You're listening to Luke's English Podcast.
Hello listeners, welcome back to Luke's English Podcast.
How are you doing today?
I hope you're doing fine out there in podcast land, wherever you are, whichever part of podcast land you find yourself in at this very moment in time.
Welcome back to the show.
And so this one, in this episode, I want to tell you another short story.
I've done this loads of times before, right?
And I want to do another one.
But for some reason, this morning, this particular morning, I've been struggling.
I don't know why.
I've been sitting here for over an hour trying to get this episode started and I've abandoned it about four times and I don't know quite why I'm struggling.
So let me just try and explain to you what's going on in my head, and then I'm going to give this one more try and actually do this properly.
So I love telling stories on the podcast and I think that you love listening to them as well right,
I also really enjoy doing Sherlock Holmes stories.
I like to do lots of different types of stories, but I always come back to doing Sherlock Holmes stories because I really enjoy them and I think that you enjoy them as well.
I often get comments and messages from listeners asking for more Sherlock Holmes stories, and I'm very happy to oblige.
And so that is what I'm intending to do with this episode, right?
But what's been going on?
Why have I been struggling?
So I've got the text.
I've prepared a text of a story.
It's The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb, one of my favourite Sherlock Holmes stories from the first collection of Sherlock Holmes short stories, which is called The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
All the stories in that are great.
The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb.
And what I've done is I've put the text together.
I've prepared it.
It's ready for me to start.
I've updated the text a little bit.
I've adapted it, which means that I've basically made it a bit more up-to-date so that it's not too old-fashioned.
Because I don't want you to hear English that's really old-fashioned.
I want you to hear and learn English that you can... for the most part, still used today, right?
So I've updated it and modernised it a little bit.
I've also gone through the text and highlighted some bits of vocabulary.
So if you look at the PDF for this episode, you'll see that some words and phrases have been highlighted in a kind of in a grey colour, which I hope is not going to be too obtrusive.
It'll be subtle.
So some words and phrases are subtly highlighted.
And so I guess the reason I've been struggling is because I've been thinking, I've been thinking.
Okay, so I want to just tell people the story, but I'm always concerned that it's going to be difficult for you to follow.
And I really want to make sure that all of you are able to understand the story and follow it and enjoy it.
And then as a result, you know, learn English from it.
And so as I read through the story, I kind of feel like, oh, I should be stopping to explain things.
I think I should probably explain that word.
I'm going to need to explain that one.
And so that's in my mind as I'm doing it.
And I keep attempting this.
I've tried starting the story and I stopped and explained different words and it kind of slowed the story down.
And I thought, no, this isn't going to work.
This isn't going to work.
It's slowing the story down.
We need the story.
We need to go from one thing to the next.
But then I'm thinking, but what about all those listeners who might not be able to understand this?
What about that duty that I feel I have as an English teacher, which is to explain specific words?
So that's where I am in my head.
I'm a bit stuck for some reason.
This happens occasionally.
It happens.
Sometimes I just get a bit stuck.
Even though I've been doing this podcast for you know however many years and I've done so many episodes and I've done loads of short stories in the past.
So why is it that I'm getting stuck today?
I don't know.
I think what I need to do is just forget all of that, right?
Just put all of that out of my mind and just think, right, let's just tell the story.
Let's just relax and enjoy it.
If I feel like I need to stop and explain something, I will do it.
But otherwise, I just want to kind of just enjoy this and I hope that you enjoy it with me as well.
OK, so I think I'm going to start.
I'm going to try again.
This is the adventure of the engineer's thumb.
Now, a thumb is something that you have on your hand.
Most people have this on your hand.
Unless you've had an accident or something and you lost it for some reason.
You've probably got a thumb on your hand.
So on your hand, on a normal hand, there are five digits.
That's four fingers and then the thumb.
Right, the thumb.
T-H-U-M-B is pronounced thumb.
So the thumb is one of the digits on the hand and it's really important, of course, for doing all sorts of things.
If you want to write a text on your phone with one hand, you need to hold the phone between the palm of your hand and your fingers, and then you use the thumb to write the text.
If you just want to pick up a bottle and have a drink from it.
Obviously your thumb is so important because it allows you to hold the bottle in your hand.
So that's your thumb.
Right, that's a thumb.
So this story is slightly different from the other Sherlock Holmes stories because there's not that much Sherlock Holmes in it.
Usually, of course, in these stories we follow Sherlock Holmes as he investigates a crime, and he does all his detective work with his particular set of skills.
And it's brilliant.
This one has a bit less Sherlock Holmes in it, but it's still a great story.
It's quite thrilling.
There's quite a lot of suspense involved.
Okay, let's get started.
Let's just get into it.
I really hope that you are able to understand this and follow it and enjoy it from start to finish.
Leave your comments in the comments section to let me know.
You can find the text of this story on the episode PDF, which is available for you completely free.
You'll find a link for that in the episode description.
And you'll see all the words that I've highlighted.
Those are words that you might want to check out for yourself.
Use your favourite online dictionary or whatever tool that you use to search and understand vocabulary.
I might explain some of those bits, but I think we should just get into the story.
I need to just relax a little bit and just enjoy this.
And hopefully you will enjoy it too.
And we'll have a fantastic time in getting into yet another short story on Luke's English podcast.
Okay, then.
So without any further ado, let's start.
This is The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Part one.
Out of all the strange and fascinating cases brought to my friend Sherlock Holmes over the years we worked together, there were only two that I introduced to him myself.
The story of Mr. Hatherley's missing thumb and that of Colonel Warburton's supposed madness.
While the second might have offered more material for someone keen on psychological puzzles, the first case was so bizarre and dramatic that it deserves a proper telling, even though it may not have given Holmes as much room to show off his usual powers of deduction.
Although parts of this story have been published in the newspapers, those versions never quite capture the same effect as hearing the facts unfold step by step.
That slow build-up, the mystery gradually unravelling, is what makes the tale so gripping.
At the time it left a deep impression on me and even now, two years later, I still remember it vividly.
It all happened in the summer of 1889, not long after I got married.
I had returned to civilian life and medical practice, and I no longer lived with Holmes in his Baker Street flat, although I still visited him regularly and occasionally persuaded him to visit us too.
My medical practice was doing well and since I lived near Paddington Station, I found myself treating a number of railway employees.
One of them, who I'd cured of a long-standing illness, became one of my biggest fans and insisted on sending anyone with even the slightest ailment in my direction.
One morning, just before 7am, our maid woke me to say that two men from Paddington were downstairs waiting for me in the consulting room.
I quickly got dressed – railway cases rarely turned out to be minor – and hurried downstairs.
As I reached the bottom, I saw my old acquaintance, the railway guard, coming out of the consulting room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
I've got him here, he said in a low voice, nodding back towards the door.
He's all right now.
What is it?
I asked, wondering if he'd captured some wild animal rather than a patient.
It's a new patient, he replied.
I thought I'd better bring him myself, just to make sure he didn't slip away or anything.
Anyway, there he is, safe and sound.
Got to go now, Doctor.
Duty calls.
And off he went, before I could even thank him.
I entered the room and found a young man, no older than 25, sitting at the table.
He was dressed neatly in a heather-coloured tweed suit and had a soft cap resting on some of my books.
One of his hands was wrapped in a blood-stained handkerchief.
He was pale and looked extremely shaken, like someone fighting to keep himself together.
I'm sorry to wake you so early, Doctor, he said, but I had a serious accident last night.
I arrived this morning by train, and someone at Paddington kindly brought me here.
I gave your maid my card, but I see she's left it on the table.
I picked up the card.
It read, Mr Victor Hatherley, Hydraulic Engineer, 16A Victoria Street, 3rd Floor.
I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, I said, taking a seat.
I understand you've just had a night journey, which is never fun.
Oh, my night was anything but dull.
He replied with a sudden loud laugh that rang through the room.
He laughed so hard he shook in his seat.
My instincts as a doctor immediately kicked in.
Stop that, I said firmly.
Get a hold of yourself.
I poured some water, but it was useless.
He was in the throes of a hysterical fit, the kind that sometimes hits people after they've been through a traumatic experience.
Eventually, he calmed down and slumped back, exhausted and pale.
Sorry, I've made a fool of myself, he gasped.
Not at all.
Here, drink this.
I added a splash of brandy to the water, and slowly the colour returned to his face.
That's better, he said.
Now, Doctor, would you mind taking a look at my thumb, or rather what's left of it?
He unwrapped the handkerchief and held out his hand.
Even I, as a seasoned doctor, recoiled a bit.
Four fingers remained, but where his thumb should have been was a raw, red, sponge-like mess.
It looked like it had been cut or torn off at the root.
Good heavens, I said, shocked.
That's a nasty injury.
It must have bled a lot.
It did.
I fainted when it happened and must have been unconscious for some time.
When I came to, it was still bleeding, and so I tied my handkerchief around it and used a twig to keep it tight.
Clever, you could have been a surgeon.
It was hydraulic logic, really, within my area of expertise.
I examined the wound more closely.
This was done with something heavy and very sharp.
Like a cleaver, he said.
An accident?
Not at all.
You mean it was an attack?
Yes.
A very deliberate and violent one.
I cleaned and bandaged the wound, while he lay back biting his lip from time to time, but otherwise not flinching.
How's that?
I asked when I was done.
Excellent.
Between the brandy and your bandages, I feel like a new man.
I was terribly weak before.
I've been through a lot.
Perhaps you shouldn't talk about it just yet.
It seems to have shaken you up.
No, I must.
I'll have to explain it to the police eventually, but honestly, if it weren't for this missing thumb, I doubt anyone would believe my story.
And even if they do, the details I can give them are so vague I doubt that justice will be served.
If it's a mystery you want solved, I said, then I strongly recommend my friend Sherlock Holmes.
Go to him before the police.
I've heard of him, he said.
I'd be glad if he took the case, though of course I'll still have to go to the authorities.
Could you introduce me?
I'll do one better.
I'll take you to him myself.
That would be a huge help.
We'll call a cab and go together.
We'll probably catch him at breakfast.
Are you up for it?
Yes, I won't be at ease until I've told my story.
Right, so that's the end of part one.
How are you doing, listeners?
I'm sorry to interrupt the story.
I know some of you will be thinking, oh, let's keep going.
But I feel like I would like to just explain what's going on at this point because, as I said, I just really want.
My main objective here is to allow you to understand and follow the story.
And so it is necessary occasionally for me to just stop and just explain what's going on.
So overall, without...
Going into details about specific words, which you could check yourselves later.
Here's a summary of what's happened so far.
So Dr. Watson, he's a medical doctor, right?
He's woken up early one morning by a railway guard from Paddington Station, which is not far from his home.
This railway guard was a former patient of his.
He helped him once upon a time.
And since then this railway guard is such a fan of Watson as a doctor that he sends everyone to him.
Even if they have like a little health issue, like a bad back or injured hand or something, he'll send them to Watson.
So the railway guard has brought Watson a badly injured man.
The man is Victor Hatherley.
He is a young hydraulic engineer.
So hydraulics is an area of engineering which includes, which involves...
The use of, like, how do you describe this?
It's the use of air or liquid which is put under pressure, which then is used to create sort of powerful systems.
So, okay, let's see.
Imagine... a digger.
You know those things in the street when they're doing roadworks in the street, okay?
And they use a big machine to dig into the ground, and there's a guy inside it operating it.
You know, they make a lot of noise.
These big diggers.
The arm of a digger, the big metal arm that controls the part that digs into the ground.
The power from that comes from hydraulics.
You see these sort of hydraulic systems where there's compressed air probably, which pushes the arm up and down.
This is hydraulics.
So it's a form of engineering which involves creating, creating power through compressed air or compressed liquid, right.
So victor hatherley is a hydraulic engineer right, and he's lost his thumb.
Someone's trying to call me almost guaranteed to be a cold call.
Someone's calling me on the phone Every single time someone calls me, it's always a cold call trying to make me change my electricity supplier or something.
Anyway, so Hathaway has lost his thumb, which has been cleanly chopped off.
And he explains it was not an accident, but a deliberate attack by someone.
So someone has cut his thumb off, which is obviously horrible.
Watson treats the wound carefully and he wraps it in a bandage and he realises that the story must involve a serious crime.
And Watson then recommends that Hatherley goes to see Sherlock Holmes saying that he will be able to make sense of what happened.
And he recommends going to Sherlock Holmes before he goes to the police because, as we know, in these Sherlock Holmes stories, the police are usually fairly incompetent and Sherlock Holmes knows exactly what he's doing, so he will definitely be able to solve the case.
And then Watson takes Hatherley straight to 221B Baker Street, And then we can carry on.
So here we go with part two.
I asked my servant to call a cab and told the maid to let my wife know I'd be out for a while.
Five minutes later, I was in a handsome cab.
That's like a horse-drawn carriage.
I was in a handsome cab with Mr. Hatherley heading straight for Baker Street.
As usual, we found Sherlock Holmes in his sitting room, lounging in his dressing gown, smoking a pipe made up of leftover tobacco from the day before and reading the personal ads in the Times.
So Holmes is there relaxing, smoking from his pipe, smoking the tobacco that he didn't finish the night before or the day before reading the newspaper.
He greeted us in his calm and friendly way, ordered in some bacon and eggs and invited us to join him for breakfast.
When we'd eaten, he made Hatherley comfortable on the sofa, propped a pillow under his head and handed him a glass of brandy and water.
Again, in these stories, brandy is always the solution to all problems.
Pretty easy to be a doctor in these days.
You just give people brandy and bing, they're fine.
So anyway, he gives him a glass of brandy and water.
Clearly, Mr. Hatherley, you've had quite the experience, Holmes said.
Please make yourself at home.
Tell us what you can.
Don't push yourself.
If you get tired, stop and keep your strength up.
Thank you, said the young man.
But to be honest, I've felt much better since the doctor treated me.
And I think your breakfast has done the rest.
I won't waste your time.
I'll get straight to the point.
Holmes sank into his armchair his eyelids half closed, as usual when he was listening, giving the impression he was bored.
But I knew better.
His sharp mind was fully alert.
I sat opposite him, and we both listened in silence as Mr. Hatherley began his story.
You should know, first of all, he began, that I'm an orphan and unmarried.
I live alone in rented rooms in London.
I'm a hydraulic engineer by trade, and I spent seven years apprenticed to Venner & Matheson, the well-known firm in Greenwich.
Two years ago, after my father passed away and left me a small inheritance, I decided to go out on my own.
I rented offices in Victoria Street and waited for work.
I suppose everyone finds the start of their own business to be a slow one, but for me it's been especially grim.
In two years, I've had just three consultations and one small job.
That's it.
My total earnings?
£27.10.
A shilling is an old-fashioned amount of money from Britain.
And a shilling is about five pence, I think.
So, £27.10 is sort of like £27.50.
50 pence, right?
So, it's not very much money.
I sat in my office every day from nine to four hoping for a client until I began to think I'd never get anywhere.
Then, yesterday evening, just as I was about to pack up for the day, my clerk came in and told me that a gentleman wanted to see me.
He handed me a card that read Colonel Lysander Stark, and right behind him came the Colonel himself.
He was a strange-looking man, just above average height, but extremely thin.
I don't think I've ever seen anyone so lean.
His face seemed to narrow down into a sharp nose and chin, and the skin on his cheeks was stretched tight over his bones.
But he didn't seem ill.
His eyes were bright, his movements quick, and he had a confident way about him.
He was dressed plainly but neatly, and I'd guess he was closer to 40 than 30.
Mr. Hatherley, he asked, with a slight German accent.
Right, so this is the voice of Colonel Stark, who is described as having a slight German accent.
Okay, so I've been wondering how to do the voice of Stark, and I was listening...
Only this morning I was listening to an interview with the German film director Werner Herzog.
Do you know Werner Herzog?
Werner Herzog, who has this incredibly characteristic way of speaking.
And he speaks in this kind of voice.
And it is incredibly compelling to listen to him speak with his voiceovers on all his documentaries.
And he speaks in this kind of way.
And I was thinking maybe I can make Colonel Stark something like...
Something like Werner Herzog.
So that's what I've got in my mind.
It might be a little bit, the accent might go this way and that way, but it's something like that.
That's what I'm going for.
All right.
So he says, Mr. Hatherley, he asked with a slight German accent.
I have been told that you are not only skilled in your profession, but also discreet and good at keeping secrets.
I bowed, feeling rather pleased by the compliment.
May I ask who recommended me?
I said.
Perhaps it is better if I don't tell you that just now, he replied.
I have also heard that you are unmarried, without family, and that you live alone in London.
That's true, I said, but I'm not sure how that relates to my work as an engineer.
I was under the impression this was a professional matter.
Oh, it is, he assured me, but you'll see that everything I say is relevant.
I do have a job for you, but absolute secrecy is essential.
Total silence before, during and after the work.
And that's easier to expect from a man who lives alone than from someone with family around.
Well, if I give you my word to keep something secret, I told him, you can trust me completely.
He stared at me intensely for a moment with his strange, suspicious eyes.
So you promise, he said.
Yes, I promise.
Absolute silence.
No mention of it to anyone by word or writing.
You have my word.
He suddenly leapt up, darted across the room and flung open the door.
The corridor outside was empty.
Just checking, he said, returning to his seat.
Sometimes clerks get curious.
Now we can speak freely.
He pulled his chair close to mine and gave me that same unsettling stare.
I started to feel uneasy.
There was something odd about the man. and I even began to feel a little afraid.
Still, I didn't want to lose a rare client, so I tried to stay calm.
"'Please get to the point, sir,' I said.
"'My time is limited.'
A foolish thing to say in hindsight.
"'How would you feel about earning fifty guineas for a night's work?' he asked.
"'That would suit me perfectly.'
Actually, it won't take the whole night.
Just an hour or so.
All I need is your opinion on a hydraulic stamping press that is not working properly.
Once you tell us the problem, we'll handle the repairs ourselves.
What do you say?
Sounds easy.
And the pay is more than generous.
Good.
We need you to come tonight on the last train.
Where to?
A little village called Eyford in Berkshire.
It is about seven miles from Reading.
You can get there on the 1115 train from Paddington.
Sorry about my German accent.
German listeners, obviously, this is very dodgy.
Okay.
And I don't, you know, it's not an accurate German accent by any stretch of the imagination.
But, you know, let's just have some fun with a weird character.
All right.
What do you think of this character?
He's a bit strange, isn't he?
You can get there on the 1115 train from Paddington.
All right.
I will meet you at the station with a carriage.
Oh, so there's a drive involved?
Yes, our house is in the countryside, about seven miles from the station.
Then we won't get there until midnight.
I suppose I'll have to stay the night?
Yes, we can put you up, nothing fancy, but it will be sufficient for your needs, I am sure.
"'Well, that's not ideal.
Couldn't I come at a better time?'
'We'd prefer night?
And to make up for the inconvenience, 'we are offering you a fee that even top professionals would accept.
'Still, if you'd rather not—'.
'I thought of the fifty guineas, Mr Holmes, and how much I needed it'.
"'No, I'll come,' I said.
"'But I'd like a better understanding of what the job involves.'
Of course, I understand that asking for secrecy makes you curious.
Let me explain everything.
But first, are we definitely alone here?
Yes, completely.
Good.
You've probably heard of Fuller's Earth.
It is a valuable material and quite rare in England.
Yes, Fuller's Earth.
Yes, I've heard that.
Recently I bought a small property near Reading.
I discovered a patch of fuller's earth on my land, but it was quite small.
It lay between two much larger deposits on neighbouring farms.
The owners of those lands had no idea what they had, no idea at all.
Naturally, I wanted to buy their fields before they discovered the truth, but I did not have the money.
So I told a few trusted friends and we decided to quietly work our little patch and then use the profits to eventually buy the other properties.
To do this, we installed a hydraulic press.
That press is now malfunctioning and we need your expert opinion.
But we are keeping all this extremely quiet, you understand.
If anyone found out that we had an engineer visiting, they might start asking questions, and that would not be acceptable.
It would ruin everything.
That is why I asked for your complete silence.
And I trust you understand now.
You do understand, Mr. Hatherley, don't you?
Yes, I said, I do.
But I'm curious, how do you use a hydraulic press to dig full as earth?
Isn't it usually just scooped out of a pit?
Now, listeners, you're probably thinking, wait a minute, what is full as earth?
And what is going on with this weird guy and his dodgy accent?
Well, anyway, what is full as earth?
Full as earth is a kind of stuff that you might find in the ground.
It's a form of soil, like earth, that is dug out of the ground.
It's like a kind of clay.
Clay is a kind of very thick, dense kind of earth that could be used to make bricks maybe, or used to make pottery.
Fuller's Earth is a specific type of clay which can be very useful in various industrial processes.
It's used to absorb oil or moisture from things.
In the industrial period, Fuller's Earth was just a very useful and valuable thing which could be sold for a lot of money.
It's not as valuable as coal or oil or gold or something like that, but it's a sort of form of earth that could be dug out of the ground and then sold.
And so this guy apparently has found some fuller's earth on the land of this property he's bought.
He knows that there's more fuller's earth, but it's part of the land owned by two neighbouring properties.
And what he really wants is to get that Fuller's Earth as well.
But he doesn't have enough money to buy that land yet.
So the plan is he's decided to start digging out the Fuller's Earth that he's got, selling it and then using the money.
He's going to use the money to buy the other land nearby and then he can dig out the rest of the fuller's earth, much more of it, and he can get rich selling that.
This is his story, right?
And Hatherley is not very suspicious.
Maybe he should be, considering the strange behaviour of this person.
But he says...
Yes, I understand.
But I'm curious, how do you use a hydraulic press?
So a hydraulic press would be something that would squash or compress something.
And it sort of makes something crushed or pressed.
An example of a hydraulic press might be in a scrapyard where old cars are taken.
You've seen this.
You might have seen them in real life.
You might have seen them on TV or in movies.
Imagine someone's got an old car that they want to get rid of.
They would take it to the scrapyard and the car would be put inside a hydraulic press and then it's crushed and squashed and pressed down into a relatively small cube.
And then it can be easily disposed of or melted down or something like that, right?
So that's a hydraulic press.
So Colonel Stark is using a hydraulic press for some reason, in his attempts to get this Fuller's Earth out of the ground.
And Hathorley doesn't understand.
So he says, how do you use a hydraulic press to dig Fuller's Earth?
Isn't it usually just scooped out of a pit?
Isn't it usually just dug out? of a hole in the ground.
Ah, well, he said casually, we compress the earth into bricks to move it more discreetly.
But that is just a mere detail.
The important thing is that I've been completely open with you, as you can see, and I hope you will honour our agreement.
He stood up.
I will see you at Iford at 11.15 tonight.
I'll be there.
And remember, not a word to anyone.
He gave me one last intense stare, shook my hand with his cold, damp fingers and hurried out of the room.
So I've got another summary.
Basically, Hatherley is a barely earning a living.
He needs money.
He's set up his own business, but it's not doing very well.
He needs money.
One evening he's visited by a potential client, this mysterious man calling himself Colonel Lysander Stark.
Stark speaks with a slight German accent, is extremely thin, and behaves nervously and secretly.
So he's a bit of a suspicious character.
The German accent...
I mean in the days of the show, when Arthur Conan Doyle was writing these stories.
A foreign accent might have been something to be suspicious of.
And so this character having a German accent.
Always in these stories, when a character's got a foreign accent, it normally signifies that we need to be a bit suspicious of this character.
Obviously, that's an old-fashioned concept that something foreign, ooh, must be suspicious.
That's just a sign of the times, really.
If you're German, I hope you don't mind.
Um Stark offers Hatherley 50 guineas, which is a large amount of money, maybe about 10000 pounds, 12000 euros, something like that in today's money.
So that's a lot of money for a single night's work.
And the job is to inspect a hydraulic press in a country house near Iford in Berkshire, right?
Somewhere just outside London.
Probably an hour or two outside of London.
Stark insists on total secrecy, travelling late at night, and that Hatherley must come alone.
Colonel Stark claims that the machine is used to process Fuller's Earth, a valuable mineral.
He says that he needs to keep the existence of the Fuller's Earth on his land a secret.
This is why he's being secretive, according to him.
He needs to keep the existence of this stuff secret and doesn't want his neighbours to notice that there is an engineer visiting, because this would cause them to start asking questions.
And this is why he needs total secrecy.
He doesn't want his neighbours to work out that he is digging full as earth out of his land, because that might cause them to realise they've got full as earth under their land, and then they will dig it out and sell it and they will make a fortune from it.
Stark, as we know, is planning to buy their land without them realising that it's full of this valuable mineral.
Hatherley continues to accept the job, even though things are pretty suspicious.
And this is.
You'll see, this is a pattern throughout the story that, as things get more and more suspicious and dangerous, there are loads of red flags.
There are red flags everywhere.
But Hatherley's like, no, I'm going to keep doing this.
I'm sure it's going to be fine, despite all of the red flags that warn him.
At this point, Sherlock Holmes is advising me to drink some water because it's time.
So let me drink some water and then we'll continue with part three.
We will continue with part three.
That sounds strange when I talk into the bottle.
I sound like a robot.
Luke, Luke, trust your feelings.
Now that's Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Luke, Luke, I am your father.
They must have hidden the stolen plans in the escape pod.
That's my Darth Vader.
They must have hidden the stolen plans in the escape pod.
Commander, send a detachment down.
See to it personally.
You will not disappoint me this time.
It's my Darth Vader impression.
All you need is a half empty bottle of something and you can become Darth Vader.
It's so simple.
Anyway, this is not Star Wars.
This is Sherlock Holmes.
Let's continue with part three.
So after he left, after Stark left, I sat and thought about it all.
The more I considered it, the stranger it seemed.
On the one hand, I was thrilled to finally have some work.
And such a well-paid job, too.
50 guineas for a single night's work.
It was at least ten times what I would normally ask.
Maybe it would lead to more business down the line.
But on the other hand the Colonel's strange manner, the secrecy and the odd explanation about the fuller's earth didn't quite sit right with me.
Why the late hour?
Why the insistence on total silence?
Still, I pushed my doubts aside, ate a good dinner, went to Paddington Station and took care to follow the Colonel's instructions to the letter.
I didn't breathe a word to anyone.
At Reading, I had to switch not just trains but stations as well.
I managed to catch the last train to Iford and arrived at the tiny, dimly lit station shortly after 11 o'clock.
I was the only passenger to get off and the platform was empty, except for one sleepy porter with a lantern.
The porter is like the person who basically stands on the station, like the member of station staff.
Someone who works for the railway, right?
Standing there with a lantern.
As i passed through the gate, i saw the colonel waiting in the shadows.
He didn't say a word, just grabbed my arm and rushed me to a carriage which was already waiting with the door open.
Once we were both inside, he pulled down the blinds over the windows and tapped on the wooden panel.
The carriage started moving immediately as fast as the horse could manage one horse.
Holmes interrupted.
Yes, just one.
Did you see what colour it was?
Yes, I caught a glimpse of it in the side lights.
It was chestnut.
That's the colour of the horse.
Did it look tired or fresh?
Fresh.
Glossy coat.
It had a glossy coat.
It looked fresh.
Thank you.
Sorry for the interruption.
Please continue.
So off we went, bumping along the country roads at quite a speed.
Colonel Stark had said the house was seven miles away, but given how long we travelled and how rough the ride was, I'd guess it was closer to twelve.
He sat beside me in silence the entire way, and more than once I noticed him studying me with that same intense stare.
I tried looking out of the window, but the glass was frosted, so all I could make out were occasional glows of passing lights.
Now and then.
I tried to make conversation to break the awkward silence, but he only responded with one-word answers.
Eventually I gave up.
Finally, after about an hour, I felt the road smooth out beneath us.
Gravel instead of dirt, and the carriage came to a stop.
The colonel jumped out and as I followed, he hurried me into a dark porch right in front of the entrance.
I barely had time to glance around before the door slammed shut behind us.
I heard the faint rattle of wheels as the carriage drove off into the night.
Off it went.
So here's a summary of part three, the strange journey to the house.
So Hatherley travels by train to Iford late at night.
He takes several trains.
He has to change trains, change to different stations.
He ends up at Iford late at night.
Stark meets him.
They are alone.
Except for the station porter who stands or sits with his lantern on the station platform.
But Stark meets him and immediately rushes him into a carriage pulled by a single horse.
Holmes asked about the condition of the horse.
He was like, did it look tired or was it fresh?
Hatherley said that it seemed to be fresh.
It didn't look tired.
The carriage then rides for about an hour with the blinds down and frosted windows.
If windows are frosted, it means you can't really see through them.
They let light through, but you can't see through.
Them frosted not by ice, but just.
They're designed that way so you can't see through.
So the blinds were down, the windows were frosted, he couldn't see outside.
Eventually they arrived at a large isolated country house.
And now we continue with part four.
It was pitch black inside.
The colonel fumbled around for matches, muttering under his breath.
Then suddenly, a door at the far end of the hallway opened and a beam of golden light spilled out towards us.
A woman appeared, holding a lamp above her head.
She leaned forward, squinting to see us.
She was young and pretty, and the way the light reflected off her dark dress told me the fabric was expensive.
She said something in a foreign language, sounding like she was asking a question.
When the Colonel replied with a gruff word, she jumped so suddenly that she nearly dropped the lamp.
He hurried to her, whispered something in her ear, then gently pushed her back into the room she'd come from.
Then he returned with the lamp and turned to me.
"'Would you mind waiting in here for a few minutes?' he said, opening another door.
I stepped into a small, simply furnished room with a round table in the middle and some German books scattered across it.
He placed the lamp on a harmonium next to the door and he said I will not be long before vanishing into the dark hallway.
I glanced at the books, two looked like scientific texts, the others were German poetry.
I went over to the window hoping to get a sense of where I was, but it was blocked by a heavy oak shutter and it was bolted closed.
Heavy oak shutter these are wooden covers that go over the front of a window.
So they were.
The shutters were closed and the the window was bolted with metal bolts so he couldn't open the window and couldn't see outside.
The silence in that house was eerie.
I could hear an old clock ticking somewhere, but nothing else.
The quiet was so complete it was unsettling.
I started to feel increasingly uneasy.
Who were these people?
What were they really doing here in the middle of nowhere?
And where was I exactly?
I knew I'd come about ten miles from Iford, but in which direction?
North?
South?
I had no idea.
Reading and other large towns might have been nearby, but from the silence alone I was sure we were in the countryside.
I walked back and forth across the room, humming a tune softly to keep my spirits up.
Humming.
At that point I felt like I was earning every penny of my fifty-guinea fee.
Suddenly, without a sound, the door opened slowly.
The woman I'd seen earlier stood in the doorway, the darkness of the hall behind her, the lamp's light illuminating her anxious, beautiful face.
She was terrified.
I could see it instantly.
The fear in her expression sent a chill down my spine.
She raised a trembling finger to her lips to signal silence.
Then she whispered in broken English, her eyes darting nervously behind her like a frightened animal.
I would go, she said softly.
I would not stay.
It is no good for you.
But madam, I replied, I haven't done what I came here to do.
I can't leave without seeing the machine.
It is not worth it, she said urgently.
Go now.
You can go through the door.
No one will stop you.
I smiled and shook my head.
And she seemed to become desperate.
She stepped forward, wringing her hands.
It's like rubbing her hands together because she feels so anxious.
For the love of heaven, she whispered, leave before it is too late.
But I can be quite stubborn by nature.
And the more someone warns me off something, the more determined I become.
I thought of the long journey I'd made, the money I'd been promised, and how foolish it would be to leave without finishing the job.
This woman might just be unwell or maybe overexcited.
So, despite my unease, I stood my ground and said I would stay.
She was about to plead again when a door slammed upstairs and we heard footsteps approaching from above.
She listened for a second, threw up her hands in despair and vanished into the darkness without another word.
Here's a quick summary of that part.
This is the woman's warning.
So inside the house, Hatherley is left in a room by Stark.
He puts him in this room and then he briefly sees the woman that had appeared at the doorway earlier.
Apparently this woman is with Stark.
She knows him or whatever, but she seems very scared.
She seems very anxious and terrified and frightened.
And when Stark leaves Hatherley alone, she secretly comes back to him in the room and begs him to leave immediately.
You must go, she says.
And she says his life is in danger.
Now any normal person in this situation.
I think you and I would probably at this point be like right, I've had enough of this.
I'm out of here.
That would be the normal thing to do.
But no, this is a suspenseful, thrilling story.
And as we know, in this kind of story, just like in horror films, all characters in horror films...
They never do the right thing.
And in the face of clear, obvious danger, they will always just walk straight into it, right?
You're in a cabin in the forest and you hear strange, frightening noises.
What should you do?
Lock the door and stay inside?
No, let's go outside into the forest, investigate.
In a similar way.
Hathaway here, despite being told his life is in danger and despite all the other red flags, he is determined to just keep going.
So he ignores the warning because he wants his money and he wants to finish the job.
So anyway, let's continue now with part five.
OK, everyone, here we go.
A moment later, the colonel returned, this time accompanied by a short, thick-set man with a bushy beard that covered his round face.
This is like a short sort of strong-looking, maybe large, large but short man with a bushy beard all over his face.
The colonel introduced him.
This is Mr. Ferguson, my secretary and manager, he said in a very dodgy accent.
By the way, I thought I'd closed this door earlier.
You must have opened it.
You probably felt a draft.
Exactly, I said.
Yeah, I opened it myself because the room felt stuffy.
He gave me one of those suspicious looks again.
Well, shall we get down to business, he said.
Mr. Ferguson and I will take you to see the machine.
Let me just get my hat first, I said.
No, there is no need for that.
The machine is located inside the house.
What, you dig full as earth indoors?
No, no, this is where we compress it.
Just come and have a look.
All we need is your opinion on what is wrong, and that will be the end of it.
We all headed upstairs, Colonel Stark leading the way with the lamp and mr ferguson and i following behind.
The house was like a maze.
The corridors twisted and turned, the stairs were narrow and winding and the doors were small with worn-down thresholds.
There was no carpet, no furniture above the ground floor and the walls were crumbling in places, with green patches of damp seeping through.
So this is a very old kind of rambling house in bad condition, quite a creepy place.
I tried to stay calm and act like none.
Of this bothered me, but I remembered the woman's warning and watched my two guides carefully.
Ferguson didn't say much.
And though he seemed surly and withdrawn, so surly is like not particularly pleasant in his behaviour.
He seemed a bit sort of like rude maybe and withdrawn, basically not talking very much, sort of introverted.
Rude, introverted, quiet, not particularly ingratiating behavior.
So even though he seemed surly and withdrawn, I could tell from his accent he was probably English.
Now, in the story, that is supposed to make you go, oh, he's probably all right then.
So although he looks kind of like mean and not very nice and not friendly, he's got an English accent.
So, well, that's what a relief.
Eventually, Colonel Stark stopped at a low door which he unlocked with a key from his pocket.
Inside was a tiny square room, barely big enough for the three of us.
Ferguson stayed outside while the Colonel led me in.
"'We are now,' said the Colonel, "'actually inside the hydraulic press.
This chamber is directly beneath the piston.
If someone were to start the machine while we were in here, it would crush us flat like a pancake.'
The ceiling is the bottom of the piston.
It comes down with enormous force onto the metal floor.
The pressure is channeled through water inside cylinders.
You will, of course, be familiar with the hydraulic process.
I love the way Stark is explaining how a hydraulic press works to the hydraulic engineer.
Obviously, he's doing that so that we understand how the system works.
But basically, they're in the room.
They're actually inside the hydraulic press.
The ceiling is the piston, the part that comes down.
That is the actual ceiling of this room.
And it comes down and onto the metal floor and squashes whatever is underneath it.
This is apparently what they use to make bricks out of the fuller's earth, so that they can then package it and transport it.
Right.
He says the pressure is channeled through water inside cylinders.
You will, of course, be familiar with the hydraulic process.
"'The mechanism works, but there is a stiffness in it, and we've noticed a drop in pressure.
We want you to have a look and tell us what is wrong, that is all.'
I took the lamp from him and inspected the machinery closely.
It was enormous and clearly built to exert a tremendous amount of force.'
After examining the inner workings, I stepped outside and tested the levers, the controls.
I could immediately hear the soft whish of water leaking somewhere.
It meant pressure was escaping.
So when he tries it, he investigates it and he tries to make it work, and he can hear the sound of water leaking from part of the machine, which meant that there was pressure escaping.
He continues.
I traced the problem to one of the rubber washers the little rubber part in one of the pistons.
A washer is something that helps the parts fit together.
This one was made of rubber.
He said it had shrunk just enough that no longer properly sealed its socket, letting the water leak through.
That was clearly the issue.
Those little leak issues.
I explained everything to the Colonel and Ferguson and they both listened attentively, asking smart technical questions about how to fix it.
Right, let's carry on.
After I finished advising them, I went back into the chamber to satisfy my own curiosity.
The machine was so large and powerful I found it hard to believe it was being used just to compress Fuller's earth.
The walls were wooden, but the floor was made of a solid iron trough.
A solid iron thing, maybe that might carry something.
Anyway, the floor was made of a solid iron trough, and when I inspected it closely I noticed a crust of metallic residue all over it.
So, like bits of metal, maybe residue, like metal that's left after...
Something has been made with metal or something, so the remains of something metallic on the ground.
I bent down to scrape at the crust and get a better look when I suddenly heard a muttered word in German behind me.
I looked up to see Colonel Stark's pale, hollow face glaring down at me.
What are you doing? he asked sharply.
I felt a surge of anger.
I'd been taken in by this ridiculous story about Fuller's Earth.
I was just admiring your Fuller's Earth, I said coldly.
I can give you better advice if I understand what the machine's really used for.
The moment I said those words, I regretted it.
His face turned to stone, and a nasty glint appeared in his eyes.
Very well, he said.
You'll find out exactly what it is used for.
With that, he stepped back, slammed the little door behind me, and locked it with a snap.
I lunged at the door, rattling the handle, kicking and shoving it, but it was solid and didn't budge.
Hey!
I shouted.
Colonel, let me out!
Then, in the sudden silence, I heard something that froze my blood and put a lump in my throat.
The hiss of the leaking cylinder. and the heavy clank of the machine starting up.
He had turned the press on.
The lamp I'd used still sat on the floor, and by its light I saw the black iron ceiling beginning to descend slowly unevenly, but with unstoppable force.
I knew better than anyone what that machine was capable of.
In less than a minute it would flatten me.
I screamed and pounded the door.
I tore at the lock with my fingers shouting, begging him to stop, but the clanking drowned out everything.
The ceiling was now only a few feet above me.
I reached up and felt its cold, rough surface.
A horrible thought struck me.
The position I died in would affect how painful it was.
If I lay on my stomach, the press would crush my spine.
If I lay on my back and looked up at it, would that be easier?
Could I face it?
Just then, a sliver of hope appeared.
The walls were wooden, even though the floor and ceiling were iron, and between two of the boards I noticed a faint line of light.
It widened.
A panel was sliding open.
At first I thought I was imagining it, but no, it was real.
A hidden door.
I didn't hesitate.
I threw myself through the gap and collapsed on the other side, half conscious, my heart pounding.
The panel shut behind me, and a second later I heard the lamp smash and then the horrific clang as the iron plates came together.
If I'd hesitated even a second longer I would have been crushed.
So here's a summary of that.
So, while explaining the machine, Hathaway notices that the floor is made of iron, not wood, and it's covered in metallic residue.
The remains of some sort of metal work.
He realizes the machine is not used for Fuller's Earth, but for something else.
Finally, he's realised that this is not right.
When Hatherley hints that he understands the truth, Stark suddenly locks him inside the press chamber and starts the machine.
The iron ceiling begins coming down. and will definitely crush Hatherley.
He desperately looks for a way out.
He spots a hidden sliding panel in the wooden wall, which is opening.
We don't know yet why it's opening or who's opening it, but there is a little hidden wooden door which is being slid open and he escapes just in time, seconds before the hydraulic press slams shut, breaking his lamp which he left in there.
Sherlock Holmes is suggesting I drink some more water at this point.
He's saying, Luke, have some water, Luke.
Perhaps a dash of brandy will help clear your mind.
Well, no, I don't have brandy, but just simple water, a simple glass of water will suffice.
A simple glug of water.
Do you think, does Darth Vader drink water?
Would he drink water?
Your Highness, Emperor Palpatine, could you perhaps give me a glass of water?
I'm absolutely parched.
Lord Vader, your reliance on water is a sign of weakness.
Only the Jedi drink water.
Something like that.
And meanwhile, Darth Vader's like, bloody bastard.
I know I'm an evil dark Sith Lord, but working for the Emperor, it's no fun at all.
Anyway, this is Sherlock Holmes, not Star Wars.
So, Hathaway has just escaped from the press, which has crushed the lamp behind him.
He's just avoided being crushed to death in the most horrible way.
We don't know who opened the little door, but he's now lying on the ground. recovering.
So let's continue part seven.
I lay on the stone floor, dazed, gasping for breath.
Then I felt someone tugging at my wrist.
So someone's pulling his arm.
It was the same woman, the one who tried to warn me.
She held a candle in one hand and was pulling me with the other.
Come, come, she whispered urgently.
They'll be here in a moment.
They'll see you're gone.
This time I didn't question her.
I staggered to my feet, and together we ran down the corridor, then down a twisting staircase.
At the bottom was another hallway, and just as we reached it we heard voices shouting, some above us, some below.
The woman looked around desperately, then opened a door into a bedroom.
Moonlight streamed through the window, your only chance.
She said it's high but you might survive the jump, so she's suggesting that he jumps out the window.
Just then we saw a light coming down the corridor and the lean shape of colonel stark running towards us, a lantern in one hand and something like a butcher's cleaver in the other.
So Stark is running down the corridor, approaching them in this room.
He's got a lantern, a light in one hand, and a butcher's cleaver.
This is a sort of very sharp, kind of like a knife, but it's somewhere between a knife and an axe.
It would be used by a butcher for chopping up bits of meat.
It's like a heavy knife that would be used to chop meat. meat.
It's capable of cutting bone.
Not something you want to see coming towards you in the hand of a homicidal character like Colonel Stark.
So Colonel Stark is running with this meat cleaver in his hand.
I rushed to the window, flung it open.
Luckily, this one wasn't bolted shut.
I rushed to the window, flung it open and looked out.
The garden below looked calm and peaceful in the moonlight and about 30 feet down.
30 feet is what?
How far away is that?
10 metres?
I climbed onto the sill.
That's the little edge of the window.
I climbed onto the windowsill, but hesitated.
I didn't want to jump until I knew the woman would be safe.
The colonel reached the door and tried to force his way past her, but she blocked him.
Fritz!
Fritz!
She cried in English.
Apparently his real name is Fritz then.
Fritz, Fritz, remember what you promised last time.
I don't know why she chooses to speak to him in English.
Anyway.
Remember what you promised last time.
You said it wouldn't happen again.
He'll keep quiet.
I know he will.
You're mad.
You're mad, Elise, he shouted, struggling to push past.
You'll ruin everything.
He's seen too much.
Get out of my way.
So he's desperate to kill Hatherley because he's seen too much.
She's saying, no, no, remember what happened last time.
So apparently he's already killed people in the past who maybe found out some things about whatever it is that he's doing.
He shoved her aside, rushed at me and swung the cleaver just as I was about to let go of the window ledge.
The blow, the cleaver, the edge of the, The knife edge, the knife blade struck my hand as I still hung from the windowsill.
I felt a sharp pain and then I fell.
I hit the ground hard, but luckily I wasn't seriously hurt.
I scrambled to my feet and ran into the bushes, knowing I was still in danger.
But soon a wave of dizziness and nausea hit me.
I looked down at my throbbing hand and only then saw that my thumb had been cut off.
Blood was pouring out.
I tried to tie my handkerchief around the wound, but before I could, everything went dark and I fainted among the rose bushes.
So here's what's happened there.
So the frightened woman helps him flee, helps him escape through the house.
She's the one who opened the little door.
And Stark chases them with this heavy knife, a butcher's cleaver.
They reach a bedroom window.
The woman blocks Stark while Hatherley jumps out.
To be fair to Hatherley, he does hesitate because he wants to make sure she's safe.
Stark swings the cleaver and Hatherley, at this point, is hanging from the window by his hands.
Stark swings the butcher's cleaver and cuts off Hatherley's thumb as he is hanging and about to drop from the window.
Hatherley falls into the garden. manages to hide in some bushes.
These are like low trees.
He hides in the bushes and then faints from blood loss or from the trauma because he's lost his thumb.
He left his thumb behind.
Part eight.
I don't know how long I was unconscious, but it must have been quite a while.
When I finally came to, when I woke up, when I came to, came back to consciousness, the moon had set and the sky was turning bright with morning.
My clothes were soaked with dew.
That's like moisture that arrives during the night.
My clothes were soaked with dew and the sleeve of my coat was drenched in blood from my wounded hand.
The sharp pain in my arm brought everything rushing back to me.
I jumped to my feet, my heart racing, afraid that the people from the house might still be searching for me.
But as I looked around...
I was shocked to see that I wasn't in a garden anymore.
I was lying in a dip beside a hedge, right next to a road, and just down the road was a long low building.
As I walked towards it, I realised with astonishment that it was the very same station where I'd arrived the night before.
Somehow, during the night, I'd been carried all the way back here and laid by the road.
If it weren't for the pain in my hand, I might have thought the whole thing had been a bad dream.
Still feeling weak and dazed, I walked into the station and asked when the next train to Reading would be.
There was one due in less than an hour.
I recognised the same porter from the night before and asked him whether he'd ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark.
The name meant nothing to him.
I asked if he'd seen a carriage waiting at the station for me the previous night.
No, he hadn't.
Was there a police station nearby?
About three miles away, he said.
That was too far to walk in my condition, so I decided to wait until I was back in London to report the incident.
I caught the train, and as soon as I arrived, I went to a doctor to have my wound treated.
And then that doctor, Dr Watson here, brought me straight to you, Mr Holmes.
I'm ready to do whatever you advise.
Okay, so what's happened there?
So Hatherley wakes up next to Iford Station, surprisingly enough.
He wakes up next to the station.
It seems that someone has carried him back there. while he was unconscious.
So while he was unconscious, someone carried him all the way back to just next to the station.
No one at the station knows anything about someone called Stark or the carriage.
They don't know anything about it.
So he returns to London.
He gets medical help from Dr. Watson and then tells Watson and Holmes all about his story.
So, part nine then.
Holmes, Watson, Hatherley in the room.
We sat in silence for a moment after he finished.
Then Holmes stood up and pulled one of his scrapbooks from the shelf, the ones where he kept useful newspaper clippings.
"'Here's something I think you'll find interesting,' he said, flipping through the pages." it appeared about a year ago in all the papers listen lost on the 9th of this month mr jeremiah hailing age 26 hydraulic engineer left his lodgings at 10 p.m and has not been seen since was dressed in and so on good lord gasped hatherley that must be the other man the woman spoke of No doubt about it, Holmes said.
This Colonel Stark is clearly a cold-blooded man who will stop at nothing to protect his operation.
It's like those old-time pirates who left no survivors.
Well, if you're up to it, we should go to Scotland Yard immediately and then head for Iford to investigate.
So Holmes has found or remembered a newspaper report which he keeps, which he's kept in a scrapbook, about another missing hydraulic engineer.
So he had he kept the newspaper report because probably Sherlock Holmes himself.
He's interested in things like that unsolved disappearances and things that he reads about in the newspaper.
And he kept that one in a scrapbook and he opens it up and reads it.
It's about another hydraulic engineer who went missing sometime before, weeks or months ago.
Apparently, this man disappeared after going out on a late night job, just like Hatherley did.
Holmes concludes that Stark and his gang...
Murder engineers who learn too much.
Yes, he's saying basically, clearly this man Stark and his gang, they need engineers for something.
And if those engineers work out what's going on, they get killed.
A bit like pirates in the past who left no survivors.
Yeah.
Right, part 10.
Nearly at the end of this story, what's going on?
Here we go.
About three hours later, we were on a train from Reading to the little village of Iford.
Along with Holmes.
Mr Hatherley and myself were Inspector Bradstreet of Scotland Yard and a plainclothes officer.
So there's five of them now.
Holmes, Watson, Hatherley, Inspector Bradstreet, a police officer and a plainclothes officer.
That's a police officer, just but not in uniform.
On the seat between us, Bradstreet had spread out a large map of the county and was using a compass to draw a 10 mile radius circle around Iford.
There, he said.
You said you were taken about ten miles from the station, right?
So the house must be somewhere near the edge of this circle.
Roughly an hour's drive, Hatherley confirmed.
And you think they carried you all the way back while you were unconscious?
Well, they must have.
I vaguely remember being lifted and moved.
I just don't get why they didn't kill you when they had the chance, I said.
Maybe the woman convinced them to spare you.
I doubt it, said Hatherley grimly.
I've never seen a face as ruthless as the Colonel's.
Well, we'll soon know for sure, said Bradstreet.
The only question is...
Where along this circle is the place?
So Bradstreet has drawn a circle, 10 kilometre circle, around Iveford and they think, based on what Hatherley told them about the carriage ride, the time it took and stuff, that it must have been within about 10 kilometres of the station.
And now they're trying to guess where exactly, where on the edge of the circle this house might be.
So Holmes says, I think I can pinpoint it.
Holmes said calmly.
Really, said the inspector.
Let's hear your guess then.
I say the house is to the south, quieter country there.
I say east, offered Hatherley.
West for me, said the plain-clothes man.
Lots of little hidden villages.
And I'll say north, I added.
The roads there are flatter.
Hatherley didn't notice going uphill.
Bradstreet laughed.
Well, that's the full compass covered.
Holmes, whose side are you on?
So they all think it's in different directions, north, south, east and west.
Holmes, though, what does he think?
Well, you're all wrong, Holmes said with a slight smile.
This is where the house is.
He pointed directly at the centre of the circle.
What? gasped Hatherley.
But that's where the train station is.
The house was at least twelve miles away.
No, Holmes said.
Six miles out, six miles back.
Think about it.
You said the horse was fresh when you got in the carriage.
That wouldn't be the case if it had just done a twelve-mile trip over country roads.
The whole thing was a trick.
They took you in a big loop, just to make you think you'd gone far from the station.
Oh, that's a clever trick, said Bradstreet, nodding.
And now it all makes sense.
We've suspected for a while there's a large-scale counterfeiting ring operating in the area.
They've been turning out fake half-crowns by the thousands.
A counterfeiting ring.
Counterfeiting, this is making fake money, right?
Printing or pressing, whatever, making fake money.
In this case, fake coins.
They've been turning out fake half-crowns by the thousands.
A half-crown was a type of coin in those days.
So basically, they were a counterfeiting ring.
A ring here means a gang or an organised group of people.
A counterfeiting ring have been operating in the area.
So the police have known for a while that there is a group making fake money in the area.
So let's continue the text.
We traced them as far as Reading, but lost them there.
They covered their tracks well.
But this, this might be a breakthrough.
So the policeman is saying that, yes, they knew that there was a gang making fake money in the area.
And this looks like it could be the breakthrough that maybe we're going to find them.
He's thinking, but he was wrong.
As we pulled into Iford Station we saw a towering column of smoke rising from a grove of trees nearby, like a huge black feather hanging in the sky.
Looks like a fire, Bradstreet said.
What a brilliant detective.
Looks like a fire.
Yes, sir, said the stationmaster when we asked.
When did it start?
Sometime during the night, sir, I believe.
But it's worse now.
The whole place is ablaze.
Whose place is it?
Whose house is it?
Dr. Besher's.
Hatherley jumped in.
Tell me, was Dr. Besher a very thin man?
A foreigner?
Sharp nose?
The stationmaster burst out laughing.
Oh, no, sir.
Dr. Besher's as English as roast beef and about as plump.
Plump meaning a bit fat.
But he did have a guest recently, a foreign gentleman.
Looked like he could use a few good meals.
So they're talking to a member of staff about the house that's on fire.
It's owned by someone called Dr. Besher, who apparently is very English and plump.
So that must be, is it Ferguson?
And he said, well, he did have a guest as well.
A foreign gentleman looked like he could use a few meals.
If someone looks like they could use a few meals, it means they're thin.
That must be stark.
So we didn't wait for more.
We headed straight toward the fire.
As we came over a hill, we saw the house a wide whitewashed building completely engulfed in flames.
So it's burning.
It's on fire.
Fire engines were already there, but it was clear they were struggling to contain it.
So fire engines were there, but they were struggling to stop the fire.
"'That's the place!'
Hatherley shouted.
"'That's the gravel drive!
And those rose bushes!
Right there!
That's where I landed after I jumped!'
That second floor window is the one I escaped from.
Well, at least, Holmes murmured, you got your revenge.
No doubt your oil lamp smashed when the press closed on it.
And that started the fire.
I imagine they were too busy chasing you to notice.
But keep your eyes open, he added.
See if you recognise anyone in the crowd. but none of the faces were familiar.
Holmes had been right.
They were long gone.
So part 10, summary, the police raid fails.
There's failure.
They don't find the criminals.
Holmes, Watson, Hatherley and police go to Iford.
Holmes realises the carriage ride was a loop, not a long journey.
So the carriage ride Stark took Hatherley out and back again, making it seem that the house was far away from the station.
It was a trick to mislead Hatherley and make him get the wrong idea.
In fact, the house was very close to the station.
Holmes worked this out because of the horse.
The horse, when it picked up, Hatherley was not tired at all.
It was fresh, so it clearly had not already made one half of the journey.
And so he realised that it must have been nearby, and the carriage ride was a trick to make Hatherley think the place was far away from the station, when actually it was nearby.
The fresh horse proves that they never went far.
The house must be close to Iford Station, not miles away.
So they see a house burning fiercely.
There's a house on fire.
It turns out to be the same house that Hatherley escaped from.
The fire was likely started by the smashed oil lamp inside the press.
But the criminals have already escaped with their counterfeit coins.
And so we then get to the final part of the story.
Later that day a local farmer reported seeing a cart carrying several people and some large crates speeding toward Reading early that morning.
So a local farmer said that he saw a cart that's like a simple wooden carriage pulling people, several people and some crates.
Those are sort of kind of like boxes speeding towards Reading early that morning.
So that must have been them, the criminals, escaping with their money, with their counterfeit money.
After that, no one had seen or heard from them again.
Not the woman, not the colonel, not Mr. Ferguson.
The woman...
Oh, I see.
No one had seen or heard from them again.
None of them.
The woman, the Colonel, the Ferguson, no one saw anything of them.
I wonder what happened to the woman, because she didn't seem to be particularly happy with these dodgy guys.
When the fire was finally out by sunset, the house was little more than a shell.
The roof had collapsed and the machinery inside was twisted wreckage.
The only thing left of Hatherley's ordeal was a severed thumb found on the windowsill of the second floor.
So the thumb was still there, even though the house, apparently the ceiling, had come down, the roof had come in, the machinery was all twisted and melted and stuff.
The thumb was still there on the windowsill.
They did find large amounts of nickel and tin.
These are types of metal stored in an outbuilding, but no coins.
That explained the crates on the cart.
The crates must have been full of coins.
The criminals had escaped with the last of their counterfeit money, leaving behind just enough for us to understand what they'd been doing.
As for how Hatherley ended up by the road, that mystery was solved by the soft earth, the ground.
They could see markings on the ground.
There were tracks, footprints of two people walking, one with unusually small feet and one with very large ones, showing that he'd been carried from the garden to the roadside, probably by the woman and Mr Ferguson.
Perhaps the Englishman had a bit more conscience than the Colonel.
Yeah, maybe.
Maybe the woman and Ferguson, who's perhaps not quite as murderous or homicidal as Colonel Stark, dragged him to the road where he perhaps might be able to you know escape.
Well, said Hatherley with a rueful smile as we boarded the train back to London.
It's been quite an adventure.
I've lost my thumb. and missed out on my fifty guineas.
And what did I gain?
Experience, Holmes replied, chuckling.
And an extremely compelling story.
If you tell it well, I think people will find you very good company for the rest of your life.
Okay, that's the end.
Let me just summarise at the end.
So police find nickel and tin, the metals used to make the fake coins, proving probably that that's what was going on.
The hydraulic press was being used to mint, to create money, to mint coins, counterfeit half-crowns.
The criminals escaped with the finished money in crates.
We don't really know the story, who they are, where they came from.
What's the situation with the woman?
What's the relationship between the three of them?
The mystery is actually unsolved, which is actually kind of rare in Sherlock Holmes stories.
So this is a fairly exceptional one.
The criminals are not brought to justice.
They don't get caught.
They don't get punished.
Justice is not served.
And the mystery is actually unsolved at the end.
So who knows what happened to them, where they went and what they did with their counterfeit money.
Hatherley's severed thumb is found on the window ledge of the house.
Footprints show that two people carried him to the road, probably the woman and Ferguson, who was perhaps less homicidal than Stark.
But Stark and his gang are never caught.
Hatherley loses his thumb and his 50 guineas, but he gains his life and a dramatic story to tell.
And Holmes Riley comments that the experience will make him excellent company forever.
And he's not wrong.
I mean obviously, if that happened to you it would be, And losing your thumb would be a terrible thing.
I mean, these days, you know, like doctors hospitals, surgeons are pretty clever and they can actually graft.
They can take one of your toes and graft it onto your hand and give you a sort of replacement thumb.
I've seen that.
I've seen people.
I remember when I had a student once.
I think he had three fingers on his hand.
I can't remember what had happened.
Maybe it was an industrial accident.
But he had only three fingers on his hand.
By the way, he was an excellent table tennis player.
I don't know if that makes any difference, but he had three fingers on his hand, the hand he used to hold the bat to play table tennis.
He told me about it and I was like, you know, I did ask him, I was like, what happened to your hand?
And he said, well, yeah, I had this accident and the doctors managed to take one of my toes.
Was it?
Either it was one of his toes or And they put it on his hand.
He lost two of his other fingers and one of his toes were put there.
Or actually, I think it was his little finger.
I think that's what it was.
It was the little finger from his hand had been used as his thumb.
They'd taken the finger and put it where the thumb normally was.
I don't know what happened to the other finger, but he ended up with three fingers, with a little finger used as a thumb.
And he was able to hold a tennis table bat. in his hand, and continues to play table tennis.
I don't know if it gave him an advantage at all.
He was able to get extra spin on the bat or something, but that was quite interesting.
So I don't know, maybe these days, if that happened to Hatherley, he might be able to get his thumb you know something else grafted onto his hand, so he'd have something a replacement as a thumb.
But otherwise, how awful.
And also, he didn't get his 50 guineas that he was so keen to get.
But Holmes is right.
At least he has got fantastic story to tell, and that's always a good thing to have.
It's always good to have stories that you can tell people, stories that you can share about your life, and you will always be good company if you have a really great story and a great experience to share with people, which is something to remember.
If you have a bad experience, if you ever have a particularly bad experience, As long as you feel mentally up for it, it's always fascinating to be able to share those experiences with people.
People love to hear our stories, which is something to consider in English.
Think about your life.
Think about the stories that you tell.
They don't have to be as obviously as dramatic as that, but we often do tell stories about our lives.
Even if that is just describing, for example, our career path, or Or if you're living in a different country, there's always this story of how you ended up living there.
Or if you do a certain job, how did you end up doing that job?
If you have a job interview, the interviewers might ask you to describe your career path.
So you need to be able to practice telling those stories in English.
We all have various stories and anecdotes that we tell about our lives.
Can you tell them in English?
Maybe it's not as dramatic as being taken by a gang to a house and then losing your thumb while jumping from a window.
But still, it's always good to have stories that you can share.
I hope you enjoyed this.
I hope you listened all the way through and that you are not a skeleton with headphones on.
I hope you still have both thumbs open. attached.
If you don't, then tell us what happens.
That would be fascinating if you are happy to do it.
If you got to this point, leave a comment in the comments section just to show that you're not a skeleton with headphones on.
And I want you to use the key word.
I was thinking...
What would be a good word to use in your comment to show that you listened to this far?
It would be obvious to say thumb.
It would be obvious to say story.
Hmm.
OK, thumb.
Let's use the word thumb.
I know it's a bit of an obvious one, but let's see if you can use the word thumb in your comment.
If you comment to show that you've you've listened this far, you could say two thumbs up.
Maybe that is an expression we say thumb.
You know, I wanted to give you a thumbs up or two thumbs up for this story if you liked it.
Yeah, that would be good.
Remember you can get the PDF in the episode description, the whole story text including a lot of highlighted words that in the end I didn't choose to explain because I just wanted to focus on the flow of the story.
But I'm sure there must have been words and phrases in there that you didn't understand, that maybe went over your head, and So it would be a good idea to go back into the story text investigate, look at some of the words and phrases that we used and explore them, look them up in dictionaries or whatever tools you use.
And that could be a way to, you know, push your English further with this episode.
But if you just... chose only to listen for enjoyment.
I hope you enjoyed it.
I hope you were able to follow the story.
And I did it.
I managed to do it despite a slightly difficult beginning where I didn't quite know.
I couldn't quite get the gears of the podcast moving properly.
I'm glad that I made it through.
The accent was this German accent.
I don't know what that was.
It wasn't really a German accent.
As I said earlier, it was an attempt at a kind of It wasn't really a Werner Herzog impression, but somewhere similar.
Anyway, leave your comments in the comment section.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for watching.
Don't forget to like and subscribe.
Tell your friends about Luke's English Podcast.
Share the word.
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Leaving a positive review always helps.
Share the episode and otherwise have a lovely morning, afternoon, evening or night.
And I will speak to you next time.
But for now, it's just time to say goodbye.
Bye bye.
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