The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place: Part One

We'll continue with the comparison here. The biggest advantage of Shopify for me is that we don't need any technical requirements for us. We can all talk about the background and the front end. And as soon as you start with the online shop.

If you buy Shopify, then you'll have the platform for you. That's the reason for that. Our whole story is over. Now, let's start with a cost-losing test of Shopify. I'm Hugh Bonneville and welcome to Sherlock Holmes Short Stories.

The series will be delve into the files of Fiction's most brilliant detective, following his keen mind and unearring instincts

from the first subtle clue to the final dramatic revelation.

This time, we bring you the last Sherlock Holmes story that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ever wrote. The adventure of Shoskum Old Place. First published in 1927, just three years before Doyle's death.

The story sees Holmes and Watson leave the bustle of Baker Street for the quiet grandeur of the English countryside. At Shoskum Old Place, a stately manner steeped in history and horse racing,

something is a miss. Mr. James Mason, a loyal trainer, comes to Holmes with troubling concerns. His employer, Sir Robert Norberton,

has been behaving strangely.

A hidden crypt, a mysterious late night visitor, and an eerie figure emerging from the family tomb,

“all point to a secret to dark to stay buried.”

From the Neuser podcast network, this is the adventure of Shoskum Old Place, Part One. [Music] Sherlock Holmes had been bending for a long time over a low power microscope.

Now he's straightened himself up and looked round at me in triumph. "It is glue," Watson said. "Unquestionably, it is glue! Have a look at these scattered objects in the field.

I stooped to the eyepiece and focused for my vision." Those hairs are threads from a tweet coat. The irregular gray masses are dust. There are epithelial scales on the left. Those brown blobs in the center are undoubtedly glue.

Well, I said laughing. "I am prepared to take your word for it. Does anything depend upon it?" "It is a very fine demonstration," he answered. In the Saint-Pancras case,

“you may remember that a cap was found beside the dead policeman.”

The accused man denies that it is his, but he is a picture frame maker who habitually handles glue. "Is it one of your cases?" "No.

My friend Medevail of the yard asked me to look into the case since I ran down that corner by the zinc and copper filings and the seam of his calf. They have begun to realize the importance of the microscope." He looked impatiently at his watch.

"I had a new client calling, but he is overdue. By the way, what's in you know something of racing?" "Well, I ought to, I pay for it with about half my wound pension. Then I'll make you my handy guide to the turf. What about so Robert Norberton?

Does the name recall anything?" "Oh, well, I shouldn't say so. He lives at Shoskim old place, and I know it well for my some-a-quarters were down there once. Norberton nearly came within your province once.

"How was that?" But it was when he horse-wipped Sam Brewer, the well-known cousin street money lender on New Market Heath. He nearly killed the man. "Ah, he sounds interesting.

Does he often indulge in that way?" "Well, he has the name of being a dangerous man. He is about the most dare-devil rider in England, second in the Grand National a few years back. He's one of those men who have overshot their true generation.

He should have been a buck in the days of the Regency, a boxer, an athlete a plunger on the turf, a lover of fair ladies, and by all accounts so far down queer street

that he may never find his way back again.

Capacle Watson, a thumbnail sketch. I seem to know the man.

“Now, can you give me some idea of Shoskim old place?”

Only that it is in the centre of Shoskim park and that the famous Shoskim stud and training quarters

"And the head trainer," said Holmes, "Is John Mason?" "You need not look surprised at my knowledge, Watson, for this is a letter from him, which I am unfolding, but let us have some more about Shoskim.

I seem to have struck a rich vein." "Oh, there are the Shoskim spannials," said I. "You hear of them at every dog show, the most exclusive breed in England. They are the special pride of the lady of Shoskim old place.

Sir Robert Norberton's wife, I presume.

The Sir Robert has never married,

“just as well, I think, considering his prospects.”

He lives with his widowed sister, lady Beatrice Falder. You mean that she lives with him? No, no, no. The place belonged to her late husband, Sir James. Norberton has no claim on it at all.

It is only a life interest and reverts to her husband's brother. Meantime, she draws the rents every year. And, brother Robert, I suppose, spends these said rents. That is about the size of it. He is a devil of a fellow and must lead her and most uneasy life.

Yet I have heard that she is devoted to him.

But what is a miss at Shoskim?

Ah, that is just what I want to know. And here I expect is the man who can tell us. The door had opened and the page had shown in a tall, clean-shaven man, with the firm or steer expression, which is only seen upon those who have to control horses or boys.

Mr. John Mason had many of both under his sway and he looked equal to the task. He bowed with cold self-position and seated himself upon the chair to which homes had waived him. You had my note, Mr. Holmes?

Yes, but it explained nothing. It was too delicate a thing for me to put the details on paper, and too complicated. It was only face-to-face I could do it. Well, we are at your disposal.

First of all, Mr. Holmes,

“I think that my employer, so Robert, has gone mad.”

Holmes raised his eyebrows. This is Baker Street, not Hollywood Street, said he. But why do you say so? Well, sir, when a man does one queer thing, or two queer things, there may be a meaning to it,

but when everything he does is queer, then you begin to wonder. I believe Showskin Prince and the Derby have turned his brain. That is a cult you are running. The best in England, Mr. Holmes. I should know if anyone does.

No, I'll be playing with you for I know you are a gentleman of honor, and that it won't go beyond the room. So Robert has got to win this Derby. He's up to the neck, and it's his last chance. Everything he could raise or borrow is on the horse.

And at fine odds, too, you can get 40s now, but it was nearer than 100 when he began to back him. But how is that if the horse is so good? The public, don't know how good he is. Sir Robert has been too clever for the touts.

He has the Prince's half-brother out for spins. You can't tell him the part, but there are two lengths in a furlump between them when it comes to a gallop. He thinks of nothing but the horse and the race. His whole life is on it.

He's holding off the money lenders to win. Is the Prince fails him? He is done. I'll show you my Leonardo. And I'm the founder of Yaui, a songwriter who works at Kunstwerke

and has shared the specialised object. My role is "Shoppy-Fi", because "Shoppy-Fi" in comparison to the other platforms I've tested with my friends. I've been thinking about the future.

“All tools for the development of a horse are important”

for example from "Lager" to "Shoppy-Fi" to "Shoppy-Fi". It seems a rather desperate gamble but where does the madness come in?

you have only to look at him. I don't believe he sleeps at 90s down at the stables at all hours. His eyes are wild. It has all been too much for his nerves. Then there is his conduct to Lady Beatrice.

Ah! What is that?

They have always been the best of friends.

They had the same tastes that two of them and she loved the horses as much as he did. Every day at the same hour she would drive down to see them and above all she loved the prince. He would prick up his ears when he heard the wheels on the gravel and he would trot out each morning to the carriage to get his lump of sugar.

But that's all over now. Why? Well, she seemed to have lost all interest in the horses. For a week now, she has driven past the stables with never so much as good morning. You think there has been a quarrel?

And a bitter, savage, spiteful quarrel at that.

“Why else would he give away her pet spaniel that she loved as if he were her child?”

He gave it a few days ago to old barns what keeps the green dragon three miles off her crendle. That certainly did seem strange. Of course, with her weak heart and drop sea one couldn't expect that she could get about with him, but he spent two hours every evening in her room. He might well do what he could for she has been a rare good friend to him.

But that's all over too, he never goes near her, and she takes it to heart.

She is brooding and sulky and drinking Mr. Holmes, drinking like a fish. Did she drink before this estrangement? Well, she took her class, but now it is often a whole bottle of an evening. So Stephen's the butler told me it's all changed Mr. Holmes. Now there is something damned rotten about it.

“But then again, what is Master doing down at the old church crypt at night?”

Then who is the man that meets him there? Holmes rubbed his hands. Go on Mr. Mason, you'll get more and more interesting. It was the butler who saw him go. Twelve o'clock at night and reigning hard. So next night I was up at the house and sure enough, Master was off again.

Stephen's and I went after him, but it was jumpy work, for it would have been a bad job if he had seen us. He's a terrible man, but his fists if he gets started and no respecter of persons. So we were shy of getting to near, but we marked him down all right. It was the haunted crypt that he was making for, and there was a man waiting for him there. What is this haunted crypt?

Well sir, there is an old ruined chapel in the park. It is so old that nobody could fix its date, and under it there's a crypt which has a bad name among us. There's a dark, damp, lonely place by day, but there are few in that county that would have the nerve to go near it at night.

“But Master's not afraid, he never feared anything in his life, but what is he doing there in the night's time?”

Wait a bit, said Holmes. You say there is another man there. It must be one of your own stablemen or someone from the house. Surely you have only to spot who it is and question him. It's no one, I know.

How can you say that? Because I have seen him, Mr. Holmes.

It was on that second night, so Robert turned and passed us me and Stevens,

Quaking in the bushes like two funny rabbits, for there was a bit of moon that night. But we could hear the other moving about behind. We were not afraid of him, so we got up when so Robert was gone, and pretended we were just having a walk like in the moon night, and so we came right on him as casual and innocent as you please.

"Hello mate, who may you be?" says I. I guess he had not heard us coming, so he looked over his shoulder with a face as if he had seen the devil coming out of hell.

He could run, or give him that.

In a minute he was out of sight and hearing, and who he was, or what he was, we never found.

But you saw him clearly in the moonlight. Yes, I would swear to his yellow face. A mean dog, I should say. What could he have in common with Sir Robert? [Music]

I'm also a friend of mine, and I'm the founder of Yaui, a singer who is on the Kunstwerke and has a specialised specialised. My wife, Shopee-Fi, was a friend of mine who was in the other platform that I tested with, with Ambe Nutzer. I've been waiting for all the questions.

“All the tools that are important for the development of the coffee are,”

so for example from Lager, you find it directly in the dashboard. Start now your kostenlosen test of Shopee-Fi.com. [Music] Holmes sat for some time lost in thought. Who keeps Lady Beatrice Folder company?

He asked it last. There is her maid, Carrie Evans. She has been with her this five years. And is no doubt devoted. Mr Mason shuffled uncomfortably.

She's devoted enough. He answered it last. But I won't say to whom. Ah, said Holmes. I can't tell tales out of school.

I quite understand Mr Mason, of course. The situation is clear enough. From Dr Watson's description of the Robert I can realise that no woman is safe from him.

“Don't you think the quarrel between brother and sister May lie there?”

Well, the scandal has been pretty clear for a long time. But she may not have seen it before. Let us suppose that she has suddenly found it out. She wants to get rid of the woman. Her brother will not permit it.

The invalid with her weak heart and inability to get about has no means of enforcing her will. The hated maid is still tied to her. The lady refuses to speak. Socks takes to drink. So Robert and his anger takes her pet spanula away from her.

Does not all this hang together? Well, it might do. So far as it goes. Exactly as far as it goes. How would all that bear up on the visits by night to the old crypt?

We can't fit that into our plot. No, sir. And there is something more that I can't fit in. Why should the Robert want to dig up a dead body? Holmes set up abruptly.

We only found it out yesterday. After I had written to you yesterday, so Robert had gone to London. So Stevens and I went down to the crypt. It was all in order, sir, except that in one corner, there was a bit of a human body.

You informed the police, I suppose? Visitor smiled grimly. Well, sir. I think it would hardly interest them. It was just the head into few bones of a mummy.

It may have been a thousand years old, but it wasn't there before. That elsewhere and so will Stevens. It had been stowed away in a corner and covered over with a board.

But that corner had always been empty before.

What did you do with it? Well, we just left it there. That was wise.

“You say so Robert was away yesterday, has he returned?”

We expect him back today. When did Sir Robert give away his sister's dog? It was just a week ago today. The creature was howling outside the old wellhouse, and Sir Robert was in one of his tantrums that morning.

He caught it up, and I thought he would have killed it. Then he gave it to Sandy Bane, the jockey, and told him to take the dog to world barns at the green dragon

for he never wished to see it again.

Holmes sat for some time in silent thought.

I am not clear yet what you want me to do in this matter, Mr. Mason.

He said it last. Can't you make it more definite?

“Perhaps this will make it more definite.”

Mr. Holmes said our visitor. He took a paper from his pocket, and unwrapping it carefully, he exposed a charred fragment of bone. Holmes examined it with interest. Where did you get it?

There is a central heating furnace in the cellar under Lady Beatrice's room. It has been off for some time,

but Sir Robert complained of cold and had it on again.

Harving runs it, he's one of my lads. This very morning he came to me with this, which he found, raking out the cinders. He didn't like the look of it. "Nor do I," said Holmes.

"What do you make of it Watson?" "It was burned to a black cinder,

“but there could be no question as to its anatomical significance.”

It's the upper condile of a human femur," said I. "Exactly!" Holmes had become very serious.

When does this lad tend to the furnace?

He makes it up every evening, and then leaves it. Then anyone could visit it during the night? Yes, Sir. Can you enter it from outside? There is one door from outside.

There is another which leads up by a stair to the passage in which Lady Beatrice's room is situated. These are deep waters, Mr Mason deep, and rather dirty.

“You say that so Robert was not at home last night?”

No, Sir. Then whoever was burning bones, it was not he. That's true, Sir. What is the name of that inn, you spoke of? The green dragon.

Is there good fishing in that part of Bucksha? The honest trainer showed very clearly upon his face that he was convinced that yet another lunatic had come into his harrest life. Well, Sir, I've heard there are trout in the millstream and pike in the whole lake.

That's good enough. Watson and I are famous fishermen. Are we not Watson? You may address us in future at the green dragon. We should reach it tonight.

I need not say that we don't want to see you, Mr Mason, but a note will reach us and no doubt I could find you if I want you. When we have gone a little farther into the matter, I will let you have a considered opinion. Next time on Sherlock Holmes' short stories,

Holmes and Watson arrive at the green dragon with their fishing tackle in tow. The re-homed spaniel helps uncover a dastardly ruse. And a late night visit to the family crypt provides everything Holmes needs to crack the case.

That's next time. [music] Can't wait a week into the next episode? Well, listen to it right away by subscribing to NeuserPlus.

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