Sherlock Holmes - Blarney Stone

That three-wine brings you...

Basil Wattborn and Nigel Bruce and the new adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

The Petrie family, the family that took time to bring you good wine,

invite you to listen to Dr. Watson tell us another story about his old friend

that master detective, Sherlock Holmes.

And incidentally, I'd like to tell you about a swell American custom.

The custom of serving Sherry wine just before dinner.

Petrie, California Sherry.

You know, especially when you have guests while you're waiting for that call to the dinner table,

there's nothing better than a good glass of a good petrie Sherry.

You don't need fancy glasses for petrie Sherry.

Not sir. That wine tastes good out of any glass.

And it looks good too.

Beautifully clear and the color of precious amber.

Just try that Petrie Sherry and you'll feel like smacking your lips after every sip.

Or in say, Petrie makes two kinds of Sherry.

The regular Sherry and Petrie pale dry Sherry.

Just to make sure you get the perfect Sherry for the whole family,

don't buy one, buy two.

But do be sure the Sherry you buy is Petrie Sherry.

Petrie, the proudest name and the history of American wine.

How I'm sure I good friend Dr. Watson's ready for us. Let's go in and join him.

Oh, there you are, Mr. Bartell.

Good evening, Dr.. Say, where are the puppies receiving?

Mr. Bartell, don't think it's about time you began to refer to them as the dogs.

They're almost a year old, you know.

I stand corrected. Where are the dogs, I see?

Well, they had another furious battle over the dead seal on the beach today.

My housekeeper, Mrs. West, is giving them a much-needed bond.

They certainly have an aversion to seals, don't they?

Well, Dr. Ray, you're already with the nice new Sherry icon's adventure.

Yes, my boy. And as yesterday was some Patrick's day,

I decided to tell you a story that took place in Ireland a few years before the turn of the century.

I imagine that you've heard of kissing the brownest tone, am I?

Oh, yes, Dr., though I've never understood exactly what it meant.

Well, let me explain it to you.

Because the ceremony plays a very important part in the story tonight.

Blanny Castle is an imposing 15th century ruin,

a few miles outside the town of Cork.

The castle is many a store is high, and on the former's tower,

the famous Blanny Stone is situated.

What's supposed to be the point in kissing it, Dr?

The stone is considered a powerful talisman,

and the legend runs that whoever kisses it is in doubt with eloquence for life.

If I ever get over to Ireland, I'll certainly kiss that stone.

But you're such a story teller yourself, Dr. Ray. How about you, kissed it, huh?

No, it was about you, I'm afraid.

I had quite enough courage.

Courage?

Why does it need courage, Dr?

Well, because the Blanny Stone is sitting the most inaccessible position

on the outside wall to kiss it.

Just custom it to lower the candidate for eloquence.

Over the rampart, head foremost with a friend hanging onto his heels

from the top of the castle.

That sound dangerous, Dr. Ray.

Well, it was, my boy, so much so that in recent years,

a great relevant spikes has put around the carpet to prevent an accident.

Of course, at the time tonight's story took place, there was no such guard.

And I have feeling that an accident did take place, Dr. Ray.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

It was about telling me to tell you the story from the beginning.

Sherlock Holmes and I were staying in the city of Cork,

where the great managers saw the signal of fair,

which the local press had referred to as a pecoran murders.

A few days before the departure of Ringland,

we paid a visit to Blanny Castle.

I must confess that I had a certain desire to test the miraculous powers

attributed to the Blanny Stone.

I would assume she's my mind.

However, those Holmes and I stood there,

high on the turrets of Blanny Castle,

and watched the terrified of his shit being holed up by his ankles

and yelling at the top of his voice.

Pull me up!

Pull me up quickly!

I think I'm going to free it!

Ray Scott had no idea that kissing the Blanny Stone was such a hazardous proceeding.

No.

It would seem that eloquence could be more easily obtained

than by hanging his suspended bike from his ankles from a bafflement

with a hundred foot drop below and kissing a piece of stone.

Oh, never do that again.

Oh, never do that again.

Oh, never do that again.

I must say, I don't blame the fuller.

And yet, my dear chap, on our way over here,

you've expressed a sneaking desire to kiss the stone yourself.

I'll be very happy to hold your ankles if you want to try the experiment.

No, no, thank you.

After witnessing the ceremony, I change the mind.

Then I suggest we make our way back downstairs.

I don't think there's much more to be seen up here.

Well, by the way, Holmes,

do you know the origin of the superstition regarding the Blanny Stone?

Yes, I do.

The stone was, um, for you, the stone dates back to the middle of the 15th century.

A certain Kormack McCarthy called the strong,

a descendant of the ancient kings of Munster and builder of the castle,

a chance for one day to save an old woman from drowning.

Her gratitude, she offered Kormack a golden tongue,

which would have a power to influence men and women,

friends and foes, as he willed.

She told him to mount the battle and kiss a certain stone in the wall

five feet below the gap rail running around the top.

He put her directions and obtained all the fluent persuasiveness she had promised.

And as per the story spread in the Blanny Stone,

there's been a magnet to pilgrims ever since.

Yes, that person led him to the homes.

Yes, old chap.

Tomorrow's Patrick's Day.

I bet there'll be quite a bit of excitement in the village tonight.

Don't you think it'd be rather fun to say a visit to one of the localians?

Splendid idea, old chap.

A rather arduous work here in Ireland is concluded,

and I think we're more than entitled.

What do you think?

Yes, he is.

In Dublin says to be the girl of liberty,

but there but I first met with her in the lawn.

She wheels her wheelbarrow.

Charming.

A charming awaken.

Singing it is worth.

Singing very well too, just the same.

I wish someone would come and take her out of her.

Oh, there's a bar mid.

I'll see if I can catch her.

Hi.

Miss.

Miss.

What did you just say to her?

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Miss.

Miss.

Would you gentlemen be after wanting something?

Yes, my dear.

My friend and I were like a little refreshment,

and what would you suggest?

What would I suggest, Your Honor?

I'll be gone.

There's but one drink a gentleman like yourself

should be after pouring down you.

And that's the cream of carnivora.

Who's given it a soft, near heartened

and make you glow with a good feeling

so that the little people of you after visiting you?

Hi, John.

It's delightful.

Bring two glasses, will you?

Yes, Your Honor.

Yes, Your Honor.

I must say I never heard an English bar made

going to such raps as it is.

Over a nipple with you.

No, the Irish are distinctly more colourful in their speech.

It's an interesting fact though, Watson,

that the Irish are curiously unrewarding

in the criminal world.

England, Scotland, America, Australia

have all produced classics of crime,

but the Irish murders, almost without exception,

and purely physical,

appears of hot blood.

You say that rather regretfully, Holmes?

Nobody at your chap?

No, no, no.

Watson.

Look at this rather flurry bit.

Gentlemen, coming towards our table.

Looks to me as if he's a little under the weather.

You've got to have a drink with me.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Thank you.

We've just ordered one.

Well, you've got to have it with me.

I went to the races at Cork today and made a killing.

I'm going to buy all the drinks, sir.

Next.

I'm afraid that's going to be enough.

Love you, you're afraid of.

I'll sit down with you for a moment.

Hey, my name's Hanking.

Jeffrey Hanking.

What's your name?

My name's Holmes, and this is my friend, Dr. Watson.

How do you do, sir?

How do you do?

Hey, I'm paying for these, here.

Half a crown, and you can keep a chain.

You were blessings on you, you know.

So, if you insist on paying for our drinks, Mr. Hanking,

here's your very good health.

Yes, indeed.

You're both English, aren't you?

Yes, sir.

So, mine.

It's certainly a relief to hear this voice again.

Oh, you don't like the Irish little sir?

Can't bear it.

Personally, I've had to rob a child.

Yes, indeed, sir, why?

Well, you wouldn't have yet to live with it all the time.

Sometimes, I think that if I hear one more Irish ten,

I'm singing Molly Malone, or one more reference

to the little people, I should be raving now.

A little, now, sir?

No, I have to.

My own half-interest in the Tweed Mill, here, you see.

In any case, my wife's Irish and she thinks

there's no other country in the world, sir.

Those I'm stuck here.

See that couple sitting at the table over there?

You mean the father was a very beautiful girl?

Yes.

Man's Michael Corker and my partner.

Oh, the girl's absolutely ravishing.

She'd like to meet her?

I'd like to, by joy, as well.

You say her home?

No, very well.

What's in the combination of my natural curiosity

and your taste for a pretty face would seem

to suit the occasion, at probably?

I might just well warn you, doctor,

that the pretty face belongs to my wife.

Your wife?

Oh, good good to meet you.

Oh, sorry.

I didn't mean to.

Oh, you better bring your glasses with you.

My idea.

I want you to meet two English friends of mine.

Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, how do you do?

Oh, you do, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson.

Won't you sit down and join us?

And this is my partner, Michael Corker.

Now, how do you do, Mr. Corker?

How do you do, son?

I'm glad to meet you.

Please be seated, gentlemen.

Are you visiting here in Cork?

No.

Yes, this is Ankin, but we're returning to be with him in a few days.

You've been to Blarney Castle, I hope.

Oh, yes, we were there this afternoon.

And did he either have the courage to kiss Blarney so?

No, no.

We didn't.

I'm afraid it's an athlete's feet that's beyond me.

It's a lot of rubbish.

That's what it is.

Yes, it is.

It's flattlestone.

Have you the courage to do it, Jeffrey?

First, I have blood.

I'll make a fool of myself.

Well, the barmaid.

Definitely.

I make a wager, Jeffrey, that you haven't the courage to kiss the stone.

How much should you bet, Michael?

I'll wager a 10 pound note on it.

It's a bet.

And you fell as witnesses.

I'll kiss the blarney stone at noon tomorrow

and you'll be 10 pounds the poor, Michael.

And I suggest Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson be persons as well.

They can act as referees.

Jeffrey, dear, don't get so excited.

I don't like it when Michael suggests I don't have courage.

You want some more drink, Mr. Henry?

That's all of this one, sir.

I know more for me, thank you very much.

No, no, no, no, no.

I'm glad you've had enough, Jeffrey.

Don't tell me when I've had enough money.

In Dublin, especially the girl.

Oh, no.

Not that filthy.

Yes, it is.

And I find them out.

It's a lot of snow.

It's quite beautiful.

And I find them repulsive.

Stop!

Jeffrey, quiet.

We get on it.

You want me to sing another song.

My honor, I would like you to shut up that filthy catable.

Really, sir.

Really, I call this filthy catable.

A shan, please go on with your singing.

In Dublin, spare city.

You heard me of great stop fucking a fool, I said shut up.

And I said shut up.

Jeffrey, I'm living here at once.

Michael, please, take me home.

It would be my pleasure, Molly.

You're an ugly man, Mr. Henken.

Knocking down poor shan when he was singing just like a bird.

Oh, devil with him.

All of you.

No Irishman will be after forgiven you for this night's work.

No, not a little people of old Ireland either.

You've made more enemies, Mr. Henken than you'll ever see.

But you'll be no one there there.

You can't find me with your stupid Irish superstition.

Well, blessed by so, that was a charming little party on him, sir.

Englishmen like Henken are a disgrace to that country.

Unfortunately, they're not representative of it.

Yes, I must say, because put on me like that barmaid laid on him.

What's him?

Did you see the glances which Mr. Henken's partner

and his wife exchanged as blood started?

There was more menace to him in those glances

than in all the threats of all the little people in Ireland.

Yeah.

I thought that there was something between them.

I'd say, Holmes, that's about Henken kissing the blind stone

at noon tomorrow.

Do you suppose there's nothing all about that?

That there are forces at work here that I don't like.

Well, I think what's in it that you and I will be at the blind stone

at noon tomorrow.

It's possible that the bet made tonight is all part of a definite plan

and I have a feeling that the bet is still on.

It's got a windy up here today, old fellow, at the top of the tower, isn't it?

Yes, it's just past noon.

I wonder if that man, Henken, is going to keep the terms of his death.

We'll soon learn.

In the meanwhile, are you sure that you wouldn't like to change your mind

and kiss the blind stone?

No, no, no.

Quite sure.

There they come now.

Yes.

Henken was his partner, Mr. Popperon.

The bet is on Watson.

The day you're gentlemen.

Oh, oh, oh.

It's my friends throughout the night.

Well, I see you're going through the bet, son.

Oh, yes.

If we stick his mind in the 10 pounds of mine.

No, I didn't become humorous to Henken.

No, she didn't.

I'm afraid I'm rather in disgrace from my behavior last night.

Well, he made me go around and see that way to fellow that I had.

I offered him money, but he wouldn't take it.

And did you offer him an apology?

Apologize?

Too late, huh?

I should say now.

Well, come on.

Let's get this stupid fast over with.

Hey, are you sure your nerves can stand it, Jeffrey?

It's a drop of a hundred feet or more below you.

Don't worry about me, Michael.

Just go onto my ankle, tighten it and then let go.

I'll climb onto the parapher.

There we are.

Now hold on to my feet, Michael.

Allow me gently.

Huh?

I'm holding you, Jeffrey.

The lower of my head.

Yeah.

Right, you are, Jeffrey.

Good stuff.

I wouldn't do that for a hundred pounds, sliding head first on a vertical wall.

That's not my goal.

I can use the stones.

Oh, his boots.

They're slipping through my fingers.

I can't hold it.

Give it to him.

A city.

Pull under him.

Hold on to him.

Oh, he's gone.

I just couldn't hold him.

Away.

Heavens.

No man could survive that drop.

Mr. Cochrane.

You deliberately let your partner slip to his death.

This is murder.

Yeah.

But I don't understand it.

A strong man.

Well, she just vanishes her hands like a greasy...

Let me see your hands, Mr. Cochrane.

This is dreadful.

dreadful.

Now squeeze on your hands.

Reese.

And with a fake trace of book blacking.

Good lord, Holmes.

That means Watson.

But someone knowing that Hankin was going to kiss the dynasty's own smear his boots

with grease.

So that he would slip out of the grass for whoever was hoping him.

A clever, never-to-be indirect, long-distance murder as ever I've encountered.

You hear the remainder of Doc Watson's story in just a second, so I'm going to remind you

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because all Petrie wine is good wine.

But Dr. Watson, this is quite a story you're telling us tonight.

What happened next?

I suppose you went down into the castle grounds and lived for dead man's body.

What are we trying to list about?

Tell with your apologies, but curiously uncooperative.

It refused to let us search and insisting that the police be called first.

And so, Mr. Bato, half an hour after the tragedy,

Holmes and I found ourselves standing in the Pallet Police Station

as we told the story to the local sergeant.

Ah, short distance, be prayers, Mr. Holmes.

It's just a terrible story you've told me.

Tomorrow I'll be after a restaurant, Sean O'Flaherty.

Sean O'Flaherty?

He's a waiter at the end, the one who sings.

That he is, that he is, and he sings like a breath of spring.

Ah, sorry to see him hang.

Not to you, but no proof that he was responsible for the murder.

Proof your say, sir.

But I can't arrest a big man, a factory man like Mr. Carper, can I?

Or a fine lady like Mr. Hank,

but you can't arrest a man without any evidence of guilt?

Oh, I can't, can't I?

Then suppose I tell you that Sean O'Flaherty cleansed the boards

at the hotel where Mr. Hank had been staying.

Does he?

Then he had the perfect opportunity for the greasing of Hankin's boots this morning.

And we know he had a motive for harming him.

You're right, sir.

And for what I have heard of the dead man's behavior last night,

half a dozen people could have heard him make the bet

that he'd kissed the bloody stone today.

Sean O'Flaherty's our man.

And I'll have to arrest a man tomorrow.

But could haven't, man, aren't you going to do something today?

A murderer is at large.

Today is the same factory today.

Oh, I should let the poor fellow have the day.

It is a, oh, he won't run away.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Will you come back with me to the castle and sit for the body?

There are a few to let me do it alone.

On St. Patrick's Day?

That I will not.

We would need a crew of helpers.

And where will I be after getting them on the best in St. Patrick's Day?

No, no.

I'll do that tomorrow, too.

No, up to there's a day for celebrate.

Oh, your methods of sound misogyny.

Do they know, sir?

No, they have threatened about me.

Just enjoy yourself today.

Tomorrow we'll see what can be done about it.

Well, good day to you, gentlemen.

That's my soul.

I never seen such a happy, lucky, policeman in my life.

It's insuriating.

Do you want me to have a lot of exciting Hankins?

Yeah, I can get to the bottom of this.

Oh, what are you going to do now, huh?

Please, won't help us.

Then we'll take the Lord into our own hands.

I think we'll start off by going to the hotel

and seeing what we can find out from Sean O'Flatty.

As I was going to Belly,

you're a day I will remember

for the view the lights and lights

is 150 of November with a moring.

Who a day and a moring, you do.

But Daddy, oh, your honor,

should be after speaking to me, Sean O'Flatty, perhaps.

Yes, Sean.

Did you know that Mr. Hankin,

the man who struck you last night, was dead?

Dead.

Well, if you were a man,

deserve to be beneath the side

to his Jeffrey Hankin himself.

A mean ugly man.

This needs to be praised that he's gone.

How to be dicey?

You will murder.

Murdered?

With the dead, I'm not surprised to hear it.

Who murdered him, sir?

I've been on with the precinct to think that, uh,

you are the culprit.

Me, self.

Well, how would I be after murdering the man, sir,

when I don't even know how he died?

He died when he fell from the top of Blonic Castle

as he was trying to kiss the stone.

He fell because Mr. Cochran, his partner,

couldn't hold on to his feet.

His boots have been greased.

And we know that you have been cleaning his boots, Sean.

That I have, sir.

I cleaned him this very morning.

But I put no grease on him if that's what you'd be

after suggesting.

I'm suggesting nothing.

I'm trying to establish a few facts.

Do you know Kathleen the barmaid?

Oh, and why shouldn't I?

I know, sir.

She should be a new wife before the winter sets in.

Yeah, she pronounced a curse on the dead man last night,

just after he had knocked you down.

It's possible that, uh, she missed you.

Yes, you come, sir.

Sean the darling.

What did the fine gentleman do in here?

Oh, Kathleen.

They've come to ask me questions about the death of Mr. Hankin.

You fell off Blonic Castle today and got himself murdered, is he?

The same speed praised.

But, uh, what is that to do with you, my darling?

But the gentleman told me that the village police think

that I might have greased his boots, so he slipped with death.

The village police is as stupid as my father's big sow.

If Mr. Hankin fell to his death today because his boots were greased,

I can tell you who did it.

And who?

The little people.

I wore a Mr. Hankin last night that the little people would be after him.

He insulted the irony.

Oh, come, come, come, come, my dear.

You don't cherish the expected to believe in the little people.

And why not?

You don't know.

We have them here.

You don't know.

Say the fairies, or he did, but I know different.

I've seen them.

When I was a slip of a girl, close to what I lived, there was a rat.

That's a fort, you know.

And the rat was a fairies fort.

We never dared touch it with a spater or put down a tree growing on it

or carry away a stone.

We put our ear to the ground at night.

And we could hear the fairing music rising up from under the ground.

Oh, there are gentle people.

Most of the time.

But they graced the boots of a man like Mr. Hankin if they didn't like them.

That's the word you're honor.

Holmes, I'm certain that we're wasting our time here.

I tell you so, Watson.

You've got the whole thing turned on the greasing of those boots.

If only I could have the boots in my hands.

If only I could make laboratory tests.

But until that adult of a police...

But, of course!

I have it, Watson.

You have what, huh?

The answer, I hope.

Get hold of Mrs. Hankin and Mr. Cochran.

Have them meet me in the blanished-toned tower in half an hour.

You were you going to the police station to try and convince the sergeant

that even at some Patrick's dates his duty to help me trap a murderer.

You know, Mr. Holmes, you're an alternate man.

It's better to send Patrick's day and yet you insist that we meet here

on the top of the body castle.

What do you think you can prove?

Moomer to Geoffrey Hankin.

First, but why do Molly and I have to be here?

Yes, Mr. Holmes.

And poor Geoffrey's body still lying somewhere below us.

Mrs. Hankin, Mr. Cochran.

I asked Dr. Watson to bring you here for good reason.

I assure you.

You ready, Watson?

Quite ready, Holmes.

Good, Sergeant.

Yes, sir.

You asked me if why I've assembled the three of you here.

I'm going to reconsider the claim.

I shall pay the part of the victim.

My friend, Dr. Watson, will represent you, Mr. Cochran.

Now, I straddle the fat of it.

So...

Now, what's in the hole under my feet?

I've got him home.

I'm going down the face of the wall.

Thank you.

Holmes, Holmes, hold tight to the wall.

Come on, push yourself back.

The murder is tight to get you.

Your boots are covered in grease.

Come away!

I might pause on the glider.

I've got him, Holmes.

I've got you, Holmes.

There you go.

There you go.

Oh, thank you.

You're welcome.

That was a near thing.

Devilish plot, Sergeant, and very carefully carried out.

My boots were ungreased when I entered the castle, and yet someone has been able to apply

grease to them, not my knowledge, with them the last few minutes.

Sure, and how is that possible, sir?

I don't know, Sergeant.

I must confess.

Holmes, you stumbled as you came up the darkened staircase.

Do you remember that?

That's true.

I shall be forgotten.

And you, Mrs. Hankin, and you, Mr. Cochran.

Well, kind of not to assist me to my feet.

An excellent opportunity to apply the grease.

Now we know that one of you two is the murder.

I'm going to have a jar of grease somewhere.

Now, Sergeant, will you search the lady while I search Mr. Cochran?

But this is ridiculous.

Of course it is.

How could we be guilty?

Well, if you're not guilty, you've got no objection to being searched.

But I've found my ward here in your post, Mrs. Hankin.

It's a jar of grease.

What?

Now what have you to say to yourself?

I can't you say, Sergeant, except that she engineered her husband's murder and tried to engineer mine.

Oh, no.

I knew nothing about Jeffy's murder.

Oh, Michael Darling, I swear to you.

Don't worry, my darling.

That's not the murder.

I'm telling you you're wrong, Mr. Holmes.

I...

I was the murderer.

Oh, no, Michael.

You mustn't sacrifice yourself for me.

I think this little play acting is done far enough, Mr. Cochran.

You have just offered us and what you think we will accept as a false confession.

But I've established the one thing I wish to know

that you love your late partner's wife and she you.

And proud to admit that, Mr. Holmes,

and now that she's a widow, I can say it to you often.

But what are you in playing?

That you murdered your partner.

But the grease on your own boots, sir.

I just found a jar of it, Mrs. Hankin, and back.

Oh, thank that, my dear Sergeant,

it was all part of my little plan.

As to the grease on my boots, I can visit my place to damn myself.

Just as I implanted the jar of grease in your bag, Mrs. Lyons.

A fraud accomplished two ends.

It forced you, Mr. Cochran, into a portrayal of your love.

But what was more important,

it proved from what Dr. Watson's natural reactions were

that a man holding the grease boots could not fail

to realize that fact at once.

You've brazenly committed murder

before our very eyes, Mr. Cochran.

Hoping to appear as an innocent victim of another's plot.

Your theory is an ingenious one, sir.

But how can you prove it?

I can claim that my hands are unusually insensitive.

Not the delicate fingers of a doctor like your friend.

Yes, he's right, sir.

How can you prove it?

When, with your kind cooperation, sergeant,

we find the body of Mr. Hanken and examine it.

I shall study his boots.

If the grease was applied at the hotel,

as it would have been if the former flat you'd done it,

the boots will reveal dust from the walk here.

If there is no dust, the grease must have been applied

as you grasped your partner's boots

with grease-snared hands, Mr. Cochran.

You should know best what might test the review.

I mean, Sergeant, grab him.

It is that car.

Oh, my God, don't!

Please don't!

We're buying money, my darling.

No!

Great.

Coffee.

He jumped off the carpet.

Now, Mr. Holmes, you can see that I was right, sir.

Wasn't I?

What do you mean, Sergeant?

In waiting until tomorrow to get the search party.

Now we can be after finding both bodies at the one time.

Well, Doctor, that was really an unusual story.

No, I get a bit of a shudder when I think of that afternoon at the castle.

I don't blame you.

Doctor, you know something, early this evening,

I said that if I ever got to Ireland,

I'd certainly want to kiss the Blarney Stone, remember?

Well, I've changed my mind.

I know more want to hang by my heels, kiss that stone,

and well, just let's forget.

But, my boy, I don't forget, if you kiss that stone,

you get to give to eloquence.

You'd be the most convincing fellow in the world.

So?

So, well, whenever you talked about Petri wine,

you would really do people a favor,

because they wouldn't be able to resist trying it.

Oh, talking about Petri wine isn't important.

The best way to determine just how good Petri wine really is

is to taste it.

One sip is all the proof you need.

That's because the Petri family has developed

the art of wine making to a truly fine point.

They've been making wine for generations.

And all of the things the Petri family knows about turning

luscious, sun-ripened grapes into fragrant, delicious wine

have been handed on down in the family

from father to son, from father to son.

That's why whenever you want a swell wine,

for any occasion, you can't go wrong with a Petri wine,

because Petri took time to bring you good wine.

Well, Dr. Watson, what do you show our cone story?

Are you planning to tell us a story?

Well, now let me see.

Next week, Mr. Bartel, I'm going to tell you a story

in which that arch criminal professor Maria

paid the most important part.

It feels with the theft of a famous painting

of a strange night that Sherlock Holmes and I spent

trapped in the interior of a giant metal vault

and of mysterious blood stains in empty room.

Tonight Sherlock Holmes' adventure was written by Dennis

Greene and Anthony Boucher, and was suggested by an

incident in this Arthur Conan Doyle story,

a case of identity.

Music is by Dean Fossler.

Mr. Rathbone appears through the courtesy of Metro

Baldwin Mayor and Mr. Bruce through the courtesy

of Universal Pictures, where they are now starring

in the Sherlock Holmes series.

The Petri wine company of San Francisco, California

invites you to tune in again next week,

same time, same station.

Sherlock Holmes comes to you from our Hollywood studio.

This is Harry Bartel saying good night for the Petri family.

For a solid hour of exciting mystery dramas,

listen every Monday on most of these same stations

at eight o'clock to Bulldog Drummond followed immediately

by Sherlock Holmes.

This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.