
"Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle follows Sherlock Holmes as he investigates a seemingly trivial case involving a battered hat and a dead goose. However, what begins as a simple inquiry quickly escalates into a thrilling tale...
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Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Part one of the Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle this is a Librivox recording. All Librivox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org Read by Phil Shanavar the Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing gown, a pipe rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied. Near at hand beside the couch, was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard felt hat, much the worse for wear and cracked in several places. A lens and a forcep lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination. You are engaged, said I. Perhaps I interrupt you. Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the old hat, but there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction. I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in and the windows were thick with the ice crystals. I suppose I remarked that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked onto it, that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime. No, no, no crime, said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have 4 million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity. Every possible combination of events may be expected to take place and many a little problem will be presented which will be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such so much. So I remarked that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime. Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the commissionaire? Yes. It is to him that this trophy belongs. It is his hat. No, no, he found it. The owner is unknown. I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock, but as an intellectual problem. And first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning in company with a good fat goose which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire. The facts are, about 4 o' clock on Christmas morning, Petersen, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw in
Sherlock Holmes
the gaslight a tallish man walking with
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
a slight stagger and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Gooditch Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of ruffs. One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants, but the man, shocked at having broken the window and seeing an official looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Petersen, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose which surely he restored to their owner. My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that for Mrs. Henry Baker was printed upon a small cord which was tied to the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials HB Are legible upon the lining of this hat. But as there are some thousands of bakers and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them. What then did Peterson do? He brought round both the hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder had carried it off, therefore to fulfill the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continued to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner. Did he not advertise?
John Ryder
No.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Then what clue could you have as to his identity? Only as much as we can deduce from his hat. Precisely. But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt? Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article? I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but it was a good deal discolored. There was no maker's name, but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials HB Were scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discolored patches by smearing them with ink. I can see nothing, said I, handing it back to my friend. On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences. Then pray tell me, what is it that you can infer from this hat? He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him. It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been, he remarked, and yet there are a few inferences which are very Distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it. And also that he was fairly well to do within the last three years. Although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral retrogression which when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him. My dear Holmes. He has, however, retained some degree of self respect. He continued, disregarding my remonstrance. He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days and which he anoints with lime cream. These are the more patent facts which can be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house. You are certainly joking, Holmes. Not in the least. Is it possible that even now when I give you these results, you are unable to see how they are attained? I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?
Sherlock Holmes
For Holmes clapped the hat upon his head.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. It is a question of cubic capacity, said he. A man with so large a brain must have something in it. The decline of his fortunes then. This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago and has had no hat since then, he has assuredly gone down in the world.
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Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression? Sherlock Holmes laughed. Here is the foresight, said he, putting his finger upon the little disk and loop of the hat securer. They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavored to conceal some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self respect. Your reasoning is certainly plausible. The further points that he is middle aged and that his hair is grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime cream are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odor of lime cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty gray dust of the street, but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired freely and could therefore hardly be in the best of training.
Sherlock Holmes
But tis wife.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
You said that she had ceased to love him. This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection. But he might be a bachelor. Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace offering to his wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg? You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house? One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance, but when I see no less than 5, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow. Walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow stains from a gas jet. Are you satisfied? Well, it is very ingenious, said I, laughing, but since, as you said just now, there has been no crime committed and no harm done, save the loss of a goose, all this seems to
Sherlock Holmes
be rather a waste of energy.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply when the door flew open and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment. The goose, Mr. Holmes, the goose, sir, he gasped. Eh, what of it then? Has it returned to life? And flapped off through the kitchen window. Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face. See here, sir. See what my wife found in its crop. He held out his hand and displayed upon the center of the palm a. A brilliantly scintillating bluestone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such
Sherlock Holmes
purity and radiance that it twinkled like
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand. Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. By Jove, Peterson, said he, this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you have got. A diamond, sir. A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were putty. It's more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone, not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle. I ejaculated precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have read the advertisement about it in the Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique and its value can only be conjectured. But the Reward offered of £1,000 is certainly not within a 20th part of the market price. A thousand pounds.
John Ryder
Great lord of mercy.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
The Commissionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us. That is the reward. And I have reason to know that there are sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the countess to part with half her fortune if she could but recover the gem it was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan, I remarked Precisely so. On December 22, just five days ago, John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's jewel case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Azizas. I have some account of the matter here, I believe. He rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out, doubled it over and read the following. Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having, upon the 22nd instant abstracted from the jewel case of the Countess of Morcar, the valuable gem known as the blue Carbuncle. James Ryder, upper attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the dressing room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate which was loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep her jewel was lying empty upon the dressing table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm and Horner was arrested the same evening. But the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed. To having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on discovering the robbery and to having rushed into the room where she found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector Broadstreet, B Division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled frantically and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner. The magistrate refused to deal similarly with the offense, but referred it to the Azizas. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of the court. H'm, so much for the police court, said Holmes, thoughtfully tossing aside the paper. The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled jewelry case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our Little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone. The stone comes from the goose and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To do this we must try the simplest means first and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail I shall have recourse to other methods. What will you say? Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now then, found at the corner of Googee Street a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B Baker Street. That is clear and concise. Very. But will he see it? Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers since to a poor man the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Petersen that he thought of nothing but flight. But since then he must have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then again the introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to it. Here you are, Peterson. Run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers. In which, sir? Oh, in the Globe, star, Pall Mall, St. James Gazette, evening News, Standard, Echo and any others that occur to you. Very well, sir. And this stone? Ah yes, I shall keep the stone, thank you. And I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring. When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. It's a bonny thing, said he. Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet 20 years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy river in southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol throwing, a suicide and several robberies brought
Sherlock Holmes
about for the sake of this 40
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
grain weight of crystallized charcoal.
Sherlock Holmes
Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
gallows and the prison? I'll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to
Sherlock Holmes
the Countess to say that we have it.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Do you think that this man Horner is innocent? I cannot tell. Well then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, has anything to do with the matter? It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test in if we have an answer to our advertisement. And you can do nothing until then? Nothing. In that case I shall continue my professional round, but I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like to see the solution to so tangled a business. Very glad to see you. I dine at seven.
Sherlock Holmes
There is a woodcock, I believe.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.
Sherlock Holmes
I had been delayed at a case
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
and it was a little after half
Sherlock Holmes
past six when I found myself in
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Baker street once more.
Sherlock Holmes
As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
with a coat which was buttoned up to his chin, waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight.
Sherlock Holmes
Just as I arrived, the door was
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
opened and we were shown up together to Holmes room. Mr. Henry Baker, I believe, said he, rising from his arm chair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily assume.
Sherlock Holmes
Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
It is a cold night and I observe that your circulation is more adopted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have come just at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker? Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat. He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head and a broad, intelligent face sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks with a slight tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes surmise as to his habits. His rusty black frock coat was buttoned
Sherlock Holmes
right up in front of, with the collar turned up and his lank wrists
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
protruding from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow, staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had ill usage at the Hand of fortune. We have retained these things for some days, said Holmes, because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I am at a loss to know why you did not advertise.
Sherlock Holmes
Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were, he remarked. I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt at recovering them. Very naturally, by the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat it. To eat it. Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement. Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer
Sherlock Holmes
your purpose equally well.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Oh, Certainly, certainly, answered Mr. Baker with
Sherlock Holmes
a sigh of relief.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird. So if you wish. The man burst into a hearty laugh. They might be useful to me as relics of my adventure, said he, but beyond that, I can hardly see what use the disjecta membrae of my late acquaintance are going to be to me. No, sir, I think that with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard.
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Sherlock Holmes
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Sherlock Holmes
Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
There is your hat, then, and there your bird, said he.
Sherlock Holmes
By the way, would it bore you
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a foul fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose. Certainly, sir, said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under his arm. There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn near the museum. We are to be found in the museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windgate by name, instituted a goose club by which, on consideration of some few pence every week we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity. With a comical pomposity of manner, he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon his way. So much for Mr. Henry Baker, said Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson? Not particularly. Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while it is still hot. By all means. Part two of the Adventure of the
Sherlock Holmes
Blue Carbuncle by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
this Librivox recording is in the public domain.
Sherlock Holmes
Part 2
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and
Sherlock Holmes
wrapped cravats about our throats. Outside the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky and the breath of
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
the passers by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots.
Sherlock Holmes
Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung through the Doctor's quarter,
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Wimpole Street, Harley street and so through Wigmore street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn which is a small public house at the corner of one of the streets which turns down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the
Sherlock Holmes
private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from the ruddy faced white aproned landlord.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese, said he. My geese?
Sherlock Holmes
The man seemed surprised.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Yes, I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker who was a member of your goose club. Ah, yes, I see. But you see sir, them's not our geese. Indeed? Whose then? Well I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden. Indeed, I know some of them.
Sherlock Holmes
Which was it?
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Breckinridge is his name. Ah, I don't know him. Well here's your good health landlord and prosperity to your house.
John Ryder
Good night
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
now for Mr. Breckinbridge. He continued buttoning up his coat as
Sherlock Holmes
we came out into the frosty air.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Remember Watson, that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt. But in any case we have a line of investigation which which has been missed by the police and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Face to the south then and quick march. We passed across Holborn, down Endell street and so through a zigzag of slums
Sherlock Holmes
to Covent Garden market. One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it and the proprietor, a horsey looking man with a sharp face and trim side whiskers, was
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
helping a boy to put up the shutters. Good evening. It's a cold night, said Holmes. The salesman nodded and shot a questioning
Sherlock Holmes
glance at my companion.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Sold out of geese I see, continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble. Let you have 500 to morrow morning. That's no good. Well there are some on the stall with the gas flare. Ah, but I was recommended to you. Who buy?
Sherlock Holmes
The landlord of the Alpha. Oh yes, I sent him A couple
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
of dozen fine birds they were too. Now where did you get them from?
Sherlock Holmes
To my surprise the question provoked a
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
burst of anger from the salesman. Now then mister, said he with his head cocked and his arms akimbo.
Sherlock Holmes
What are you driving at? Let's have it straight now. It's straight enough. I should like to know who sold
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha.
Sherlock Holmes
Well then I shan't tell you so now.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Oh, it's a matter of no importance,
Sherlock Holmes
but I don't know why you should be so warm over such a trifle. Warm?
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
You'd be as warm maybe if you
Sherlock Holmes
were as pestered as I am. When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business. But it's where are the geese and who did you sell the geese to and what will you take for the geese? One would think they were the only geese in the world to hear the
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
fuss that is made over them. Well I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries, said Holmes carelessly. If you won't tell us, the bed is off.
Sherlock Holmes
That is all.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
But I'm always ready to back my opinion as a matter of fowls. And I have a fiver on it
Sherlock Holmes
that the bird I ate is country bread.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Well then you've lost your fiver for
Sherlock Holmes
its town bred, snapped the salesman.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
It's nothing of the kind.
Sherlock Holmes
I say it is. I don't believe it. Do you think you know more about fowls than I who have handled them
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
ever since I was a nipper?
Sherlock Holmes
I tell you all those birds that went to the Alpha were town bred.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
You'll never persuade me to believe that, will you?
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Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Then it's merely taking your money, for
Sherlock Holmes
I know I am right. But I'll have a sovereign on with you just to teach you not to be obstinate. The salesman chuckled grimly.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Bring me the books Bill, said he.
Sherlock Holmes
The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great greasy backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Now then Mr. Cocksure, said the salesman,
Sherlock Holmes
I thought that I was out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is still one left in my shop.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
You see this little book? Well that is the list of the
Sherlock Holmes
folks from whom I buy, d' ye see? Well then here on this page are
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
the country folk and the numbers after
Sherlock Holmes
their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now then, you see this other page in red ink? Well that is a list of my town suppliers. Now look at that third name Just read it out to me.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Mrs. Oakshott, 117 Brixton Road, 249.
Sherlock Holmes
Read Holmes. Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger. Holmes turned to the page indicated here.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
You are Mrs. Oakshott, 117 Brixton Road, Egg and poultry supplier.
Sherlock Holmes
Now then, what's the last entry? December 22, 24 geese at 7 shillings, sixpence. Quite so. There you are.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
And underneath?
Sherlock Holmes
Sold to Mr. Windgate at the Alpha at 12 shillings. What have you to say now? Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He took a sovereign from his pocket
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
and threw it down upon the slab,
Sherlock Holmes
turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped under a lamp post and laughed in the hearty noiseless fashion which was peculiar to him.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
When you see a man with whiskers
Sherlock Holmes
of that cut and the pinkin protruding
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet, said he. I dare say that if I had put £100 down in front of him, that man would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from
Sherlock Holmes
him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing
Sherlock Holmes
the end of our quest and the only point which remains to be determined is whether we should go on to
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
this Mrs. Oakshott to night or whether
Sherlock Holmes
we should reserve it for to morrow. It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others beside ourselves who are anxious about the matter.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
And I should.
Sherlock Holmes
His remarks were suddenly cut short by
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
a loud hubbub which broke out from
Sherlock Holmes
the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little rat faced fellow standing in the center of the circle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge the salesman framed in the door of his stall was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. I've had enough of you and your geese. He shouted. I wish you were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk, I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I'll answer her.
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Sherlock Holmes
But what have you got to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
No, but one of them was mine all the same, whined the little man.
Sherlock Holmes
Well then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
She told me to ask you.
Sherlock Holmes
Well, you can ask the King of Prussia for all I care. I've had enough of it. Get out of this. He rushed fiercely forward and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness.
John Ryder
Ha.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
This may save us a visit to Brixton Road, whispered Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes
Come with me and we will see
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
what is to be made of this fellow.
Sherlock Holmes
Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round and I could see in the gaslight that every vestige of color had been driven from his face.
John Ryder
Who are you then?
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
What do you want?
Sherlock Holmes
He asked in a quavering voice.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
You will excuse me, said Holmes blandly, but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now.
Sherlock Holmes
I think that I could be of assistance to you.
John Ryder
You?
Sherlock Holmes
Who are you?
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
How could you know anything about the matter? My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't know. But you can know nothing of this. Excuse me, I know everything of it.
Sherlock Holmes
You are endeavoring to trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott of Brixton Road to a salesman named Breckinridge,
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
by him in turn to Mr. Wingate of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member.
John Ryder
Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers.
John Ryder
I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter.
Sherlock Holmes
Sherlock Holmes hailed a four wheeler which was passing. In that case, we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
in this wind swept market place, said he.
Sherlock Holmes
But pray tell me before we go
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
farther, who is it that I have
Sherlock Holmes
the pleasure of assisting? The man hesitated for an instant. My name is John Robinson, he answered with a sidelong glance. No, no, the real name, said Holmes sweetly. It is always awkward doing business with an alias. A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Well then, said he, my real name is James Ryder.
Sherlock Holmes
Precisely so.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan.
Sherlock Holmes
Pray step into the cab and I
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would Wish to know?
Sherlock Holmes
The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half frightened, half hopeful eyes as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab and in half an hour we were back
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
in the sitting room at Baker Street.
Sherlock Holmes
Nothing had been said during our drive but the high thin breathing of our new companion and the clasping and unclaspings of his hands spoke of the nervous tension within him.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Here we are, said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room.
Sherlock Holmes
The fire looks very seasonable in this weather.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
You look cold, Mr. Ryder.
Sherlock Holmes
Pray take the basket chair. I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now then, you want to know what
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
became of those geese?
Sherlock Holmes
Yes, sir, or rather, I fancy of that goose.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
It was one bird I imagine, in which you were interested.
Sherlock Holmes
White with a black bar across the tail. Ryder quivered with emotion.
John Ryder
Oh sir.
Sherlock Holmes
He cried. Can you tell me where it went to?
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
It came here.
Sherlock Holmes
Here? Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonder that you should take an interest in laid an egg after it was dead. The bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here in my museum. Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong box and held up the blue carbuncle which shone out like a star with a cold, brilliant, many pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. The game's up, Ryder, said Holmes quietly.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Hold up man, or you'll be into the fire. Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. Give him a dash of brandy so now he looks a little more human.
Sherlock Holmes
What a shrimp it is.
John Ryder
To be sure.
Sherlock Holmes
For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen. But the brandy brought a tinge of color into his cheeks and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser. I have almost every link in my hands and all the proofs which I could possibly need. So there is little which you need tell me still.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
That little may as well be cleared
Sherlock Holmes
up to make the case complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
stone of the Countess of Morcars.
John Ryder
It was Catherine Cusack who told me
Sherlock Holmes
of it, said he in a crackling voice.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
I see Her Ladyship's waiting maid. Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you as it has been for better men
Sherlock Holmes
before you, but you were not very
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
scrupulous in the means you used.
Sherlock Holmes
It seems to me, Ryder, that there
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
is the making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this man Horner the plumber, had been concerned in such matters
Sherlock Holmes
before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
What did you do then? You made some small job in my
Sherlock Holmes
lady's room, you in your Confederate cusack,
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
and you managed that he should be
Sherlock Holmes
the man sent for.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Then when he had left, you rifled the jewel case, raised the alarm and
Sherlock Holmes
had this unfortunate man arrested.
John Ryder
You.
Sherlock Holmes
Then Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion's knees.
John Ryder
For God's sake, have mercy.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
He shrieked.
John Ryder
Think of my father, of my mother. It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before, I never will again. I swear it. I'll swear it on a Bible. Oh, don't bring it into court. For Christ's sake, don't.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Get back into your chair, said Holmes sternly. It is very well to cringe and crawl now. But you thought little enough of this
Sherlock Holmes
poor Horner in the dock for a
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
crime of which he knew nothing. I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir.
Sherlock Holmes
Then the charge against him will break down.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Humph.
Sherlock Holmes
We will talk about that.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
But now let us hear a true
Sherlock Holmes
account of the next act. How came the stone into the goose
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
and how came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies
Sherlock Holmes
your only hope of safety. Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. I will tell you it just as
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
it happened, sir, said he.
Sherlock Holmes
When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. I went out as if on some commission and I made for my sister's house. She had married a man named Oakshott and lived in Brixton Road where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective, and for all that it was a cold night. The sweat was pouring down my face. Before I came to the Brixton Road my sister asked me what was the matter and why I was so pale, but I told her I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would Be best to do. I had a friend once called Maudsley who went to the bad and he had just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me and fell into talk about the ways of thieves and how they'd get rid of what they stole. And I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him. So I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money, but how to get to him in safety. I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched and there would be the
John Ryder
stone in my waistcoat pocket.
Sherlock Holmes
I was leaning against the wall at the time and looked at the geese which were waddling around round my feet. And suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived. My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present. And I knew that she was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard and behind this I drove one of the birds, a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled and out came my sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her, the brute broke loose and fluttered off among the others.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem? Said she. Well, said I, you said you'd give
Sherlock Holmes
me one for Christmas. And I was feeling which was the fattest. Oh, says she, we've set yours aside for you.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Jem's bird, we call it.
Sherlock Holmes
It's the big white one over yonder. There's 26 of them, which makes one for you and one for us and two dozen for the market. Thank you, Maggie, says I, but if
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
it is all the same to you,
Sherlock Holmes
I'd rather have that one I was handling just now.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
The other is a good three pound
Sherlock Holmes
heavier, said she, and we fattened it expressly for you. Never mind, I'll have the other. And I'll take it now, said I. Oh, just as you like, said she, a little huffed.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Which is the one you want Then
Sherlock Holmes
the white one with the barred tail right in the middle of the flock. Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you. Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done for he was a man, that it was easy to tell a thing like that to.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
He laughed until he choked and we
Sherlock Holmes
got a knife and opened the goose.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
My heart turned to water for there was no sign of the stone and
Sherlock Holmes
I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird, rushed back to my sisters and hurried into the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there. Where are they all, Maggie? I cried.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Gone to the dealers, Jen.
Sherlock Holmes
Which dealers?
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Breckenridge of Covent Garden.
Sherlock Holmes
But was there another with a barred tail? I asked. The same as the one I chose. Yes, Jim, there were two barred tailed
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
ones and I could never tell them apart.
Sherlock Holmes
Well then, of course I saw it all and I ran off as hard as my feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge. But he had sold the lot at once and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You heard him yourselves to night. Well, he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now I am myself a branded
John Ryder
thief without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me. God help me.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
He burst into convulsive sobbing with his face buried in his hands.
Sherlock Holmes
There was a long silence broken only by his heavy breathing and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes finger tips upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
Get out, said he.
Sherlock Holmes
What, sir?
John Ryder
Oh, heaven bless you.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
No more words.
Sherlock Holmes
Get out.
John Ryder
Out.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
And no more words were needed.
Sherlock Holmes
There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door and the crisp rattle of running footsteps from the street. After all, Watson, said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe, I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
If Horner were in danger it would be another thing.
Sherlock Holmes
But this fellow will not appear against him and the case must collapse.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
I suppose that I am now commuting
Sherlock Holmes
a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
He is too terribly frightened.
Sherlock Holmes
Send him to the jail now and
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
you make him a jail bird for life.
Sherlock Holmes
Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own. Reward.
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
If you will have the goodness to touch the bell.
Sherlock Holmes
Dr. We will begin another investigation in which also a bird will be the chief. Feature
Narrator (Dr. Watson)
End of the Adventure of the
Sherlock Holmes
Blue Carbuncle by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
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Episode: Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Date: July 26, 2026
Host: solgoodmedia.com
In this episode, listeners are treated to a dramatized, public domain audiobook performance of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous Sherlock Holmes story, “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle.” This tale, though not set in the far-flung future or among alien stars, fits the podcast’s imaginative remit by delving into the mysteries and curiosities hidden in the familiar streets of Victorian London. Sherlock Holmes, assisted by Dr. Watson, unravels the story behind a battered hat, a lost Christmas goose, and a legendary stolen gemstone—the Blue Carbuncle—revealing how even the most ordinary objects can conceal extraordinary secrets.
"You are too timid in drawing your inferences. Then pray tell me, what is it that you can infer from this hat?"
"If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago and has had no hat since then, he has assuredly gone down in the world."
"By Jove, Peterson, this is treasure trove indeed... It is the precious stone, not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle?" (Holmes, 16:54)
"So much for Mr. Henry Baker... It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?"
"Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward." (Holmes, 54:44)
The language retains the witticism, warmth, and incisive logic characteristic of Doyle’s Holmes stories. The interplay between Holmes and Watson is affectionate and tinged with humor—Holmes is ever-curious and reasoning, Watson slightly incredulous but loyal.
This episode presents an engaging, twist-filled detective tale, mapping Holmes’s progression from a simple holiday curiosity to the unraveling of grand theft and a near-miscarriage of justice. The story, with all its deductive brilliance, comic undertones, and ultimate charity, stands as a reminder that the greatest adventures can arise from the most unassuming clues, and that justice sometimes means more than mere punishment.
Listeners interested in classic mystery, the art of deduction, and the intersection of logical thinking with human compassion will find this episode a delightful and thought-provoking experience.