Sherlock Holmes - Twisted Lip

Petri Wine brings you

Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce and the new adventures of Clark Holmes

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

invite you to listen to Dr. Watson tell another exciting adventure he shared with his old friend

at Master Detective Sherlock Holmes

Before he starts, I can tell you something it's really worth knowing

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And now let's visit our good friend and host Dr. Watson

Good evening, Dr.

Good evening, Mr. Bartel

Draw pure usual chair, make yourself at home

But how about a glass of Sherry?

It'd be very nice.

Already for tonight's story, Dr.

Here's my boy. Here's your shirt

Thank you, sir.

My story begins on June 1889

My wife and I had spent a quiet evening at home, I remember

It was just about the hour that a man gives his first yaw and glances at the clock

The tranquillity of the scene was broken by the discordant jangling of our front doorbell

An emergency call for you, I suppose, Dr.

Not exactly, Mr. Bartel. It turned out to be a certain Mrs. Isowitner

An old friend of my wife should come to us in trouble

A husband, she told us, had been missing for 48 hours

And knowing him to be the victim of the shocking habit of taking opium

She was convinced that he was lying drugged and stupified

In some foul den amid the London waterfront

I suppose you went out to try to find him

Yes, Mr. Bartel, I did.

She told me that our husband had mentioned

Frequenting a place called the Bar of Gold in Upper Swanland Lane

So naturally that's where I began my search

I quickly located it and after ordering my cab to wait I entered the place

A strange sight met my eyes

Through the smoke-ridden gloom

I could catch a glimpse of bodies lying in strange, fantastic poses

As they smoked the pipes of death

Most of the unhappy creatures lay silently

But some muttered to themselves and others

Talked together in strange, low, monotonous voices

Their conversation coming in clutches

And then trailing off into silence

Each mumbling his own thoughts

And paying little attention or heed to the words of his neighbour

As I entered, an attendant hurried up to me with an opium pipe

On a supply of the drug

And back and made to an idiot

Master, may I hear?

I haven't come to stay here, my good man

I'm looking for a friend, Mr. Iso Wittner

No one by that name here?

My line going to set this place just the same

Please not to make trouble, ma'am

What's that?

Is that your Watson?

Wittner, thank heavens I've found you, ma'am

What time is it?

It's nearly 11

A what day?

What day?

Friday, June the 19th

Good Lord, I thought it was Wednesday

It is Wednesday, you're trying to confuse me

I knew it's Friday, your wife has been waiting two days for it

You're mixed up in your dates, what?

I've only been here a few hours

Three pipes, four pipes, I've get her many

I'll go home with you

Here, up, I'll get your hair

There, it's it

I have a cab waiting

I'm a sirson money

Will you settle up for me once?

Here, wait here for me

Stop calling it my excuse, my good fellow

Who are you and what do you want?

A word in your ear please

No, very well, what, what, what is it?

Give her to be a friend and join me outside

Pose

What an earthy you do here in the sky?

Be a cab waiting

Yes?

Then please use it to send you to the futile friend home

And if you fill up to it, I should also recommend that you send a note to the cab

And telling your wife that you're thrown in your lock with me

I'd be exceedingly glad to have it all topped with your

Yes, of course, I would spend it then

Conflute your business here, I'll share a par with you outside in about ten minutes

Be a cab

Well, no, it's busy, it's it's nearly

Is that you, hoes?

Yes, what's this, me?

No, just guys, it's one flood

Never recognize you if you haven't spoken to me just now

Is this the first to get friend?

Yes, here's good

Then, if it's start walking, I'll have a horse and cab waiting for me on the next street

What an earth you're doing in the bar of gold, huh?

Trying to get news of a missing man, you sign me

I'm in the midst of a very remarkable enquiry

And I'd hope to get a clue from the incoherent ramblings of those poor devils back there

No, there's the horse and cab under the street lamp on the corner

You'll come with me, won't you?

Of course, of course, if I can be in any use

I trust to come right as always of use

My room at the cedar has two beds in it

The cedar?

Yes, that's Mr. Olsenclerus, house and art present destination

It's nearly in Kent about seven minutes

And usually it doesn't hit quarters while I conduct my worries

Evening, Mr. Olsenclerus, everything all right?

Yes, thank you, John

Hey, get in, Watson

I just need you any more tonight, John

Here's half a crown for you

Look out for me tomorrow, about 11

My drama, Mr. Olsenclerus, good on you

Then I, John, fly, get up

Well, Holmes, if we have a seven-mile ride ahead of us

Perhaps you'll tell me about the case that you're working on

The Federal, Jack, but first take the range for a few minutes, will you?

I want to remove my makeup and take off my weave and become tall

Now to that, I'll tell you why we are headed for the kintish

Decide at this hour of the night

Watson, you have a grand gift of silence

It makes you invaluable as a companion

We've driven four miles and you haven't doubted a word

It wasn't easy, Holmes

I've been dying to question you

But I could see that you were preoccupied

Then I shall reward you with a clear and concise statement for my problem

Mr. Neville Sinclair, age 37, the father of two children

And an affectionate husband is missing

Let's house the seed of near-lear present destination last Monday

Four days ago, huh?

Yes, now why should an affectionate husband of a happy father disappear?

In a money trouble, I think not

His entire debts for a moment amount to 88 pounds

While he has 220 pounds standing to his credit

But the capital and counties bank

Who is the luck person to see him on Monday?

His wife

Let me tell you the story

He left his house for London rather early than usual

He was a business man

Yes, he has an interest in civil companies in London

But his wife does exactly what he does

But to continue

He left for London saying that he would bring his boy home a box of toy bricks

Now that the minister's chance is received a telegram

Chocked out his departure

Neville, the principal of considerable value, was waiting for her

At the offices of the Aberdeen shipping company

Aberdeen shipping where their officers were in Fresno Street

I drove by them tonight

Jack and Fresno Street branches out of Upper London Lane

Where the bar of gold is seen

Ah, now I am beginning to understand

Go on, go on, go on

Mr. Neville Sinclair took a train for London

And at exactly 4.35 on Monday last

Fronters of walking past the bar of gold

Suddenly she heard a cry

And looking up was horrified to see her husband affecting her

From a second-story window

Which skirt was you?

Pissed her off!

She there, it is her own free-world used for

And up, he was a prisoner

The window was open, and she distinctly saw his face

Which she described as being terribly educated

Really?

He waited his hands were frantically and then vanished

From the window so suddenly that it seemed to her

That he had been dragged back by some irresistible force from behind

Good, good

Once he got a point which struck her quick feminine eye

Was that although he wore the coat here for London

And he wore neither collar nor tie

Oh, what did you do?

Rushed down the steps into the bar of gold

And attempted to go up the staircase leading to the second floor

I suppose that oriental fellow that I walked tonight stopped her

Exactly, and then he pushed her out with dawns, slammed it after her

She rushed down the lane and a few moments later

Was lucky enough to meet a sergeant and too constable

She took him back with her to the bar of gold of course

Yes

And then he went with her to the room in which

Neral Saint Claire had glassed been seen

And of course there was no sign of him

In fact, on the whole floor there was no one to be found

Except the hideous deporned beggar who seemed to live there

And what Mrs. Saint Claire told me

It appears that the sergeant conducted the examination

Quite intelligent

You saw your asthma at this window, Mrs. Saint Claire?

I'm positive he started

And the lascus was no one's been upstairs this afternoon

He's probably lying

But let's see what this cripple fellow has to say for himself

You

What do you want with me? I ain't something I've been

Now you heard what this lady said

Did you see your asthma going this room a few minutes ago?

I didn't see nobody and I've been here all the afternoon

You living?

Yes

And you swear on it that no one's been in this room for the last few hours?

Yes I do

Mrs. Saint Claire

I know that you think you saw your asthma

But don't you suppose...

You're not on the table

Just a wooden boxman

But I know that you're inside it

There, see?

A lot of wooden bricks like kids play

My husband's been to London today especially to buy them for our sons

You can't just believe me now Sergeant

Don't think I can, Mom, I'll take another nap round

Where does this door lead to?

My bedroom

You won't find nothing in there

No, we'll look just the same

Hello

Love stains on this window, Edge

Fresh blood stains

How'd you account for that?

Well, I don't know nothing about it

And the window overlooks the ribbon

Just where the water's good and deep too

Nice place to tip a body out here

Come here, you

No, I ain't done nothing

You've got blood stains on your right sleeve

What do you got to say about that?

I'll cut my finger, see?

And then I went and opened the window later

That's how the blood got there

You think I was born yesterday?

Let's have a look in this chested drawers

Hello

Hello

Hello, close to these

Here are trousers, socks, shoes

Yes

Everything except the coat, eh?

Mrs. Sinclair, will you come in here, please, Mum?

What have you found, Sergeant?

These clothes

Are they your husband's mum?

Yes, they are!

What's happened to Rinsarket?

I'm afraid he's met with foul play, Mum

And this man knows what it's none of you want to talk

I don't know nothing of it

Tell you that, don't you?

Well, I'll arrest you in the name of the law

And I warn you that energy will save

And so what's in there, Sergeant?

I've arrested this cripple beggar

No, I'm not surprised

What have they been able to find out about him?

Supposingly little

His name is Hugh Boone

And he's a professional beggar, quite successful when I gather

His pathetic appearance subtracts

Great sympathy

There's a shock about him, Chair, and a pale face

that is disfigured by a horrible scar

which has twisted the outer edge of his upper lip

He was the last man to see him ever come clear alive, eh?

So, he could see him

The Laska Downstairs has been cross-examined relentlessly

But he swears that he has no knowledge of the crime

He's been in a furloughed of it

Oh, yes, sir, yes

And he then had the ebbing tide gave a fresh clue

Do you mean some sort of body was washed out?

No, his coat

What?

With every pocket stuffed with penneas and hapenes

421 penneas and 270 hapenes to be exact

There's no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide

But a human body was a different matter

Yes, there's a strong eddy between the house and the wall

It seems likely that the weighted coat had remained

when the stripped body had been carried away into the river

Oh, the other clothes were found in the room

Why would the body be dressed in a coat of love?

We can only summarize, old chef

But supposing that this man boom

A thrust levels in clear through the window and into the river

What would he do then?

Try and dispose of the tail-tail gun

Yes, that would be logical, wouldn't it?

He would see if the coat and be in the act of throwing it out of the window

when it would occur to him that it would float and not sink

So he loaded the pockets with coins to make it sink

Quite so

But he has little time

But he has hit this couple downstairs

when assistant care tried to toss her way up

You know, it's exceeded in getting as far as throwing the coat out

when the police arrived on the scene

Oh, it seems perfectly feasible

Well, they don't do it as a working hypothesis anyway

They will still care to disappear on Monday

And if we still don't know what he was doing in the opium then

What happened to him when he was up there?

Or where he is now

Oh, why, he'll boom that they go over the twisted lip

had to do with his disappearance

Ah, here we are about this nation

Oh, there's a light burning

assistant care must be waiting up for you

Yes, poor woman

I hate to return here that no news of our husband

but she's been brave, Watson, extremely brave

We may do everything we can to comfort her

Dr. Watson, I'm so grateful that you were able to come down and help your friend

Oh, I only hope that I can be of some help this isn't fair

I see that you have no good news for me at home

I'm afraid not

No, Ed

No

Thank heavens for that

Mr. Holmes, tell me honestly

Do you think it's nevertheless still alive?

Well, I...

Thank you now

Thank you and I don't

You think he's murdered?

Well, I don't say that but perhaps...

And on what day did he meet us there?

On Monday

Then perhaps Mr. Holmes, you can explain how I received a letter from you today

What?

Where is the letter from?

Yeah, let me see

This is a very crude writing on the envelope

Surely it's not your husband's hand?

No, but the writing in the letter is

This letter contained an enclosure

Yes, there was a ring, here's the ring

What does the letter say, Holmes?

There is, do not this frighten

All will come well

There is a huge error which it takes some little time to rectify, wait in patience

And it's sign level

Written in pencil on the fly leaf of a notebook

No, what a mark

Posted today engraves in by a man of a dirty tongue

The flap has been crumpled if I'm not mistaken by a man who has been showing tobacco

My husband must be alive, Mr. Holmes

This might be a clever forgery to pass off the track

But the city is ringing

Yes, it may have been crumpled

To handwriting and then the first mark

Might have been written on Monday and only posted today

I won't be discouraged, Mr. Holmes

Well, I have no wish to discredit you

I'm just trying to repractical

If your husband is alive and able to write letters

Why should he remain away from you?

I can't admit

He made no special remarks before leaving on Monday?

No, none

Except he was going to buy the wooden blocks

When you saw him at the bar of gold in Swandham Lane

Was the window open?

Yes

And he might have called you

He might

As I understand it he gave an enough titular cry a call for help

Yes, he read his hands

But it might have been a cry of surprise

A astonishment of the unexpected sight that you might have caused him to throw up his hand

And you thought that he was pulled back from the window

Yes, because he disappeared so abruptly

He might be back, might be

He might have

No, I can't think why

One last question

Your husband error shown signs of taking opium?

What?

No, never, Mr. Holmes

I'm certain the idea would have revoted him

Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair

As with the principal points I wanted to be clear on

And now what's my suggestion for the night we may have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow?

I hope you both sleep well

Good night, Mr. Holmes

Dr. Watson

Good night, Mrs. Dern

Keep up your courage

Good night, Mrs. Sinclair

We must hope for the best

The clouds seem lighter

Though I should not venture to say that danger is over

You'll hear the rest of Dr. Watson's story in just a second

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Just be sure you'll get Petrie

Petrie Sherry

Well, Dr. Watson, you and the great Sherry

I call them certainly deserved a good night's rest

Did you get it?

I did, Mr. Boutel

But Holmes made no attempt to sleep

As soon as we retire upstairs

He'd done the blue silk dressing gown

And then wondered about the room collecting pillows

From his bed, cushions from the sofa, and the arm chairs

With these, he could stick to the sort of eastern divan

And which, first of all, crossed the leg

With an ounce of shag to becko

And a box of matches laid out in front of him

He was all set for a session of thinking, I guess

And the dim light of the lamp

I saw him sitting there

And a bra pipe clenched in his teeth

His eyes fixed vacantly

On a corner of the ceiling

The blue smoke curling up from him

Silent, motionless

So he sat as I dropped off the sleep

And so he sat when I wake into the morning

To find the summer sun shining to the room

The pipe was still between his lips

The smoke still curled upward

And the room was full of a dense tobacco haze

But nothing remained of the heap of shag

Which I'd seen on the screen this night

Watson?

Wake Watson?

I'll tell you

20 minutes, so, past four

You're not Holmes, you

You're a bit of bear

Well, Charlie, I had to think

I couldn't alarm my brain the luxury of sleeping

You came from morning drive

Yes, sir, they are

I'll get dressed

Good

No one's stirring yet, but I know

With a stable boy's sleep

I'll have the horse and trap up

No time at all

Oh, who are you going?

The present

The visit you boon

The man with a twisted lip

Holmes, you're

You're unusually excited

What's up?

What's on your mind?

I want to test a little theory

I think Watson that you are now standing in the presence

Of one of the most absolute fools of Europe

I deserve to be kicked from here

The churning cross, but I think

I have the key to the affair

Oh, what is it?

In the bathroom?

Why?

You're joking, though

No, I just didn't ever remove it

It's in my coat-pucket now

I can get dressed, old chap

And we'll drive into the prison and see whether my key fits the lock

Oh, good morning, Mr. Holmes

Doctor Watson

You'll see what's on your mind

You're a couple of early birds and I must say

Here's Constable, we're searching for the proverbial word

Who's on duty?

Inspector Brightstreets, sir

Oh, oh, here he is now

Good morning, bad street

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Mr. Holmes

Good morning, Doctor

Good morning, Inspector

What can I do for your gentlemen?

He called about you boon the begaman who

is chopped with being concerned in the disappearance

of Mr. Neville St. Clare, you haven't here?

Oh, yes Mr. Holmes, he's in the cells

I'll take it to him

Follow me with your gentlemen

What kind of a prisoner is he being, Inspector?

Oh, he hasn't given us any trouble.

He's a dirty devil.

It's as much as we can do to make him wash his hands.

His face is as black as a ticker.

He has an aversion to washing, hasn't he?

Yeah, yes, Mr. Holmes.

Well, once his face has been settled,

he'll have a regular prison bath.

And when you see him, I think you'll agree with me that he needs it.

And there we are.

Eh, this is his cell.

He's still asleep.

Lord, what a...

What a filthy old, post-civil of him, fella.

Yes, he's a beauty, isn't he?

Eh, what do you mean, Mr. Holmes?

Please, Inspector.

Well, he certainly needs a wash.

Yes, I had an idea that he might...

That's why I brought this sponge along.

Oh, so that was the key that you found in the bathroom.

Oh, he ought to find one, Mr. Holmes, and no mistake.

Boy, it's a bring a sponge along for?

I'm sure he is.

Is there any water in the cell?

Eh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

In the table, yeah.

I set the sponge in the water, a cell,

and then applied to the prisoner's face.

Which scot is conviction-sreet-shade, like a underneather?

And the scot is leopard's disappear.

Oh, you two intimacy...

I'll tear this mop over here, and I think we'll find it a way.

Yes, Comrade.

That's right.

Ah, let me introduce you to Mr. Nubble-Saint-Claire,

a plea in the county of Kent.

Good Lord, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Missingman, all right?

I recognize him from the photographs.

All right.

I'm never some care.

What am I charged with?

We're making a way with Mr. Neville's sake.

Oh, no, you can't be charged with that.

This will make a case of attempted suicide of it.

Well, since I'm the Missingman,

then it's obvious that no crime has been committed

and therefore I'm illegally detained.

No crime, but a very great error has been committed.

You would have done better to have trusted your wife.

There wasn't only my wife, it was a children.

I could better have known that their father was a common beggar.

Now you've exposed me.

What can I do?

Well, if you leave it called a rule on to clear this matter up,

so you can hardly avoid newspaper publicity.

But if you're perfectly honest with us now,

I'm sure the Inspector and Mr. Holmes won't be too hard on you.

No, Mr. St. Clair.

Inspector Bradstreet will, I'm sure,

make notes on the information that you give us

and submit them to the proper authorities.

But now, sir, your story, please.

Why have you been posing as cubone of crippled girls?

The twisted lip.

Well, it's a simple enough story.

Some years ago I was a newspaper reporter.

One day my editor wanted an article on begging in the London Metropolis.

But you thought the best way to get your effect

was to scare yourself as a beggar.

Yes, I'd been an actor in my use in it.

It wasn't hard for me to adopt a convincing disguise.

But that was the point where all my troubles started.

On that first day I sat in the London streets.

I found to my amazement that I received no less than 26 shillings and fort honors

as much as your weekday salary as a reporter.

I imagine.

Yes, Mr. Holmes.

Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down

to a hard-wish work at two-pound week

when I knew that I could earn as much in a couple of days

by smearing my face with paint,

laying my cap on the ground and sitting still.

Only one man knew my secret.

The last girl at the bar of gold,

an upper swan to blame, eh?

Yes, Mr. Holmes.

Mm-hmm.

Every morning I had emerged from there dressed as a beggar.

And in the evenings I returned and transformed myself

into a well-dressed man about Tom.

He had always well-paid for his rooms.

And what I'd needed that my secret was safe in his position.

When you got married, you couldn't bring yourself

to confide in your wife, I suppose.

No, I couldn't.

My wife knew that I had a business in the city.

She little knew what.

When you saw your wife from the window last month,

you quickly changed back into the character of the beggarized girls.

Yes, Mr. Holmes, of course.

And then waited my coat and threw it into the river.

Mm-hmm.

Well, I don't think there's anything else I need to explain.

Is there anything?

One point.

The signet ring that you sent your wife.

What a lie.

I knew that she'd be worried.

So I gave it to the last girl at a moment when no constable was watching me

together with a hastily scribbled note.

That note only reached her last night.

Mr. Sinkler.

Last night?

Oh, Catherine.

What a dreadful week she must have spent.

And the police have been watching that, Laska.

You probably found it difficult to post the letter for you

without being spotted.

Yes, I was in mind she gave it to a sailor customer of his to post.

A sailor who chewed tobacco and had a dirty thumb.

Mm-hmm.

Yes, I think all the ends are tied off very neatly.

Now, one last question, Mr. Sinkler.

Have you ever been prosecuted for begging?

Oh, many times.

But what was affine to me?

It's got the stop here and now, Mrs. Sinkler.

If the picture does this thing up, there must be no more of you boon the beggar.

I swear it.

And you must tell your wife the truth at once.

If you've done that a long time ago, you'd have saved both of yourselves

a very great deal of miseries.

I shall tell her everything.

Well, Mr. Holmes, we're very much obliged to you if I haven't cleared this matter up.

I wish I knew how you reached your results, though.

Well, in this case, my good inspector, I reached them by sitting upon fine pillows

and consuming an ounce of shaggy tobacco.

I only wish that all my problems might be solved, so come to them.

Doctor, that was some story.

Imagine arresting a man for committing a murder.

And then finding out that he's the fellow who's supposed to be dead.

You said it.

Boy, being a detective sure has its surprises.

Nothing like that ever happens to me.

Oh, come, come, come, come, come.

One would believe to hear you talk that you need a very uneventful life.

Oh, but I do, Doctor, I do.

Why, I never get any surprises.

Look, I tell our friends that Petri wine is always good wine.

And what happens?

Oh, what does happen?

Everybody agrees it's good wine. That's that.

Well, it just got to be.

After all, the Petri family has been making wine for generations.

Wine making is their heritage.

A heritage passed on down from father to son, from father to son,

from generation to generation.

The Petri family knows full well the art of turning luscious,

sun-wiping grapes into fragrant, delicious wine.

And because the making of Petri wine is a family affair,

you can be sure that the name Petri on a bottle of wine really stands for something.

It's your assurance that every drop of wine in that bottle is good wine.

No matter what type wine you prefer, you'll never go wrong with a Petri wine

because Petri took time to bring you good wine.

Well, Doctor Watson, what new Sherlock Holmes adventure are you planning to tell us next week?

Well, now let me see.

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

and of sudden death of struck without warning.

I call it the strange adventure, the uneasy, easy chair.

The Night Sherlock Holmes adventure was adapted by Dennis Green and Anthony Boucher

from Sartre the Conan Doyle story, a man with a twisted lip.

Music is by Dean Fostler.

Mr. Rathbone appears through the courtesy of Metropolitan Mayor

and Mr. Bruce through the courtesy of Universal Pictures,

where they are now starring in the Sherlock Holmes series.

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 studios.

This is Harry Bartel saying goodnight for the Petri family.