upon any of these garments. And there were no other traces of Mr. Neville Sinclair out of the window he apparently must have gone, for no other exit could be discovered. And the ominous blood stains upon the window sill Gave little promise that he could save himself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of the tragedy. And now to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in the matter. Alaska was known to be a man of the vilest antecedents. But as by Mrs. Claire's story, he was known to have been at the foot of the stair Within a very few seconds of her husband's appearance at the upper window. He could hardly be more accessory to the crime. His defense is one of absolute ignorance. And he protested that he had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing gentleman's clothes. So much for the lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of this building and who was certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville Sinclair. His name is Hugh Boone and his hideous face is one which is familiar to every man who goes much into the city. He is a professional beggar, Though in order to avoid the police regulations, he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas down threadneedle street upon the left hand side there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall. Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat. Seat cross legged, with his tiny stock of matches on his lap. And as he is a pity, a spectacle, a small rain of charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies on the pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow more than once Before I ever thought of making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the harvest which he had reaped. His appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him without observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face, to say by a horrible scar which by its contraction has turned up the outer edge of his upper lip. A bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes which present a singular contrast to the colour of his hair. All this marks him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants, and so too does his wit. For he is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chat which may be thrown at him by a passerby. This is our suspect.
Dr. John Watson
But a cripple? What could he have done single handed against a man in the prime of life?
Isaac Whitney
He's a cripple in the Sense that he walks with a limp but in other respects he appears to be a powerful and well nurtured man. Surely your medical expertise would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional strength in the others.
Dr. John Watson
Pray continue your narrative.
Isaac Whitney
Mrs. Sinclair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the windowsill and she was escorted home in a cab, the policeman having called her for some assistance for the lady. One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly as he was allowed some few minutes in which he might have communicated with his friend Alaska. But this thought was soon remedied. The policeman returned and conducted a very thorough search. Right.
Constable
What about this blood then, eh?
Lascar
Please, I have no idea how it comes through.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
It's my blood. I cut my finger, see?
Constable
Well what about these clothes then?
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
Never seen him before.
Isaac Whitney
Lasker?
Lascar
No, I. I don't know how they.
Constable
Ah, very convenient. And how do you suppose the lady saw her husband at the window?
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
He must have been dreaming or.
Cabman
Barney.
Constable
I don't have to listen to you.
Isaac Whitney
You're off to the station.
Dr. John Watson
Come on.
Isaac Whitney
Come on boy. Not far now. Despite his protestations this creature was arrested and is now at the police station. The officer returned and continued his search. He hoped that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue. And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud what they feared to find. It was Neville Sinclair's coat and not Neville Sinclair which lay uncovered as the tide of seated. And what do you think they found in his pockets?
Dr. John Watson
I cannot imagine.
Isaac Whitney
No, I didn't think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with pennies. And the Hitneys. 421 pennies and 270 Hitneys. Good Lord. It was no wonder it had not been swept away by the tide. But a human body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked away into the river.
Dr. John Watson
But I understood that all the other clothes were found in the room. Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?
Isaac Whitney
No sir. But suppose that this man Boone had thrust Neville Sinclair through the window. There is no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would you do then? It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the telltale garments. He would seize the coat and be merely throwing it out when it would occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He has little time for he has heard the scuffling downstairs. There is not instant to be lost. He rushes to some Secret hoard where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary and stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets and only has time to close the window when the policeman is.
Dr. John Watson
It certainly sounds feasible.
Isaac Whitney
Well we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better one but I must confess I cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at first glance so simple and yet presented such difficulties. Ah, we're almost there. Now we shall meet Mrs. Sinclair. I do hate to meet her Watson, when I have no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa there. Whoa.
Dr. John Watson
Ah, that must be Mrs. St. Clair. She must be in great distress. What a comely woman. Poor creature. I pray Holmes can shed some light on all this.
Mary Watson
Well? Well. No good news?
Isaac Whitney
No.
Mary Watson
No bad?
Isaac Whitney
No.
Mary Watson
Thank God for that. But come in. You must be wary for you've had a long day.
Isaac Whitney
Thank you. This is my friend Dr. Watson. He's been most vital to me in several of my cases and I am fortunate he could accompany me tonight.
Mary Watson
I am delighted to see you. You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our arrangements when you consider the blow that has come so suddenly upon us.
Dr. John Watson
My dear madam, I am an old campaigner. No apology is needed. I am happy to be of service.
Mary Watson
Thank you. Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions to which I beg that you will give a plain answer.
Isaac Whitney
Certainly madam.
Mary Watson
Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not a st nor given to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion.
Isaac Whitney
Upon what point in your heart of.
Mary Watson
Hearts do you think Neville is alive?
Isaac Whitney
Well I frankly. Now frankly. Then madam, I do not.
Mary Watson
You think that he is dead?
Isaac Whitney
I do.
Mary Watson
Murdered?
Isaac Whitney
I don't say so. Perhaps.
Mary Watson
And on what day did he meet his death?
Isaac Whitney
On Monday.
Mary Watson
Then perhaps Mr. Holmes you will be good enough to explain how it is that I have received a letter from him to what? Yes, today.
Isaac Whitney
May I see it?
Mary Watson
Certainly, of course.
Isaac Whitney
Writing on the envelope. Surely this is not your husband's hand, madam?
Mary Watson
No, but the enclosure is.
Isaac Whitney
I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go and inquire as to the address.
Mary Watson
How can you tell that?
Isaac Whitney
The name you see is in perfectly black ink which has dried itself. The rest is of the grayish color which shows that blotting paper has been used. If it had been written straight off and then blotted none would have been of a deep black shade. This man has written the name and there has been a pause before he wrote the Address, which can only mean that he was not familiar with it. It is of course a trifle but there is nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. There's been an enclosure here.
Mary Watson
Yes, there was a ring, his signet ring.
Isaac Whitney
Are you sure that this is your husband's hand?
Mary Watson
One of his hands.
Isaac Whitney
One.
Mary Watson
His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual writing and yet I know it well. Dearest, do not be frightened. All will be well. There is a huge error which it may take some time to rectify. Wait in patience, Neville.
Isaac Whitney
Written in pencil on the fly leaf of a book, octavo size, no watermark. Posted today in Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ah, and the flap has been gummed, if I'm not very much in error, by a person who had been chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that this is your husband's hand, madam?
Mary Watson
None. Neville wrote those words.
Isaac Whitney
Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the clouds lighten. Though I should not venture to say the danger is over.
Mary Watson
But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes.
Isaac Whitney
Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. The ring, after all proves nothing. It may have been taken from him.
Mary Watson
No, no, but it is his very own writing.
Isaac Whitney
Very well. It may, however have been written on Monday and only posted today.
Mary Watson
That is possible.
Isaac Whitney
If so much may have happened between.
Mary Watson
You must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him last. He cut himself in the bedroom and yet I in the dining room rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that something had happened. Do you think I would respond to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?
Isaac Whitney
I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. But if your husband is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain? From you?
Mary Watson
I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable.
Isaac Whitney
Mrs. Sinclair, cast your mind back when you saw your husband with the window open.
Mary Watson
Yes.
Isaac Whitney
That he might have called to you?
Mary Watson
He might. But he only.
Isaac Whitney
Yes? Gave an inarticulate cry. A call for help as you thought?
Mary Watson
Yes.
Isaac Whitney
But it might have been a cry of surprise, astonishment at seeing you. And you thought he was pulled back. He disappeared so suddenly he might have leapt back. You did not see anyone else in the room?
Mary Watson
No. But the horrible beggar man confessed to.
Isaac Whitney
Having been there and he was without his collar or tie.
Mary Watson
Yes. I distinctly saw his bare throat.
Isaac Whitney
Thank you Mrs. Sinclair. Those are the principal points about which I wish to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little supper and then retire for we may have a busy day tomorrow.
Dr. John Watson
Right Holmes. I'm going to get some sleep. I've got to get some rest before tomorrow.
Isaac Whitney
Good night my dear Watson.
Dr. John Watson
Oh, I see Holmes is in for a night's thinking. What's he doing now? Collecting all the pillows from his bed and all the cushions from the sofa and the armchairs. Now he's arranging them into some sort of Eastern divan. Looks like a pasha sitting cross legged in that great blue silk dressing gown of his. Ah, and he's laid out an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches in front of him. He'll be there all night in a cloud of pipe smoke. All night long till he.
Isaac Whitney
Awake. Watson?
Dr. John Watson
Yes.
Isaac Whitney
Game for a morning drive?
Dr. John Watson
Certainly.
Isaac Whitney
And dress, no one is staring.
Dr. John Watson
What time is it? 25 minutes past 4. I'm not surprised no one's stirring.
Isaac Whitney
Come on Watson, ready yourself.
Dr. John Watson
Nearly their homes I think.
Isaac Whitney
Watson you are standing in the presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from here to Charing Cross but I think I have the key to the affair now.
Dr. John Watson
And where is it?
Isaac Whitney
In the bathroom. Oh yes. I'm not joking. I have just been there and I have taken it out and I have got it in this Gladstone bag. Come on my boy and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock. Now come on, we must be at Bow street station before 7 o'clock. It has been in some points a singular case. I confess I have been as blind as a mole. But it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all.
Dr. John Watson
Oh yes. I wish Holmes wasn't so mysterious. And I do wish he wouldn't go quite so fast.
Isaac Whitney
Who is on duty?
Constable
Inspector Bradstreet, sir. Oh, there he is sir.
Isaac Whitney
Ah, Bradstreet, how are you? I wish I had a quiet word with you, Bradstreet.
Cabman
Certainly Mr. Holmes. Step into my room here.
Dr. John Watson
Okay.
Cabman
What can I do for you, Mr. Hobbs?
Isaac Whitney
I've called about that beggar man, Boone. Oh yeah, the one who was charged with being concerned at the disappearance of Mr. Neville Sinclair.
Cabman
Yeah, he was brought up and remanded for further inquiries.
Isaac Whitney
So I heard. You have him here in the cells. Is he quiet?
Cabman
Oh he gives no trouble but he's a dirty scoundrel.
Isaac Whitney
Dirty?
Cabman
Yeah, it's all we can do to make him wash his hands and his face. Is as black as a kinker's. Well, once his case has been settled he'll have a regular prison bath. And I think if you saw him you would agree with me that he needed it.
Isaac Whitney
I should like to see him very much. Would you?
Cabman
Oh, that's easily done. Come this way. You, you can leave your bag.
Isaac Whitney
No, I think that I'll take it.
Cabman
Very good. Come this way if you please. The third on the right it is. Here we are. Yeah, he's asleep. You can see him very well. He's a beauty, isn't he?
Isaac Whitney
He certainly needs a wash. I had an idea that he might and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me.
Cabman
A sponge, sir? Oh, you're a funny one.
Isaac Whitney
Now if you will have the great goodness to open the door very quietly we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure.
Cabman
Well I don't know why not. He doesn't look a credit to the Bow street so does he.
Isaac Whitney
Let me introduce you to Mr. Nevillon, Claire of Lee and the county of Kent. Only this horrid orange wig remains.
Cabman
Voila.
Dr. John Watson
Good God, Holmes.
Cabman
Great heavens, it is indeed the missing man. Pale refined looking chap with black hair. I know him from the photograph.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
Be it so, and pray, what am I charged with?
Cabman
With making away with Mr. Neville. How come? You can't be charged with that. Unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it. I've been 27 years in the force but this really takes the cake.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
If I am Mr. Neville Sinclair then it is obvious that no crime has been committed and that therefore I am illegally detained.
Isaac Whitney
No crime, but a very great error has been committed. You would have done better to have trusted your wife.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
It wasn't the wife, it was the children. God help me, I wouldn't have them ashamed of their father. What an exposure. What can I do?
Isaac Whitney
If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up? Of course you can hardly avoid publicity. I, on the other hand, if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible case against you. I do not know that there is any reason that the details should find their way into the papers. Inspector Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. God bless you.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
I would have endured imprisonment, aye, even execution rather than have left my miserable secret as a family blot to my children.
Isaac Whitney
They need know nothing. But only if you tell your story now and swear never to resurrect Hugh Boone, the notorious beggar, willingly.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
In brief then, my Story is this. I was a journalist. I was sent to write a story on begging in the metropolis. It was only by trying to beg that I could get the facts upon which to base my article. I was also once an actor and had learned all the secrets of makeup. I was famous in the green room for my skill. I painted my face and to make myself look as pitiable as possible I made a good scar. Then, with a red head of hair and an appropriate costume I took my station in the busiest part of the city. For seven hours I plied my trade and when I returned home the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no less than 26 shillings and fourpence. I read my articles and thought little more of the matter until sometime later I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ served on me for £25. I was at my wit's end where to get the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight's grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers and spent the time begging in the city under my disguise. In 10 days I had the money and paid the debt. Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work at two pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground and sitting still. It was a long fight between my pride and the money, but the dollars won at last and I threw up reporting and sat day after day filling my pockets with coppers. It was a terrible secret I was never to share with my wife. When she saw me at the window I thought all was lost. I just had time to apply my makeup and throw my coat weighted with coins, into the river. In the course of of hurriedly opening the window I reopened a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning. I was quite relieved when the police arrived that I was arrested for the murder of Neville Sinclair and not revealed of the man himself.
Cabman
Well, sir, I think you've wasted quite enough of our time over the last week. If the police are to overlook all this, we must hear no more of Hugh Boone, the beggar.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take.
Cabman
Ah, in that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be taken. But if you are found again then all must come out, I'm sure. Mr. Holmes, we are all very much indebted to you for having cleared the matter up.
Sherlock Holmes (disguised)
I wish I knew how you reach your results.
Isaac Whitney
I reached this one by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shack. I think, Watson, that if we drive to Baker street, we shall just be in time for breakfast. Oh, good sa.
Summary of "Sherlock Holmes - The Man With The Twisted Lip"
Podcast: Harold's Old Time Radio
Host/Author: Harold's Old Time Radio
Episode: Sherlock Holmes - The Man With The Twisted Lip
Release Date: March 18, 2025
In this captivating episode of Harold's Old Time Radio, listeners are transported back to the Golden Age of Radio, where families gathered around the radio to immerse themselves in thrilling tales. This adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle's classic mystery, "The Man With The Twisted Lip," presents a compelling narrative featuring Dr. John Watson and a surprising twist involving Sherlock Holmes. The episode masterfully blends suspense, character development, and intricate plotting, staying true to the essence of the original story while introducing unique elements that enhance the listening experience.
The story commences on a weary evening where Dr. John Watson expresses his exhaustion:
“What a weary day. Still, I suppose I shouldn't complain. Patients are the lifeblood of the medical profession.” (00:40) Although tired, Watson's dedication to his medical practice is evident. His wife, Mary Watson, gently interrupts his rest when Kate Whitney arrives seeking help for her missing husband, Isaac Whitney.
Kate reveals that Isaac, a man battling opium addiction, has disappeared after frequenting the Bar of Gold, an opium den located in the desolate East End of London. Watson, moved by Kate's distress, vows to find Isaac. His internal monologue reveals his disdain for the grim surroundings:
“What a vile place this is. Dark, unwholesome, high warehouses punctured by sightless windows. The smell of poverty and disease. That London should have such places. It is a disgrace.” (03:13)
Watson ventures into the opium den, navigating through the suffocating atmosphere and dense opium smoke. His search is interrupted by a mysterious cabman, who soon introduces a surprising character – Isaac Whitney, now appearing as Sherlock Holmes in disguise. This revelation comes as Holmes reveals his alter ego:
“Sherlock Holmes: Tell me, Watson, what o'clock is it?” (07:09)
“Sherlock Holmes: I am all of color. I can do nothing for myself.” (08:27)
Holmes, disguised as a beggar named Hugh Boone, confounds authority figures and complicates Watson's mission. The plot thickens as Isaac Whitney accuses Holmes of complicity in Neville Sinclair's mysterious disappearance.
Isaac Whitney presents a detailed account of Neville Sinclair's disappearance, suspecting foul play involving a beggar named Hugh Boone. He describes Sinclair's last known movements and the peculiarities surrounding his case, highlighting inconsistencies that raise suspicions: “Isaac Whitney: Mrs. Sinclair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the windowsill...” (12:24)
Watson and Isaac delve into forensic observations and witness testimonies, meticulously reconstructing the events that led to Neville Sinclair's presumed death. Their investigation reveals that the cloak and coins found near the riverbank may hold the key to understanding the true nature of the crime.
As the investigation progresses, Isaac uncovers critical evidence, including the peculiar markings on Neville's coat and the suspicious behavior of Hugh Boone. The tension reaches its peak when Holmes, still in disguise, interacts with the police and the cabman, leading to a dramatic confrontation. Holmes' true identity and motives are unveiled through a heartfelt confession:
“Sherlock Holmes (disguised): My Story is this. I was a journalist... I threw up reporting and sat day after day filling my pockets with coppers... I reopened a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself...” (36:14)
Holmes explains his desperate measures to overcome debt, shedding light on his transformation into Hugh Boone. This twist not only resolves the mystery but also adds depth to Holmes' character, showcasing his vulnerability and resourcefulness.
Watson's Determination:
“We must help find Isa.” (02:13)
Watson's unwavering commitment sets the tone for the investigation.
Holmes' Disguise Revealed:
“I am all of color. I can do nothing for myself.” (08:27)
This line underscores Holmes' strategic infiltration into the opium den.
Isaac Whitney's Accusations:
“I believe there's a trap door at the back of that building...” (11:18)
Isaac's keen observations drive the investigation forward.
Holmes' Confession:
“I was a journalist... I was never to share with my wife...” (36:14)
This poignant moment humanizes Holmes, revealing his personal struggles.
The episode concludes with the successful exoneration of Holmes and the resolution of Neville Sinclair's case. Holmes' ingenuity and Holmes' ability to navigate complex social undercurrents are celebrated, reaffirming his status as a master detective. The collaboration between Watson and Isaac Whitney exemplifies the spirit of camaraderie and intellectual pursuit that defines Sherlock Holmes' adventures.
Listeners are left with a satisfying blend of mystery, drama, and character exploration, encapsulated within the rich auditory landscape characteristic of Harold's Old Time Radio. This episode not only honors the legacy of the original story but also introduces fresh elements that enhance its timeless appeal.
Note: This summary focuses solely on the narrative content, excluding advertisements, intros, outros, and non-content sections as per the instructions.