
Tales Of Antiquity - SA xx-xx-xx (x) Gone at the Fair
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A
New year, same extra value meals at McDonald's. So now get two snack wraps plus fries and a medium soft drink for just $8 for a limited time only. Prices and participation may vary. Prices may be higher in Hawaii, Alaska and California. And for delivery.
B
Ah, good afternoon. Come in, come in. Let me offer you a glass of sherry, a tail or two and perhaps one of my priceless antiques. Tales of antiquity. Stories of the romantic past captured through the eyes and ears of Eustace Glean collector extraordinary. His story for today, gone at the fair. There you are at your elbow. I trust it isn't too dry for you. Now, let me see. What can I show you today? Are you interested in personal jewelry? Cameos, for instance? Oh, take a look at these. This one in particular. It is the work of James Tasse in 1763. And a reproduction of an original Hellenic example of 350 BC. It was given to Mrs. Matilda Monkton on the occasion of her wedding in 1862 by her mother in law and later inherited by Mrs. Monkton's daughter under rather mysterious circumstances. Let me tell you their story. Quite an intrigue. The mountains had served their country in India since the days of Robert clive in the 1750s. It therefore followed that Sir Frederick Bunton's youngest son should likewise serve with the Indian army. After concluding his studies at Eton and Oxford, however, he had become acquainted with the pretty fair haired Matilda McKendrick. Their whirlwind romance was the talk of Oxfordshire and within a mere six months were married. After Sandhurst, Charles Monkton received his commission and was appointed to join his father's old regiment in the Punjab. Naturally, Matilda was to go with him. Charles Moncton was the only surviving male of his line, his father and two older brothers having died in the mutiny of the 1850s. His mother had returned to England in 1860 and died in her bed shortly after her only remaining son had left for India. She therefore never knew or saw her only grandchild, Valerie. Born In Lahore in 1860, the Monkton's Lives ran customary to those serving in the British Raj with all the social graces, summer retreats and so on, until 1887, when the dashing Charles Monkton died as his platoon was ambushed during a skirmish on the northwest frontier. Valerie was a beautiful young woman of 22 at this time and was longing to see something of her native Europe. Her mother, having nothing now to hold her in India, decided upon a short tour of the continent before settling down to find her daughter a suitable match in England. It was the year 1889. The year of the Great Paris Exhibition, Mrs. Bunton and her daughter had disembarked at Marseille and traveled by train to Paris, where they now secure two rooms at one of its most famous hotels.
C
Well, my dear, our travels are over for a while at least.
D
We shall only be in Paris for two weeks.
C
Mama, even a respite of two weeks is better than no respite at all.
E
Madame and mademoiselle have traveled far?
C
Extremely far, Monsieur. My daughter and I have recently returned to Europe from India.
D
A little under three months.
C
Mr. We are actually returning to England. But my daughter was positively obsessed with the thought of your great exposition. She simply refused to set foot out of France.
D
Mama, you exaggerate. Naturally, since our journey was to take us through Paris, it seemed a positive waste not to see us.
C
Be that as it may, do you.
D
Have rooms for us to see?
C
So sorry.
E
Audrey.
F
Madame.
E
Claude. Audrey, at your service. And Yes, I have two magnificent rooms overlooking the Boulevard Rechil A, number 342 for you, madame, and for your charming daughter, number 340. If I might trouble you to sign the register? Here you go. Escort the two ladies to their rooms. 340-34-2.
C
You're so kind. Oh. Oh dear.
D
What is it, Mama?
E
Madame is not well.
C
Oh, how very strange. I suddenly had the most extraordinary sensation. I went positively dizzy, as though I were about to collapse. Oh dear, I feel quite flushed.
E
The journey, I expect. Madame, once you have rested in your room, perhaps I might send off some refreshment.
C
I don't crab. Yes, yes, perhaps some tea. Oh dear, I really think I ought to lie down.
D
Come along, Mama. Let me take you away from my home.
E
The refreshments will be out directly.
B
Mother and daughter were shown their rooms on the third floor, which they stated would suit admirably. Mrs. Monkton's was by far the grander, with heavy curtains of plum coloured velvet, rose covered wallpaper, high backed sofa, oval satinwood table and ormolu clock. Valerie left her mother to sleep for a while, saying she would call for her in two hours. But the young lady had barely been in her room half an hour when there came a frantic scrabbling of the handle. She hurried to the door to see what could be amiss.
D
Valerie, almost unwell. You're positively burning. I must get you back to your bed. Must have. Yes, yes, yes, Mama. I shall go and fetch a doctor directly. But first you must get back.
B
The young woman struggled with her mother until the poor woman was once again in her own bed. Then she heard down to the reception to Find the manager.
D
Monsieur.
E
Ah, Mademoiselle Moncton. How was your room? It will suit.
B
And your mother?
D
My mother, monsieur, is most dreadfully sick. She has a high fever and complains pains in her head and throat.
E
You. We must call Dr. Cobber. Let me. You go. You go.
D
What is it, doctor?
F
Excuse me. Is he ordering?
C
What is it, Valerie? What does the doctor say?
D
Nothing at the moment. He is talking with a hotel manager. Is.
C
Is it? Here is to think. Can you not hear what they say?
D
They talk too softly, Mama.
C
Doctor.
D
What is it? What's wrong?
F
Madame, you must not excite yourself.
C
What is it?
F
I still know. And try to rest. You have pneumonia.
D
Pneumonia?
F
I urge you not to go excited. Fortunately, we catch the melody in time. But my medication. It is at my chambers, the other side of Paris. I dare not leave the patient. I wonder, mademoiselle, would you. Do you think you'd be so kind as to take a carriage?
D
Is there no one else? One of your porters, monsieur.
E
With the hotel full to capacity, there is no one I can spare.
F
It is most urgent, mademoiselle, that I remain here. If your mama does not have medication soon, I.
D
Very well, doctor.
F
I shall go.
D
If you will give me the address.
B
The girl set out for the doctor's surgery on the far side of Paris, taking the doctor's own carriage that seemed to simply drag its way across the city at an exasperatingly slow pace. After an agonized weight of the surgery, she had length made her way back to the hotel, which was no faster a journey than the one she'd made in the other direction. Four hours had elapsed from the time she set out until the time she returned to the hotel.
D
Monsieur Audrey. Comme vommere.
E
Pardon, mademoiselle.
D
My mother. I ask after my mother. Is she.
E
But, mademoiselle, I know nothing of your mother. You arrived here alone?
D
What are you saying? It was you who sent for Dr. Colbert.
E
Dr. Colbert? Oui. I know the good doctor. But why would I send for her?
D
Because my mother is sick, monsieur. You and Dr. Colbert were together in her room when the doctor examined her and asked me to go and fetch the medication from his rooms at Salma.
E
Mademoiselle, I have no idea, I assure you. You arrived here alone.
D
But this is unbelievable. Very well, monsieur. Look in your ledger. We registered here less than six hours ago. Look in the book.
E
Now, here we are on display. You see, mademoiselle, here is your signature.
D
And above it. My. Whose name is that? That name was not there When I. My mother signed her name immediately above my signature. We both signed. My mother was given room three four two. She's up there now.
E
Take me to her at once, Mademoiselle.
D
I insist that you take me to her, messieurs.
E
Oh, very well, mademoiselle. But I assure you we have a family from Boulogne. 3:43. Here you are, Mademoiselle.
D
This is not three four two.
E
Ma oui, Mademoiselle Lucy clearly on the door. Three four two.
D
But the. The plum colour curtains, the. The roses on the walls and. And the clock. Where are they? No, this is the wrong room. The room was pink roses and plum velvet curtains and. And not yellow, Monsieur.
E
Mademoiselle, this room has always been yellow. And see the luggage of the people.
D
I wish to see all the rooms in the hotel. I want to know what you have done with my mother.
B
It mattered not that Monsieur Ogilie protested his utter bewilderment at the young woman's claims, nor that he insisted that she had arrived at the hotel alone. For Valerie Monkton knew that she and her mother had arrived at the Hotel de VR Together and something dreadful had happened to her. Where had the odious Monsieur Audrey secreted her? And why? She had been shown every room in the hotel and still there was no sign of her mother. She was sitting for long in the foyer when she saw Dr. Colbert himself hurrying towards the exit.
D
Doctor. Dr. Colbert. A moment, if you please.
F
We. Mademoiselle.
D
My mother.
B
Your mother?
F
I don't think I felt the pleasure of meeting her.
D
But you treated her earlier today. You said she had pneumonia. You said I was to go to your rooms at Samoan to fetch medication for her. I even took your courage.
F
Sorry, Mademoiselle, I have not the faintest idea of what you are talking.
D
I am talking about my mother, sir. My mother. What have you done with her? Where is she? You and Monsieur Auduy have locked her away from me.
F
I do not have anything.
D
Doctor.
E
Can I assist you? Is something wrong? Oh, Mademoiselle, surely you are the police.
D
Speak to the British Ambassador. You are lying, both of you.
E
Come, Mademoiselle. You are unwell.
D
There is nothing wrong with me.
F
Perhaps I should help the young lady. Perhaps if she were to rest.
D
Don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me.
G
I'm exceedingly sorry, Miss Mountain. Rather, I really cannot believe that a reputable hotel like the Hotel de Village would deliberately and in broad daylight abduct your mother from her room.
D
She was sick, Sir Edward. The hotel Manager called in his doctor friend.
G
Yes, yes, yes, you told me all this. But how do you account for the difference in the. I mean, dash it all, young lady, how could anyone possibly entirely redecorate a room, not to mention fine new furniture and all in the space of four hours? It simply isn't feasible.
D
I know it sounds impossible, but I.
G
No, my dear. There's more to this than meets the eye.
D
That is entirely what I say, sir.
G
No, you misunderstand me. I mean more to your story.
D
But it isn't a story. It's the truth. I shall swear it on the Bible, if you so wish it.
G
My mother and I have heard enough, my dear, and frankly, I am not convinced. So if you will excuse me, I have some rather pressing appointments.
D
But, Sir Edward, I have no one else to turn to.
G
Try the gendarmerie.
D
I have already been to them. They don't believe me either.
G
Well, my dear, there it is. Good afternoon.
B
Valerie Monkton eventually returned to England, where she was certified as insane and lodged in a mental asylum.
D
I am not insane. I'm not. I am not insane. I'm not.
B
Of course, there is one possible explanation. Her mother had perhaps contracted plague whilst she and her daughter had crossed India. If the doctor had recognized this, he could well have conspired with the hotel manager to conceal the story, for it could well have wrecked the great exposition. However, there is one other point. Could they have redecorated the room? Three, four, two in four hours? And what had become of Mrs. Moncton's body? Well, I'm afraid the mystery would have to remain. Good afternoon. Do drop by again when you're passing. Oh, don't forget your cameo.
A
That was.
B
Tales of Antiquity, written and produced by Kenneth Handel.
Podcast: Harold's Old Time Radio
Episode: Tales Of Antiquity – “Gone at the Fair”
Date: January 29, 2026
Theme:
This episode presents a classic radio drama set in the Victorian era, narrated through the eyes of Eustace Glean, an eccentric collector. The story, "Gone at the Fair," weaves a chilling tale of mystery and possible conspiracy, inspired by real-life urban legends, surrounding the mysterious disappearance of a woman’s mother during the 1889 Paris Exhibition.
Matilda and Valerie check into a famous Paris hotel for a two-week respite. Eerie foreshadowing begins as Matilda suddenly feels ill and dizzy upon arrival.
Valerie helps her mother to their rooms; a sense of unease pervades their settling in.
Matilda’s illness rapidly intensifies—fever, head pain, and weakness. The hotel manager and the mysterious Dr. Colbert are summoned.
Dr. Colbert cannot leave but asks Valerie to fetch medication from the other side of Paris, setting up her absence.
Valerie is shown every room in the hotel with no sign of her mother.
In desperation, she confronts Dr. Colbert, who now claims never to have met her.
Valerie appeals to the British ambassador, Sir Edward, but is met with disbelief:
Matilda’s disquiet:
"Oh, how very strange. I suddenly had the most extraordinary sensation. I went positively dizzy, as though I were about to collapse." (04:53)
Dr. Colbert on the urgency:
"You have pneumonia... If your mama does not have medication soon, I..." (07:44 – 08:16)
Valerie’s shock at the denial:
"But the...the plum colour curtains, the...the roses on the walls and...the clock. Where are they?... No, this is the wrong room." (10:26)
Ambassador’s skepticism:
"Dash it all, young lady, how could anyone possibly entirely redecorate a room, not to mention find new furniture and all, in the space of four hours? It simply isn't feasible." (12:53)
Valerie’s breakdown:
"I am not insane. I'm not. I am not insane. I'm not." (14:11)
The episode employs a classic radio drama storytelling style—formal, atmospheric, and suspenseful. Voices carry a Victorian gravitas, with Eustace Glean’s narration lending an air of cultivated mystery and sly wit. The mounting sense of conspiracy and psychological horror evokes classic tales of Gothic suspense, culminating in a chilling, unresolved enigma.
This episode of Tales of Antiquity will fascinate listeners with its deft blend of historical ambiance, psychological intrigue, and urban legend. The gradual unraveling of reality around Valerie Monkton leaves listeners pondering not just the fate of her mother, but the reliability of memory and the terrifying ease with which a person can be erased.