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Sherlock Holmes is back and so are we, as we enter the twilight stretch of the storied detective's career. When Watson returns to Baker Street to see his old friend, he is shocked to find that Holmes expects to be murdered tonight. It's all part of a trap, designed to catch Count Sylvius, who has stolen a precious Crown jewel. Holmes is back to his old antics, and as he begins to lay his trap, let his story help you lay your own way into a night of restorative sleep.
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Welcome to the Sherlock Holmes Bedtime Stories podcast. Each episode is a section of a classic Sherlock Holmes story, read in soothing tones and set to calming music to help you fall asleep.
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Sherlock Holmes Bedtime Stories — The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone, Part 1. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
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Before starting Epglyce, tell your doctor if you have a parasitic infection. Pay partnership with Lilly. Respect your time. Ask your doctor about Epglyce and visit Epglyce.com, or call 1-800-LilyRX, or 1-800-545-5979. Hello and welcome to the Sherlock Holmes Bedtime Stories podcast. Each episode is a section from a classic Sherlock Holmes story, with relaxing music to help you fall asleep. If you love the podcast and never miss an episode, please follow us on Spotify and Apple podcasts and leave a five-star rating. If our podcast has become a part of your bedtime routine, please consider supporting the show by clicking the link in the show notes. Our show is completely free. In part, thanks to support from listeners like you. There are options to give one time or on a monthly basis. So, sleep easier by clicking the Support This Podcast link in the show notes, and become a supporter today. And as always, if you're enjoying the pod, please spread the word.
Sharing with friends and family really does help. Thank you for joining us this evening. Now it's time to relax. Let your body fall into a comfortable position in your bed, and drift gently into a state of total relaxation with tonight's story. The adventure of the Mazarin Stone. Part 1. It was pleasant to Dr Watson to find himself once more in the untidy room of the first floor in Baker Street, which had been the starting point of so many remarkable adventures. He looked around him at the scientific charts upon the wall, the acid-chard bench of chemicals, the violin case, leaning in the corner, the coal scuttle, which contained of old, the pipes and tobacco. Finally, his eyes came round to the fresh and smiling face of Billy,
the young but very wise and tactful page who had helped a little to fill up the gap of loneliness and isolation, which surrounded the satanine figure of the great detective. It all seems very unchanged, Billy. You don't change either. I hope the same can be said of him. Billy glanced with some solicitude at the closed door of the bedroom. I think he's in bed in a sleep, he said. It was seven in the evening of a lovely summer's day, but Dr Watson was sufficiently familiar with the irregularity of his old friend's hours to feel no surprise at the idea. That means a case, I suppose. Yes, sir, he is very hard at it just now. I'm frightened for his health. He gets paler and thinner and he eats nothing.
When will you be pleased to dine, Mr Holmes? Mrs. Hudson asked. 730, the day after tomorrow, said he. You know his way when he is keen on a case. Yes, Billy, I know. He's following someone. Yesterday he was out as a workman looking for a job. Today he was an old woman. Fairly took me in, he did. And I ought to know his ways by now. Billy pointed with a grin to a very baggy parasol which leaned against the sofa. That's part of the old woman's outfit, he said. But what is it all about, Billy? Billy sank his voice as one who discusses great secrets of state. I don't mind telling you, sir, but it should go no farther. It's this case of the Crown Diamond. What the £100,000 burglary?
Yes, sir, they must get it back, sir. Why? We had the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary both sitting on that very sofa. Mr Holmes was very nice to them. He soon put them at their ease and promised he would do all he could. Then there is Lord Cantalmeer. Ah. Yes, sir. You know what that means? He's a stiffened, sir, if I may say so. I can get along with the Prime Minister and I have nothing against the Home Secretary who seemed a civil obliging sort of man. But I can't stand his lordship, neither can Mr Holmes sir. You see, he don't believe in Mr Holmes and he was against employing him. He'd rather he failed. And Mr Holmes knows it. Mr Holmes always knows whatever there is to know.
Well, we'll hope he won't fail and that Lord Cantalmeer will be confounded. But I say, Billy, what is that curtain for across the window? Mr Holmes had it put up there three days ago. We've got something funny behind it. Billy advanced and drew away the drapery which screened the alcove of the bare window. Dr Watson could not restrain a cry of amazement. There was a facsimile of his old friend. Dressing down and all, the face turned three quarters towards the window and downwards as though reading an invisible book while the body was sunk deep in an armchair. Billy detached the head and held it in the air. We put it at different angles so that it may seem more lifelike. I wouldn't dare touch it if the blind were not down, but when it's up you can see this from across the way.
We used something of the sort once before. Before my time said Billy. He drew the window curtains apart and looked out into the street. There are folk who watch us from over Yonder. I can see a fellow now at the window. Have a look for yourself. Watson had taken a step forward when the bedroom door opened and the long, thin form of homes emerged. His face pale and drawn, but his step and bearing as active as ever. With a single spring he was at the window and had drawn the blind once more. That will do Billy, said he. You were in danger of your life then my boy and I can't do without you just yet. Well Watson, it is good to see you in your old quarters once again. You come at a critical moment.
So I gather. You can go Billy. That boy is a problem Watson. How far am I justified in allowing him to be in danger? Danger of what homes? Of sudden death I'm expecting something this evening. Expecting what? To be murdered Watson? No, no, you are joking homes. Even my limited sense of humour could evolve a better joke than that. But we may be comfortable in the meantime, may we not? Is alcohol permitted? The gasagin and cigars are in the old place. Let me see you once more in the customary armchair. You have not, I hope, learned to despise my pipe and my lamentable tobacco. It has to take the place of food these days.
But why not eat? Because the faculties become refined when you starve them. Why surely as a doctor my dear Watson, you must admit that what your digestion gains in the way of blood supply is so much lost to the brain. I am a brain Watson. The rest of me is a mere appendix. Therefore it is the brain I must consider. But this danger homes? Yes, in case it should come off it would perhaps be as well that you should burden your memory with the name and address of the murderer. You can give it to Scotland Yard, with my love and a parting blessing. Silvius is the name Count Nagreto Silvius. Write it down, man. Write it down. 136 more side gardens northwest. Got it? What is it? What is it? It is a sign of the death of the murderer. It is a sign of the death of the murderer. It is a sign of the death of the murderer. Watson's honest face was twitching with anxiety. He knew only too well the immense risks taken by homes and was well aware that what he said was more likely to be understatement than exaggeration.
Watson was always the man of action and he rose to the occasion. Count me in homes I have nothing to do for a day or two. Your morals don't improve Watson. You have added fibbing to your other vices. You bear every sign of the busy medical man with calls on him every hour. Not such important ones, but can't you have this fellow arrested? Yes, Watson, I could. That's what worries him so. But why don't you? Because I don't know where the diamond is. Ah, Billy told me. The missing crown jewel. Yes, the great yellow mazerine stone. I've cast my net and I have my fish, but I have not got the stone. What is the use of taking them? We can make the world a better place by laying them by the heels.
But that is not what I'm thinking. It's the stone I want. And is this count silviest one of your fish? Yes, and he's a shark. He bites. The other is Sam Merton, the boxer. Not a bad fellow, Sam, but the counters used him. Sam's not a shark. He is a great big silly bullheaded gudgeon. But he is flopping about in my net all the same. I'm not a shark. But he is flopping about in my net all the same. Where is this count silviest? I've been at his very elbow all the morning. You've seen me as an old lady, Watson. I was never more convincing. He actually picked up my parasol for me once. By your leave, Madame, said he. Half Italian, you know, and with the southern graces of mana in the mood, but a devil incarnate in the other mood, life is full of whimsical happenings, Watson.
It might have been tragedy. Well, perhaps it might. I followed him to old Strauban Z's workshop in the minaries. Strauban Z made the air gun. A very pretty bit of work, as I understand. And I rather fancy it is in the opposite window at the present moment. I've seen the dummy. Of course, Billy showed it to you well. It may get a bullet through its beautiful head at any moment. Are Billy what is it? The boy had reappeared in the room with a card upon a tray. Holmes glanced at it with raised eyebrows and an amused smile. The man himself, I had hardly expected this. Grasp the nettle Watson, a man of nerve. Possibly you have heard of his reputation as a shooter of big game. It would indeed be a triumphant ending to his excellent sporting record
if he added me to his bag. This is a proof that he feels my toe very close behind his heel. Send for the police. I probably shall, but not just yet. Would you glance carefully out of the window Watson and see if anyone is hanging about in the street? Watson looked wearily round the edge of the curtain. Yes, there is one rough fellow near the door. That will be Sam Merton, the faithful but rather fatuous Sam. Where is this gentleman, Billy? In the waiting room, sir. Show him up when I ring. Yes, sir. If I am not in the room, show him in all the same.
Yes, sir. Watson waited until the door was closed and then he turned earnestly to his companion. Look here, Holmes. This is simply impossible. This is a desperate man who sticks at nothing. He may have come to murder you. I should not be surprised. I insist upon staying with you. You would be horribly in the way. In his way. No, my dear fellow, in my way. Well, I can't possibly leave you. Yes, you can, Watson. And you will. For you have never failed to play the game. I am sure you will play it to the end.
This man has come for his own purpose, but he may stay for mine. Holmes took out his notebook and scribbled a few lines. Take a cab to Scotland Yard and give this to you, Hall of the CID, come back with the police. The fellows arrest will follow. I'll do that with joy. Before you return, I may have just time enough to find out where the stone is. He touched the bell. I think we will go out through the bedroom. This second exit is exceedingly useful. I rather want to see my shark without his seeing me, and I have, as you will remember, my own way of doing it.
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