Petree Wine brings you.

Basil Rathborne and Nigel Bruce the new Adventures of flock Home.

The Petrie family, the family that took time to bring you good wine, invites you to listen to doctor 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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Serve Petrie sherry alone, or serve it with canapes or appetizers, and by all means serve it proudly.

You can because the letters P E T R I spelled the proudest name in the history of American wines, Petrie.

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

Good evening, Doctor.

Good evening, was about to tell drop your usual chair MIxS of home.

How about it lost the ship.

Be very nice already for tonight's storry.

Doctor, Yes, my boy, here's your shirt.

Thank you, sir.

My story begins on a June nineteen, eighteen hundred and eighty nine.

My wife and i've quite evening at home.

I remember was just about the hour that a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock, when the tranquility of the scene was broken by the discordant janging of our front door bell.

An emergency call for you, I suppose, Doctor's not exactly, mister Bartow.

It turned out to be a certain missus Iso Whitney, an old friend of my wife's who'd come to.

Us in trouble.

Her husband, she told us, had been.

Missing for forty eight hours, and knowing him to be the victim of the shocking habit of taking opium.

She was convinced that he was lying drugged and stupefied in some foul den amid the London waterfronts.

And I suppose you went out to try to find him, Yes, mister Bartel.

I did.

She told me that our husband had mentioned frequenting a place called the Bar of Gold in Upper Swan Lane, so naturally that's where I began my search.

I quickly located it, and after ordering my cab to Wight, I entered the place.

A strange sight met my eyes.

Through the smoke.

Ridden, gloomed 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 gushes and then trailing off into silence, each mumbling his own thoughts and paying we got attention or.

Heed to the words of his neighbor.

As I entered, an attendant hurried up to me with an opium pipe and a supply of the drug, and beckoned.

Me to an hibber master, may lie here I haven't.

Come to stay here, my good man.

I'm looking for a friend, mister Isa Whitney.

No one by that name here.

I'm going to search this place just the same.

Please not to wake trouble man.

What's it's that you watsn't Whitney?

Thank heavens, I've foundamer.

For What time is it?

It's nearly eleven of what day?

What day?

Friday, June the nineteenth, Good lord, I thought it was Wednesday.

It is Wednesday.

Your time to confused me?

H, I tell you it's Friday.

Your wife has been waiting two days for you, boxed up in your dates.

I've only been here a few hours.

Three pipes four pipes of good How many I go home with you?

I'll get your hair.

I have a cab waiting.

I must do some money.

Will you settle up for me?

Here?

Wait here for me?

Stop pulling at my steave, My kid, fellow, who are you and what do you want?

A word in your ear?

Please?

Very well?

What is it?

Give rid of your friend and join me outside?

Hose What on earth are you doing here instead?

Be a cab waiting?

Yes, and please use it to send you of the futtal friend hormone, and if you feel up to it, I should also recommend that you send a note for the cabman telling your wife that you have thrown in your lot with me.

I'd be exceedingly glad to having to go talk with you.

Yes, of course, I've splendid then consumed your business.

Yellow chap on me to outside in about ten minutes.

We're a PHYSI it's it's nearly is that your house as what's it's me?

You're disguise as one, but I.

Never recognized you if you haven't spoke to me just now asposed a good friend.

Yes, yes, good, let's start walking out a horse and trap waiting for.

Me in the next street.

What on earth were you doing in the bar of gold home trying to get news of a missing man?

You, simon, I'm in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I'd hoped to get a clue from the incocurre.

And gramblings of those poor devils back there.

Ah, there's the horse and trap under the street lamp on the corner.

You'll come with me, But says, of course, if I can be in any use I trust a comrade is always abuse my room at the Cedars has two businesses Cedars.

Yes, that's mister.

North Saint Clair's house and our present destination.

It's near Lee in Kent, about seven months in a year.

I'm using it as a headquarters while I conduct my quarries.

Amian mister owns.

Everything all right?

Yes, thank you, John, I get in Watson.

I shan't need you anymore from that.

John, here I acount for you.

Look out for me tomorrow about eleven my charms rams could not gentlemen, can I jot track.

Go well homes?

If we have a seven mile drive ahead.

Of us, perhaps you tell me about the case that you're working on with pleasure old chat.

But first take the range for a few minutes, will you.

I want to remove my makeup and take off my wig and be comfortable.

Now.

After that, I'll tell you why we are headed to the Kintish Preside at this hour.

Of the night.

What's me?

You have a grand gift of silence makes you indelicable as a companion.

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

Need homes.

I've been dying to question you, but I could see that you will preoccupy and I shall reward you with a clear.

And concise statement.

My problem.

Mister Nevil Saint Claire, aged thirty seven, the father of two children and an affectionate husband, is missing.

He left his house the Cedars near Lee, our present destination, last.

Monday, four days ago.

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

In any money trouble?

I think not?

His entire debts for a moment amount to eighty eight pounds, while he has two hundred and twenty pounds standing to his credit.

That the Capital and Country's Bank, who is the light person to see him on Monday?

And his wife's But let me tell you the story.

He left his house for London rather earlier than usual.

He was a businessman, and yes he has an interest in several companies in London, but his wife doesn't.

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, but the middest chance he's received a telegram shortly after his departure saying that a parssful of considerable value was waiting for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company and the dames.

Should require their officers in Fresno's Street, I'd know by them tonight, Jackie.

In Fresno's Street branches out of Upper Swandon Lane where the Bar of Gold is city.

Ah, now I'm beginning to unders he had gone.

I'm gone, and missus Saint Clair took a train for London, and at exactly four point thirty five on Monday last found herself.

Walking past the Bar of Gold.

Secondly, she heard a cry, and looking up, was horrified to see her husband affecking to her from a second story window which prisoners.

He there his own free will use first, and deftly, he was a prisoner.

The window was open, and she distinctly saw his face, which he described as being terribly agitated.

He waved his hand to out 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.

One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that although he wore the coat he had for London, and he wore neither collar nor time, what did you do?

Rushed down the steps into the Bar of Gold and attempts to go up the staircase leading to the second floor.

I suppose that oriental fellow that I tonight stopped.

Her exactly indact, he pushed her out of the door and swammed it out for her.

She rushed down the lane, and a few moments later was lucky enough to meet a sergeant.

And too constable come back with her to the bar of gold.

Course, yes, I went with her to the.

Room in which no one Saint Clair at last been seen.

Of course there was no sign of him.

In fact, on the whole floor there was no one to be found except a hideous depond beggar who seemed to live there.

And what missus Thankclaif told me, it appears that the sergeant conducted the examination quite philogy.

You saw your asthma's up this window, Missus Sinclair.

I'm positive sided.

And Alesca swears no one's been upstairs this afternoon.

He's probably lying.

Let's see what this crippled fellowest to say for himself.

Here you what do you want with me?

I you heard what this lady said.

Did you see her rasband go in this room a few minutes ago?

I didn't see nobody, and I've been here all the afternoon, you, Lila, Yes, and you swear that no one's been in this room for the last few hours.

Yes, I do, missus Sinclair.

I know that you think you saw your husband.

But don't you.

Suppose stop on the table, just a wooden boxman, But I know what's insided there.

See wants a lot of a lot of wooden bricks like kids playing my husband.

To London today is basically to buy the brath Son.

You can't believe me, now, tug.

Don't think I can, Mam.

I'll take another look around.

Where does this door lead to my bedroom?

You won't find.

Nothing in there, and we'll look just the same.

Hello, bloodstains on this window, Ledge, fresh bloodstains.

How do you account for that?

Well, I don't know nothing about it.

And the window overlooks the river, just where the water's good and deep.

Too nice place to tip a body out there?

Conning?

Are you?

You ain't done nothing?

You've got bloodstains on your right sleeve.

What a you gotta say about there?

I cut my fingers, see, and then I went and open the window.

Letter, That's how the blood got there.

You think I was born yesterday?

Let's have a look in his chest and bars.

Hello, Hello, those clothes are these?

There are trousers, socks, shoes, et, everything except the coat, Eh, missus Sinclair?

Will you come in here?

Pre mom?

What have your problem charged?

These?

Close?

There?

Your husband's mom?

What's happened to him?

Sargeant?

I'm afraid he's met with foul plaimer.

And this man knows what knownely he won't talk.

I don't know nothing.

I'll tell you, don't you well, I arrest you in the name of the Lord, and.

I warn you that anything to side.

And so Watson the Sargant arrested this crippled beggar.

I'm not surprised.

What have they been able to find out about him?

Surprisingly before?

His name is Hugh Boone, and he's.

A professional beggar, quite as successful when I gather his pathetic appearance.

Attracts great sympathy.

There's a shock of orange 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 them, some turl lion.

So it would seem the Alaska downstairs has been class examined relentlessly, but he swears that he has no knowledge.

Of the crimes there have been in any furtive.

Yes, and either have the ebbing tide gave a fresh clue?

You means and curs body was washed out.

No, his coat.

With every pocket stuffed with pennies and hapenies four hundred and twenty one pennies and two hundred and seventy haypenies to be exact.

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

But a human body it 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.

The other clothes were found in the room.

Why would the body be dressed in a coat?

Low?

We can only summarize old chat.

But supposing that this man Boom I trust Nevil sent Claire through the window and into the river, what would he.

Do then try and dispose of the telltal garment?

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

He would seize 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 sick, so he loaded the pockets with coins to make it.

Sinfe quite so, But he has little time for he has heard this couple downstairs.

When to Saint Calare tried to cross her way up, he only succeeded in getting as far as throwing the coat out.

When the police arrived on the scene.

No, it seems perfectly feasible.

Well, I thought there was a working hypothesis anyway.

Neville Sinclaire disappeared on Monday, and if we still don't know what but he was doing in the opium.

Down what happened?

Too many words?

Doctor?

Or where he is now?

One hum boom that beg over the crusted lip had to do with his disappearance.

Ah, here we are that destination.

Oh a light burnie.

Missus Sinclair must be waiting up.

For he asked, poor woman, I hate to return here with no news of her husband.

But she's been brave, Watson, extremely brave.

We must do everything we can to comfort her.

Doctor 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.

Missus.

I say that you have no good news for me to whom I'm afraid not.

No, thanks heaven to death.

Mister Holmes, tell me honestly, do you think that Never is still alive?

Well?

Bank, No, thankly?

And then I don't you think he's murdered?

Well I don't say that, but perhaps you?

And on what day?

Did he meet his death?

On Monday?

Then the happiness the home?

You can explain how I received a letter from him today?

Who where is the let?

Madam?

Yeah, let me see it.

This is very crude writing on the envelope.

Surely it's not your husband's hand.

The writing in the letter is there's letter contained an enclosure?

Yes, there was a ring signal.

What does the letter say?

Home?

There is do not be frightened, all will come.

Well there is a huge error which it takes some little time to rectify, a waiting patience.

And it's signed Neville written in pension the fly leaf of a notebook, no water mark.

Posted today in graves End by a man of the dirt.

It's come.

The flat has been dumbed.

If I'm not mistaken by a man who has been.

Chewing to back.

My husband must be alive, mister Hilmes, This might be a clever forgery of this office put us off the track.

The signet ring, yes, it may have been taken from him for handwriting, and then the post.

Mark might have been written on Monday and only posted today.

I won't be discarded where I have no wish to discourage you.

I'm just trying to be practical.

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 phone Nune, except to say that he was.

Going to buy the wooden blocks.

When you saw him at the bar of Golden Swandham Lane, was the window open, yes, then he might have called you.

He might, as I understand it, he gave an inarticulate cry, a call for help God.

Yes, he waved his hands, but it might have.

Been a cry of surprise.

Astonishment of the unexpected sight of you.

Might have caused him to throw up his hands, I suppose.

And you thought that he was pulled back from the window.

Because he disappeared so abruptly.

He might have.

I can't think why one last question?

Your husband error shown signs of taking Oakum Why no.

Never, mister Holmes.

I'm certain the idea would have revolted him.

Thank you, Missus Sinclair.

As were the principal points I wanted to be clear on.

And now what's my suggest we retire for the night.

We may have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.

I hope you both sleep well.

Good Night, mister Holmes, Dr Watson.

Good night, miss keep up your courage.

Good night, Missus Sinclair.

We miscook for the best out right, 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.

So I'm just going to remind you that when you by Patrick California sherry, you have a choice of two kinds of sherry.

You can choose Patrie regular sherry, or if you prefer your sherry dry, you know, not sweet, ask for Petree paled By sherry.

They're both fine wines.

And if you don't know which you'd prefer, don't buy one, buy two, buy them both and try them both.

And remember this.

Petre sherry is the perfect all round, all occasion wine.

It's good before dinner, after dinner, at cocktail time, and any time.

Just be sure you'll get Petrie pet Tree sherry well, doctor Watson, you and the great Sherlock Holmes certainly deserved a good night's rest.

Did you get it?

I did, mister Boto, But Holmes made no attempt to sleep.

As soon as we retired upstairs, he donned the blue silk dressing gown and then wandered about the room, collecting pillows from his bed, cushions from the sofa in the armchairs.

With these he construct the sort of Eastern divan, and which pursed himself cross legged, with an ounce of shagged tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front of him.

He was all set for a session of thinking.

I guess yeah, my boy.

In the dim light to the lamp, I saw him sitting there, an old bra pipe clenched in his teeth, his eyes fixed vacant, clear on the corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, silent, motionless.

So he sat as I dropped off to sleep, And so he sat when I wakened in the morning to find the summer sun shining into 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 had seen on the night.

Watson, Wake Watson, who in twenty minutes past four homes.

World Chap.

I had to think.

I couldn't allow my brain the luxury of sleeping you game from morning drive.

Well, i'll get risk quiet.

A man's stirring yet, but I know where the stable boy sleeps.

I have a horse and trap up no time at all.

Oh where you going prison to visit?

You?

Boon the man with a twisted lip?

Homes you.

You're unusually excited work.

What's I want to test a little theory?

I think what's in that?

You are not standing in the presence of one of the most affluent fools in Europe.

I deserve to be kicked from here to Channing Cross.

But I think I have the key to the affair.

Oh is it in the bathroom?

You're joking home?

No, I've just been then removed it to my coat pocket.

Now haven get dressed, old Chap, and we'll drive up to the prison and see whether my key fits the lock.

Oh, good morning, mister Elms, Doctor Watson.

You're a couple of early birds, and no mistake.

Here's constable.

We're searching for the proverbial worm who's on duty, respector Brad Street, Sir, Oh, oh, here he is now.

Good morning byd Street.

Oh, mister Elms, good morning, doctor, Good morning in Spigtor.

What can I do for you?

Gentlemen?

He called about hu Boone, the beggar man who his chat was being concerned in the disappearance of mister.

Neble Saint Clair.

You have him here?

Oh, yes, mister Olmes, he's in the cells.

I'll take you to him.

Follow me, will you, gentlemen?

Thank you?

What kind of a prisoners he?

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 ends.

His face is as black as tickers.

He has an aversion to washing, has he?

Yeah, yes, mister Olmes.

Well and see his case has been settled.

Tolive a regular prison barth.

And when you see him, I think you'll agree with.

Me that he needs it.

And then we are.

Eh, this is hisself.

He's still asleep.

Lord, what a fulfill possibly looking for her?

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

What doing mister Romes, please inspect her well he he certainly needs a wash.

Yes, I had an idea that he might.

That's why I brought the sponge along in my Oh, so that was the key that you found in the bathroom.

You're if any one, mister Olmes, And no mistake.

Why didn't you bring a sponge along for I'll show you.

Is there any water in the cell and the jug on the table?

Yes?

I set the sponge in the water so and then applied to the prisoner's face, so.

Which Scott has competious three shades lighter underneath it, and the Scott is liples disappeared.

Oh you do I turn this mapple bread hair?

I think we mind it's a wig.

That's right.

Ah.

Let me introduce you to mister Neville, Saint Clair a.

Brie in the County of Kent.

Good lord, mister Elmes is the missing man, all right, I recognize him from the photographs.

All right, I'm never since here.

What am I charged with with making away with?

Mister Neverles say, oh no, you you can't be charged with that as we make a case of attempted suicide of it.

Well, since I'm the missing man and 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 a trust, did your wife?

It wasn't known in my wife.

It was the children.

I couldn't beare to have them know that their father was a common beggar.

Now you've exposed me, What could I do?

Well?

If you leave it a code of law of traillless matter up so you can hardly avoid newspaper publisher.

But if you're perfectly honest with us now, I'm sure the inspector, mister.

Holmes won't be too hard on you.

No, mister Saint Clair Inspector Bradstreet will.

I'm sure I 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 Hugh Boone, a crippled girl with a twisted lip?

Well, it's simple enough story.

Some years ago I was a newspaper reporter.

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

I suppose you thought the best way to get your effects, guys, yourself is as bigger.

Yes, I've been an action in my use in It wasn't hard for me to adopt a convincing disguise.

But that was the point where all my trouble started.

On that first day I sat him the life London streets, I found, to my amazement that I received no less than twenty six shillings and.

Four pounds as much as your weakness salary is a reporter.

And imagine, yes, mister Holmes, well you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work a two pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a couple of days by sneering my face with paint, laying my cap on the ground, and sitting still.

Only one man knew my secret Alaska at the bar of Golden Upper Swanderblane.

Eh, yes, mister Holmes.

Every morning I had emerged from there dressed as a beggar, and in the evenings i'd return and transform myself into a well dressed man about town.

The fellow was well paid for his rooms, and I knew that my secret was safe in his position.

When you got married, you couldn't bring yourself to confide in your wife.

I supposon, 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 Monday, you quickly changed back into the character the beggar.

I supposed, yes, mister Holmes, and then waited my coaton threw it into the river.

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

Is that a one point the signet ring that you sent your wife, Well, I knew that she'd be wedding, so I gave it to the Alaska at a moment when no constable was watching me, together with a hastily scribbled note.

That note only reached her last night, mister Sinclair, last night, poor Catherine, What a dreadful week you must have spent.

The police have been watching that Alaska.

He probably found it difficult to post the letter for you without being spotted.

Yes, I would surmise he gave it to a sailor.

Customer is to post a sailor who chewed tobacco and had a dirty thumb.

Yes, I think all the ends are tied off, Benika.

Now one last question is to Sinclair, have you never been prosecuted for begging many times, but what was a fine to me?

It's got to stop here and now, missus Sinclair, if the ash this thing up, there must be no more of you boom the beggar.

I swear it, and you must.

Tell your wife for two than one.

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

Are very great deal of miseries.

I shall tell her everything.

Well, mister Jlmes, were very much obliged to you.

If havn't cleared this matter up, I will find you.

While 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 shag tobacco.

I only wish that all my problems might be solved.

So comfortable, 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.

By being a detective sure has its surprises.

Nothing like that ever happens to me.

Oh come, come, come, come, come.

One would beleeve to hear you talk that you need any uneventful life.

Oh but I do, doctor, I do why I never get any surprises.

Look, I tell our friends that Petrie wine is always good wine, and what happens, Oh, what does happen?

Everybody agrees as good wine?

That's that well, it just got to be.

After all, the Petrie 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 Petrie family knows full well the art of turning luscious, sun ripened grapes into fragrant, delicious wine.

And because the making of Petrie wine is a family affair, you can be sure that the name Petrie 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 Petrie wine because Petrie took time to bring you good wine.

Well, doctor Watson, what new Sherlock Holmes adventure?

Are you planning to tell us next week?

Who I'll see next week?

Next week?

Mister bark till, I'm going to tell you a weird story of violence and of sudden death that's struck without warning.

I call it The Strange Adventure.

The Aneasy Easy.

Chair Tonight Sherlock Holmes Adventure was adapted by Dennis Green and Anthony Boucher from the Conan Doyle story A Man with a Fisted Lip.

Music is by Dean Fosterling.

Mister Rathburne appears through the courtesy of Metropolan Mayor, and mister Bruce through the courtesy of Universal Pictures by they and all starring in the Sherlock Holmes series.

The pettere 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 good night for the Petrie found