Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet - Chapters Three and Four | Full Audiobook

0:00 Welcome back to another episodic audiobook presentation of Sherlock Holmes. In this series, each chapter brings the classic tales to life, unfolding the mystery, atmosphere, and adventure that have captivated readers for generations. Before we begin, a brief note. This presentation of Sherlock Holmes is a modernized retelling of the original Canon. The cases remain faithful to the stories that generations have loved, while the language and structure have been carefully refined to create a smoother, more immersive listening experience for today's audience.

0:41 What you are about to hear is not a change to the mysteries themselves, but a restoration of their flow, allowing the world of Sherlock Holmes to unfold clearly for the modern ear. And now we return to the in the first case, Book 1A, Study in Scarlet, Chapter 3, The Loriston Gardens mystery. I must admit I was quite taken aback by this new demonstration of my companions practical theories. My admiration for his analytical skills grew immensely, yet a lingering doubt persisted in my mind that the entire scene might have been staged to impress me, though I couldn't fathom why he would bother.

1:28 As I glanced at him, he had finished reading the note and his eyes had taken on a vacant, dull look that indicated he was deep in thought. How on earth did you figure that out? I asked. Figure out what? He replied irritably. Why, That he was a retired Sergeant of Marines. I have no time for trivial matters, he replied curtly, then softened with a smile. Forgive my abruptness. You interrupted my train of thought, but perhaps that's for the best. So you really couldn't tell that man was a Sergeant of Marines?

2:10 No, not at all. It's easier to recognize than to articulate. Why. If someone asked you to prove that 2 + 2 = 4, you might struggle to explain, yet you're certain of it. Even from across the street I noticed a large blue anchor tattooed on the back of his hand that suggested a nautical background, yet he carried himself with a military bearing and had the regulation side whiskers. There you have the Marine. He exuded a sense of self importance and an air of authority. Surely you noticed how he held his head and swung his cane?

2:51 A steady, respectable middle-aged man. All of which led me to conclude he was a Sergeant. Amazing, I exclaimed. Ordinary, Said Holmes, though his expression suggested he was pleased by my evidence. Surprise and admiration. I mentioned earlier that there were no criminals. It seems I might have been mistaken. Take a look at this. He tossed me the note delivered by the commissioner. Good heavens, I exclaimed as I scanned it. This is dreadful. It does appear somewhat unusual. He replied with composure.

3:32 Would you mind reading it aloud to me? Here is the letter I read to him. My dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, An unfortunate incident occurred last night at 3:00 Loriston Gardens, just off Brixton Rd. Our officer on patrol noticed a light there around 2:00 in the morning and since the house is unoccupied, he suspected something was wrong. He found the door ajar and in the front room, which is devoid of furniture, he discovered the body of a well dressed gentleman. The cards in his pocket identified him as Enoch J Drebber, Cleveland, OH, USA.

4:17 There was no sign of robbery nor any clue as to how the man met his end. Blood stains were present in the room, yet there was no wound on his body. We are baffled as to how he ended up in the vacant house. Indeed, the entire situation is perplexing. If you can visit the house before noon, you'll find me there. I've left everything as it is until I hear from you. Should you be unable to come, I will provide more detailed information and I would greatly appreciate your insights on the matter. Yours faithfully.

4:53 Tobias Gregson. Gregson is the sharpest of the Scotland Yard detectives, my friend observed. He and Lestrade are the best of a mediocre bunch. They're both quick and energetic, but terribly conventional. They're also quite competitive with each other, like rival performers. If they both get involved in this case, it should be entertaining. I was struck by how casually he spoke. Surely we can't waste any time? I exclaimed. Should I call a cab for you? I'm not sure if I'll go. I'm the laziest person alive when the mood strikes, though I can be quite active when I choose.

5:37 But this is exactly the kind of opportunity you've been waiting for, my dear friend. What difference does it make to me? Even if I solve the whole thing, you can bet Gregson, Lestrade and their colleagues will take all the credit. That's the downside of being an unofficial figure. But he's asking for your help. Yes, he knows I'm his superior and admits it to me, though he'd rather cut out his tongue than confess it to anyone else. Still, we might as well take a look. I'll figure it out on my own terms.

6:15 If nothing else, I might get a laugh out of it. Let's go. He shrugged on his overcoat, his previous apathy replaced by a burst of energy. Grab your hat. He instructed. You want me to come along? Yes, unless you have something better to do. Moments later we were both in a handsome cab racing down Brixton Rd. The morning was foggy and overcast, A dull veil draped over the rooftops like a reflection of the muddy streets below. My companion was in high spirits, chatting away about Cremona, violins and the distinctions between a Stradivarius and an Amati.

6:59 Meanwhile, I remained silent, the dreary weather and the sombre nature of our task weighing on my mood. You don't seem very focused on the matter at hand, I finally said, cutting into Holmes's musical musings. No data yet, He replied. It's a grave mistake to form theories before you have all the evidence. It skews the judgement. You'll have your information soon, I said, gesturing with my hand. This is Brixton Road, and that's the house, unless I'm very much mistaken. Indeed it is. Stop, driver, stop.

7:43 Though we were still about 100 yards away, he insisted we get out and walk the rest of the way #3 Loriston Gardens had a foreboding and threatening appearance. It was one of four houses set slightly back from the street, with two occupied and two vacant. The empty ones stared out with three rows of desolate windows, blank and cheerless except for the occasional to let sign that clung the grimy glass like a cataract. A small garden dotted with a sparse array of unhealthy plants separated each house from the street.

8:24 A narrow yellowish path, seemingly made of clay and gravel cut through the garden. The entire area was soggy from the previous night's rain. A three foot brick wall topped with wooden rails boarded the garden and leaning against it was a sturdy police constable surrounded by a small group of onlookers who crane their necks and strain their eyes, hoping in vain to glimpse the activity inside. I expected Sherlock Holmes to immediately rush into the house and dive into the mystery, yet nothing seemed further from his mind.

9:00 With a nonchalant air that struck me as almost affected given the circumstances, he strolled up and down the pavement, gazing idly at the ground, the sky, the houses across the street, and the line of railings. After completing his examination, he moved slowly along the path, or rather the strip of grass beside it, his gaze fixed intensely on the ground. Twice he paused and once I noticed a smile cross his face, accompanied by a satisfied exclamation. The wet, clay rich soil bore numerous footprints, yet with the police traipsing back and forth, I couldn't fathom how he expected to glean any useful information.

9:51 Still, given the remarkable demonstrations of his perceptive abilities I'd witnessed, I had no doubt he could discern much that eluded me. At the entrance of the house, we were greeted by a tall, pale man with flaxen hair clutching a notebook. He hurried forward and shook my companion's hand with enthusiasm. It's truly generous of you to come, he said. I've ensured everything remains untouched. Except that, my friend replied, gesturing toward the path. A Stampede of Buffalo couldn't have made a bigger mess.

10:33 I trust, however, that you formed your conclusions, Gregson. Before allowing this, I've been preoccupied with matters inside the house, the detective responded evasively. My colleague Mr. Lestrade is here. I had depended on him to handle this matter. Holmes glanced at me, raising his eyebrows with a sardonic twist. With two capable men like you and Lestrade on the scene, there won't be much left for anyone else to uncover. He remarked. Gregson rubbed his hands together with a self satisfied air.

11:15 I believe we've done everything possible. He replied. It's an odd case though, and I knew it would pique your interest. You didn't arrive here by cab, did you? Sherlock Holmes inquired. No Sir. Nor did Lestride, no Sir. Then let's go examine the room. He said, making this seemingly offhand comment as he strode into the house, followed by Gregson, whose face showed his surprise. A short, bare and dusty hallway led to the kitchen and other service areas. 2 doors opened off it, one to the left and one to the right.

12:00 One of these doors had clearly been shut for many weeks. The other led to the dining room, the very place where the mysterious incident had taken place. Homes entered, and I followed, feeling that subdued heaviness in my heart that the presence of death always brings. It was a large square room, appearing even more expansive due to the complete lack of furniture. The walls were covered in garish wallpaper, though it was marred in spots by mildew, and here and there large strips had peeled away, revealing the yellow plaster beneath.

12:42 Directly across from the door stood A flashy fireplace topped with a mantelpiece made to look like white marble. In one corner of it was the stub of a red wax candle. The lone window was so filthy that the light filtering through was dim and uncertain, casting a dull grey hue over everything, further deepened by the thick layer of dust that blanketed the entire room. I took in all these details later. At that moment, my focus was fixed on the single, grim, unmoving figure stretched out on the floorboards, it's vacant, lifeless eyes staring up at the stained ceiling.

13:25 It was a man, perhaps 43 or 44 years old, of average height, broad shouldered, with tightly curled black hair and a short, bristly beard. He wore a heavy broadcloth, frock coat and waistcoat, light coloured trousers and a pristine collar and cuffs. A well brushed top hat lay on the floor beside him. His hands were clenched, his arms flung wide and his legs were entangled as if his final struggle had been a fierce one. On his rigid face was an expression of horror and it seemed to me of hatred unlike anything I had ever seen on a human face.

14:11 This malignant and terrifying grimace combined with his low forehead, blunt nose and jutting jaw gave the deceased and oddly simian ape like appearance which was heightened by his twisted, unnatural posture. I've encountered death in countless guises, yet never has it struck me with such dread as it did in that dim, grimy room overlooking one of the bustling veins of suburban London. Lestrade, as wiry and sharp eyed as ever, stood by the door, acknowledging my companion and me with a nod. This case is going to cause quite a stir, Sir, He remarked.

14:57 It's unlike anything I've ever seen, and I've been around the block. No leads? Gregson inquired. None whatsoever. Lestrade confirmed. Sherlock Holmes moved to the body, kneeling to scrutinize it closely. You're certain there's no wound? He asked, gesturing to the many droplets and splashes of blood scattered around. Absolutely. Both detectives exclaimed. Then this blood must belong to another person, likely the perpetrator, assuming a murder has occurred. It reminds me of the Van Jansen case in Utrecht back in 34.

15:40 Do you recall that one, Gregson? No, Sir, You should look it up, it's worth your attention. There is nothing new under the sun. Everything has been done before. As he spoke, his agile fingers darted everywhere, feeling, pressing, unbuttoning, examining, while his eyes held that distant look I had already noted. The examination was so swift that one might not have guessed its thoroughness. Finally he sniffed the dead man's lips and glanced at the soles of his patent leather shoes. He hasn't been moved at all.

16:19 He asked. Only as much as was necessary for our examination. You can take him to the Mortuary now, he said. There's nothing more to be learned. Gregson had a stretcher and four men ready. At his signal, they entered the room, lifted the stranger and carried him out. As they raised him, a ring clattered to the floor and rolled away. Lestrade snatched it up, staring at it with puzzled eyes. A woman has been here, He exclaimed. It's a woman's wedding ring. He held it out on the palm of his hand as he spoke.

17:02 We all gathered around him, our eyes fixed on the object. There was no mistaking it, a simple gold band that had once graced a bride's finger. This makes things more complicated. Gregson remarked, as if they weren't tangled enough already. Are you certain it doesn't actually simplify them? Holmes interjected, Staring at it won't reveal anything new. What did you find in his pockets? We've got everything here, Gregson replied, gesturing to a collection of items scattered on one of the lower steps of the staircase.

17:43 A gold watch #97,163 by Baraud of London. A heavy, solid gold Albert chain. A gold ring with a Masonic emblem. A gold pin shaped like a bulldog's head with Ruby eyes. A Russian leather card case containing cards for Enoch J Drebber of Cleveland, matching the EJD on the linen. No wallet, but loose change amounting to 7 lbs Thirteen. A pocket edition of Boccaccio's Decameron was found, with Joseph Stangerson's name inscribed on the flyleaf. There were also 2 letters, one addressed to EJ Drebber and the other to Joseph Stangerson.

18:27 What was the address on them? American Exchange Strand to be held until collected. Both letters are from the Gillon Steamship Company discussing the departure of their ships from Liverpool. It seems clear that this unfortunate man was planning to return to New York. Have you looked into this man, Stangerson? I acted immediately, Sir, Gregson replied. Advertisements have been placed in all the newspapers, and one of my men has gone to the American Exchange, though he hasn't reported back yet. Have you contacted Cleveland?

19:10 We sent a telegram this morning. What did you ask? We outlined the situation and requested any information that might assist us. You didn't ask for details on any particular point that seemed crucial. I inquired about Stangerson, nothing else. Is there no specific detail upon which this entire case seems to depend? Won't you send another telegram? I've said everything I need to. Gregson replied, his tone tinged with irritation. Sherlock Holmes chuckled softly, seemingly on the verge of a comment when Lestrade, who had been in the front room while we conversed in the hallway, re entered with a self satisfied air, rubbing his hands together.

20:00 Mr. Gregson, he announced. I've just uncovered something of utmost importance, something that would have been missed without my thorough examination of the walls. His eyes gleamed with excitement, clearly pleased to have gained an advantage over his colleague. Come here, he urged, bustling back into the room which felt lighter now that it's grim occupant was gone. Stand right there. He struck a match against his boot and held it up to the wall. Look at that, he declared triumphantly. I had noticed that the wallpaper had peeled away in places.

20:44 In this particular corner, a large section had come off, revealing a yellow patch of rough plaster. Scrawled across this bare surface in blood red letters was a single word. Rach, what do you make of this? The detective exclaimed, his voice filled with the pride of a showman unveiling a spectacle. This was missed because it lay in the darkest corner of the room, a place no one thought to check. The murderer wrote it in their own blood. Look at this smear where it dripped down the wall. That rules out suicide, no doubt about it.

21:25 But why choose that corner to write in? I'll tell you. See that candle on the mantelpiece? It was lit at the time. If it was burning, this corner would have been the brightest spot on the wall, not the darkest. And now that you've found it, what does it mean? Gregson asked, his tone dismissive. Mean it means. The writer intended to spell out the name Rachel, but was interrupted before finishing. Mark my words, when this case is solved, you'll find a woman named Rachel is involved. Laugh all you want, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

22:06 You might be smart and clever, but when all is said and done, the old hound is still the best. I sincerely apologize. My companion exclaimed, having inadvertently irritated the small man by bursting into laughter. You definitely deserve credit for being the first among us to discover this, and as you mentioned, it unmistakably appears to have been penned by the other party involved in last night's mystery. I haven't had the chance to examine this room yet, but with your permission, I'd like to do so now.

22:41 As he spoke, he swiftly produced a tape measure in a large round magnifying glass from his pocket. Armed with these tools, he moved silently around the room, occasionally pausing, sometimes kneeling, and at one point lying flat on his stomach. So absorbed was he in his task that he seemed to forget we were even there, muttering to himself the entire time, a continuous stream of exclamations, groans, whistles and small cries that hinted at encouragement and hope. Watching him, I couldn't help but be reminded of a purebred, well trained foxhound, darting back and forth through the underbrush, whining with eagerness until it picks up the lost scent.

23:31 For over 20 minutes he continued his investigation, meticulously measuring distances between marks that were completely invisible to me, occasionally applying his tape to the walls in a similarly baffling manner. At one spot, he carefully collected a small pile of grey dust from the floor and sealed it in an envelope. Finally, he scrutinized the word on the wall with his magnifying glass, examining each letter with the utmost precision. Once finished, he seemed content returning the tape and glass to his pocket.

24:08 They say genius is simply the ability to endure endless effort, he remarked with a smile. It's not the best definition, but it certainly fits detective work. Gregson and Lestrade watched their amateur colleagues manoeuvres with a mix of curiosity and a hint of disdain. They clearly didn't grasp, as I had begun to, that every small action of Sherlock Holmes was aimed at a specific, practical goal. What do you make of it, Sir? They both inquired. It would be unfair to take the credit from you by offering my assistance.

24:48 My friend replied. You're doing so well on your own that it would be a shame for anyone to step in. His voice dripped with sarcasm. However, if you keep me updated on your progress, He continued. I'd be glad to offer any help I can. Meanwhile, I'd like to speak with the constable who discovered the body. Could you provide his name and address? Lestrade checked his notebook. John Rance, he said. He's off duty now. You'll find him at 46 Audley Court, Kennington Park Gate. Holmes jotted down the address.

25:32 Let's go, doctor, he said, beckoning me to follow. He turned to the two detectives, offering a crucial insight. A murder has occurred, and the killer is a man. He's over 6 feet tall in his prime, with surprisingly small feet for his height. He wore coarse square toed boots and smoked a trigonopoly cigar. He arrived here with the victim in A4 wheeled cab pulled by a horse with three old shoes and one new one on its front right leg. The murderer likely has a Ruddy complexion, and the fingernails on his right hand are unusually long.

26:13 These clues might help you. Lestrade and Gregson exchanged skeptical glances. If there was a murder, how was it committed? Lestrade inquired. Poison. Sherlock Holmes replied tersely, striding away. One more thing, Lestrade, he added, turning back at the door. Rach is German for revenge, so don't waste time searching for Miss Rachel. With that parting shot, he left, leaving the two detectives speechless in his wake. In Chapter 3, Watson witnesses Holmes put his deductive theories into practical action, astonishing him by casually revealing intimate details about a stranger's past.

27:01 This moment cements Watson's admiration, even as he struggles to understand how such conclusions are reached so effortlessly. The chapter takes a darker turn when a letter arrives from Scotland Yard describing A baffling death in an empty house on Brixton Road. Though outwardly indifferent, Holmes is intrigued. After some characteristic reluctance and dry humour about official recognition, he agrees to investigate, drawing Watson with him as they set out toward their first true case together. Chapter 4 marks the beginning of the investigation itself.

27:41 Holmes arrives at the grim house in Loriston Gardens where a mysterious death has left seasoned detectives perplexed. As others focus on the obvious, Holmes quietly studies what they overlook, revealing that the true story of the crime is written not in spectacle, but in subtle traces waiting to be read. Chapter 4 What John Rance had to tell It was 1:00 when we left #3 Loriston Gardens. Sherlock Holmes led me to the nearest Telegraph office where he sent off a lengthy telegram. He then flagged down a cab and instruct the driver to take us to the address Lestrade had provided.

28:28 There's nothing like first hand evidence, he remarked. To be honest, I've already made-up my mind about the case, but we might as well gather all the information we can. You astonish me, Holmes, I said. Surely you can't be as certain as you claim about all those details you mentioned. There's no room for error, he replied. The very first thing I noticed when we arrived was that a cab had left 2 deep ruts with its wheels close to the curb. We haven't had rain for a week until last night, so those wheel marks must have been made during the night.

29:07 There were also hoof prints, one of which was more sharply defined than the others, indicating a new shoe. Since the cab was there after the rain started and wasn't there at any time in the morning, Gregson confirmed that it must have been there during the night, which means it brought those two people to the house. That seems straightforward enough, I said. But what about the other man's height? Well, you can usually determine a man's height from the length of his stride in nine cases out of 10.

29:42 It's a straightforward calculation, really, though I won't bore you with the numbers. I measured this man's stride both on the clay outside and the dust inside. Then I had a way to verify my findings. When a person writes on a wall, they naturally do so at their eye level. This writing was just over 6 feet from the ground. It was child's play and his age. I inquired. Well, if someone can stride 4 1/2 feet effortlessly, they're not exactly in their twilight years. That was the width of a puddle on the garden path that he clearly walked across.

30:28 Patent leather shoes had gone around it, while square toes had leftover. There's no mystery here. I'm merely applying some basic principles of observation and deduction that I discussed in that article. Is there anything else that confuses you? The fingernails and the trichinopoly I suggested. The writing on the wall was done with a man's forefinger dipped in blood. My magnifying glass showed me that the plaster was slightly scratched in the process, which wouldn't have happened if the man's nails had been trimmed.

31:06 I gathered some scattered ash from the floor. It was dark and flaky, the kind only a trichonopoly cigar leaves behind. I've made a special study of cigar ashes. In fact, I've written a monograph on the subject. I pride myself on being able to identify the ash of any known brand of cigar or tobacco at a glance. It's in these details that a skilled detective stands apart from the likes of Gregson and Lestrade. And the Florida face? I inquired. That was a bolder guess, though I'm confident I was correct.

31:45 You mustn't press me on that just yet, given the current stage of the investigation. I ran my hand over my forehead. My mind is spinning, I admitted. The more I ponder it, the more perplexing it becomes. How did these two men, assuming there were two, enter an empty house? What happened to the cabman who drove them? How could one man force another to ingest poison? Where did the blood originate? What was the murderer's motive if not robbery, And how did the woman's ring end up there? Above all, why would the second man write the German word rage before leaving?

32:33 I admit I can't see how all these pieces fit together. My companion smiled, clearly pleased. You've captured the complexities of the situation quite well, he said. There's still much that's unclear, though I've settled on the main facts. As for Lestrade's discovery, it was merely A distraction meant to mislead the police by hinting at socialism and secret societies. It wasn't the work of a German. If you noticed, the A was printed in a style somewhat resembling the German way. However, a true German would use the Latin script.

33:18 So we can confidently say this wasn't written by one, but by a clumsy imitator who overdid it. It was a simple ploy to steer the investigation. Of course, I won't reveal much more about the case Doctor. You know a magician loses his mystique once he explains his trick, and if I show you too much of my method, you might conclude that I'm just an ordinary person after all. I could never think that, I replied. You've brought the art of detection as close to a science as it will ever get in this world.

33:57 My companion blushed with pleasure at my words and the sincerity with which I spoke them. I had already noticed that he was as sensitive to praise about his craft as any young woman might be about her beauty. I'll tell you something else, he said. Patent Leathers and Square Toes arrived in the same cab, strolling down the path together as if they were the best of friends, probably arm in arm. Once inside they paced the room, or rather Patent Leathers stayed put while Square Toes paced back and forth.

34:34 I could see all that in the dust. And as he walked he got more and more agitated. You can tell by the longest strides. He was talking the whole time, likely working himself into a rage. Then the tragedy happened. That's all I know for sure. The rest is just speculation, but we have a solid starting point. We need to move quickly because I want to catch Halley's concert to hear Norman Neruda this afternoon. This conversation unfolded as our cab navigated through a maze of grimy streets and bleak alleyways.

35:15 In the most dismal of them, our driver suddenly stopped. That's Audley Court over there, he said, pointing to a narrow gap in the line of dull brick. I'll be waiting here when you return. Audley Court was far from inviting. The narrow passage LED us into a courtyard paved with flagstones surrounded by grimy buildings. We navigated through clusters of unkempt children and lines of faded laundry until we reached #46 where a small brass plate bore the name Rance. Upon inquiry, we learned the constable was asleep, and we were ushered into a modest front parlour to wait for him.

36:02 He soon appeared, looking somewhat annoyed at being roused from his rest. I already filed my report at the office, he remarked. Holmes took a half sovereign from his pocket, turning it thoughtfully in his fingers. We thought it best to hear the details directly from you, he replied. I'd be glad to share whatever I can, the constable said, his gaze fixed on the gleaming coin. Please recount it in your own words. Just as it happened. Rant settled onto the horsehair sofa, furrowing his brow as if to ensure he left nothing out of his account.

36:44 I'll start from the beginning. He began. My shift runs from 10:00 at night to 6:00 in the morning. There was a scuffle at the White Hart around 11, but aside from that the night was uneventful. At one it started raining and I ran into Harry Mercher. He covers the Holland Grove beat and we stood chatting at the corner of Henrietta St. Around 2:00, maybe a bit later, I decided to take a walk down Brixton Road to make sure everything was in order. The place was filthy and deserted. I didn't encounter a single person, though a couple of cabs did pass by.

37:29 As I strolled along privately contemplating how nice a hot gin would be, a sudden flicker of light in the window of a familiar house caught my attention. I knew those two houses on Loriston Gardens were vacant because the owner refused to fix the drains and the last tenant had died of typhoid fever. So seeing a light there was startling, and I suspected something was a miss. When I reached the door, you paused and then walked back to the garden gate. My companion injected. Why did you do that? Rance jumped, astonished, and stared at Sherlock Holmes with utter disbelief.

38:18 Well, that's true, Sir. He replied. Though how you figured that out is beyond me. You see, when I got to the door, it was so quiet and eerie that I thought having someone with me wouldn't hurt. I'm not afraid of anything in this world, but I wondered if it was the ghost of the man who died of typhoid checking the drains that killed him. That thought gave me a shiver, so I walked back to the gate to see if I could spot Mercher's Lantern. But there was no sign of him or anyone else was there, No one on the street.

38:59 Not a soul, Sir, not even a stray dog. I gathered my wits and went back, pushing the door open. Everything was silent inside, so I entered the room where the light was still burning. A candle flickered on the mantelpiece, a red wax one, and by its glow I saw. Yes, I'm aware of what you saw. You circled the room a few times, knelt by the body, then moved on to check the kitchen door. And then John Rance leapt to his feet, his face a mask of fear and suspicion. Where were you hiding to see all that?

39:42 He demanded. It seems you know far more than you should. Holmes chuckled, tossing his card across the table to the constable. Don't go arresting me for the murder, he said. I'm one of the hounds, not the Wolf. Mr. Gregson or Mr. Lestrade can vouch for that. But continue, please. What did you do next? Ron sat back down, though his expression remained perplexed. I returned to the gate and blew my whistle. That brought Merchant and two others to the scene. Was the street empty by then? Well, as far as anyone useful goes, it was.

40:26 What do you mean? The constable's face broke into a grin. I've encountered many a drunk in my time, he said, but never anyone as outrageously drunk as that fellow. He was at the gate when I came out, leaning against the railings and singing at the top of his lungs about Columbine's Newfangled Banner or some nonsense like that. He couldn't stand, let alone be of any help. What kind of man was he? Sherlock Holmes inquired. John Rance seemed a bit annoyed by this tangent. He was an exceptionally drunk sort of man.

41:09 He said he would have found himself in the station if we hadn't been so preoccupied. His face, his clothes. Didn't you notice them? Holmes interjected impatiently. Of course I noticed them, considering I had to prop him up, Mercer and I between ours. He was a tall fellow with a red face, the lower part wrapped up. That's enough. Holmes interrupted. What happened to him? We had enough on our plate without worrying about him. The policeman grumbled, sounding put out. I'm sure he found his way home just fine.

41:55 What was he wearing? A brown overcoat? Did he have a whip with him? A whip? No, he must have left it behind, My companion murmured. Did you see or hear a cab after that? No. Here's half a sovereign for you, my companion said, rising and putting on his hat. I'm afraid, Rance, you'll never advance in the force. That head of yours should be used for more than just decoration. You could have earned your Sergeant stripes last night. The man you had in your grasp is the key to this mystery, the one we're after.

42:40 There's no point in arguing now. I'm telling you it's true. Come on, Doctor. We headed to the cab together, leaving our informants sceptical but visibly uneasy. The bumbling idiot. Holmes said bitterly as we drove back to our lodgings. To think he had such an incredible stroke of luck and squandered it. I'm still rather in the dark. Indeed, the description of this man aligns perfectly with your notion of the second figure in this mystery. But why would he return to the scene after leaving? That's not typical criminal behaviour.

43:24 The ring, my friend, the ring. That's what drew him back. If we can't catch him any other way, we can always use the ring as bait. I'll wager 2 to one that I'll catch him. I owe it all to you. Without your involvement, I might have missed the most fascinating case I've ever encountered. A Study in Scarlet, if you will. Why not indulge in a bit of artistic language? There's a scarlet thread of murder weaving through the otherwise colourless fabric of life, and it's our job to unravel it, isolate it and reveal every inch.

44:04 Now let's have lunch and then off to see Norman Neruda. Her technique and bowing are remarkable. What's that little Chopin piece she plays so brilliantly? Trella la Lira lira lay reclining in the cab. This amateur sleuth sang like a lark while I pondered the complexity of the human mind. You've been listening to Sherlock Holmes, The 221 B Chronicles, an episodic audio book presentation of Sherlock Holmes. Thank you for joining us. We'll be back with the next two chapters in our next release. Until then, the case continues.