Capital, my dear Watson. Let us return to our humble abode. 221B Baker Street, please, carry. From London we present The Bruce Partington Plans. A play for radio based on the short story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The Bruce Partington Plans. In the third week of November, 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday, I doubt whether it was ever possible to see from my windows in Baker Street the loom of the opposite house.
Homes placed restlessly about our city room in a fever of suppressed... Nothing of interest in the paper, Watson? Well, I told you, Hermes, nothing that would interest you. Then the London criminal is certainly a dull fellow. Look out of this window. See how the fingers loom up, are dimly seen, and then blend once more into the cloud bank? A thief or murderer could roam London like a tiger in the jungle, unseen until he bounces.
Come in. A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes. By Jove, something at last to break the monotony. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Will there be any answer, sir? No. No, there won't be a reply. Thanks. Listen to this, Watson. Must see you over Cadogan West coming at once. Mycroft. Your brother. Well, why not? Why not? See, my croft here will be tantamount to meeting a tram car in a country lane.
He has his rails and he runs on them. This is well off his track. You've met him, of course. Oh, he's only once. That affair of the Greek interpreter, something under government, isn't he? Occasionally he is the British government. Mycroft draws 450 a year, remains a subordinate, has no ambitions of any kind, will receive neither honour nor title, but remains the most indispensable man in the country.
Again and again, his word has decided the national policy. I see. But he mentions the Cadogan West. Now, who are the... Ah, wait a minute, Holmes. That's the young man found dead on the underground on Tuesday morning. Yes, Mrs. Hudson? Mr. Mycroft told us an inspector of... Oh, come in. Come in, Micah. Thank you. And you, Lestrade. Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You remember my friend Watson, Micah. Of course. Good morning, Doctor. Delighted, Mr. Holmes.
How are you, Inspector? Morning, Doctor. An unexpected pleasure, my car. Oh, take the chair, do you? Thank you, Sherlock. And they say, I must have a choice. I have an extreme dislike of altering my habits, but the powers that be would take my denial. I've never seen a Prime Minister so upset. An heir to the Admiralty.
Have you read the case, Sherlock? Cadogan West? Yes, such as I was to read. Ah, newspapers, very sketch of the service. Now listen carefully. The man's name was Arthur Cadogan West. He was twenty-seven, unmarried, and a clerk at Woolwich Hospital. Ah. Now do be quiet, fellow. West was last seen on Monday night by his fiancée, Miss Violet Westbury. He left her abruptly in the fog at 7.30 that evening. There had been no quarrel between them, and she can give no motives for his actions.
The next thing heard of him was when his dead body was discovered just outside Ogip's station on the underground system. But all this was in the newspaper. Yes, but what has fortunately not emerged is that the wretched youth had in his pocket... The plans of the Bruce Parkington submarine. The devil? Yes. Its importance can hardly be exaggerated. The plans have been kept in an elaborate safe and a confidential office adjoining the office.
The office has burglar-proof doors and windows, and under no conceivable circumstances were the plans to be taken from it. Really? But if they were found in the dead man's pocket, surely that means you've recovered them. Ten documents are known to be missing from Woolwich. Cadogan West was carrying only seven when he was signed.
The three most essential are gone. Solemn, finished. I've jotted down one or two facts for you. The official guardian of the papers is Sir James Walter, a man whose patriotism is beyond suspicion. He left the arsenal at three o'clock on Monday afternoon and was at the house of Admiral Sinker in London that whole evening.
The papers were in the safe when Sir James locked it before leaving, and the key was never subsequently out of his possession. Has anyone else a key? Only one. The senior clerk and draftsman Sidney Johnson. According to his own account, corroborated only by his wife, he was at home the whole of Monday evening, and his key never left his watch chain. And the dead man, Cadogan West? Ten years in the service, and a good worker. His duties brought him into daily contact with the plans.
No one else had the handling of them, except Sidney Johnson, who locked them up at night. Oh, then surely it must have been West himself who took them. At least, so much unexplained, Dr. Watson. In the first place, why did he take them? Well, they must be valuable. He was taking them to London to sell.
But he was carrying them back to Woolies when he met his death. Well, then he'd take them and be copied by someone, so they'd never be missed next day. Admirable deduction. But allow me to point out that old gate where the body was found is considerably past London Bridge, which would have been his route to Woolies. Perhaps he got arguing with someone else in the compartment and got carried past under bridge.
They had a point and the other chucked him out on the line. Well, suppose for argument's sake that young West had carried these papers to London to show to a foreign agent... He would have made an appointment with his agent and get his evening clear. Yet I understand. He was with his fiancée. And then left her suddenly in the fog. That's quite so, Mr Holmes. They were on their way to the Woolies Theatre. Well, my friend...
Your traitor is dead. And the plans of the Bruce Partington submarine are presumably on the continent by now. What is there for us to do? To act, Sherlock, to act. Very well. Come, Watson. And you'll come with us to all get stationed too, Leslie? Oh, pleasure, Mr. Holmes. I suppose Mycroft. No, the Prime Minister. I was forgetting. Very well. I shall let you have a report before evening, but I warn you not to expect too much.
This is just where the body lay. You see, it couldn't have fallen from above. They had blank walls. It could only have come from a train. So far we can trace it, that train must have passed about midnight on Monday. You said the trains have been searched for food. Have any signs of violence come to life? Nothing. Not even a report of a door being found. Ryan? Ah! Holmes, what have you seen? Point!
The points just along here. Well, what about them? Well, surely there aren't many sets of points on a straight system like this. Well, I shouldn't have thought so. And a curve, too. Points and a curve. By Joe. What is it, Mr. Holmes? Oh, my dear, nothing more. Tell me, was there much blood here when the body was found? Hardly any. No external wound. Oh, yes. One big one. But no blood. And yet one would have expected some bleeding.
Mr. Trader, would it be possible for me to examine the train which is sent to a pass this way at midnight on Monday? Afraid not, Mr. Holmes. We gave permission for the train to be broken up and the carriages put back into service separately. In that case, Watson, we've done all we can here. We needn't trouble you further, Lestrade.
See some light in the darkness, but it may possibly flicker out. Meanwhile, please send to await my return to Baker Street a complete list of all foreign spies or international agents known to be in England. with full addresses SH. There, Watson. That'll do. My boss should get it within the hour. Are we going back to Baker Street now? No, to Woolwich. I have told of one idea which may lead us far.
The man met his death elsewhere, and his body was on the roof of the carriage. On the roof? Is it a coincidence that the body is found at the very point where the train pitches and sways as it comes round on the point? Isn't that the place where an object on the roof might be expected to fall off? My Jove, it's an idea.
And you think he was killed elsewhere because there was no blood beside the line? Both facts are suggested in themselves. Together they have accumulated thought. But Holmes, does it always make the whole business more of a mystery? Perhaps, perhaps. But come along. We must have this telegram in and make our way to Woolwich. We have quite a little round of afternoon calls to make, and I think Sir James Water claims our first position.
Good afternoon, gentlemen. Good afternoon. We should be grateful if Sir James Walter could spare us a few moments. Sir James, sir? Yes. He passed away this morning, sir. Great heavens. Would you kindly tell me how he died? Perhaps he would care to step in, sir, and see his brother, Colonel Valentine. Yes. Yes, we have best to do that. It was this horrible scandal, Mr. Holmes. My brother was a man of very sensitive honor. He could not survive such an affair.
He was also proud of his department, and this was a cracking blow. Rove his heart. I quite understand, Colonel. We had hoped that he might have been able to tell us something which would have helped to clear the matter up. I assure you, it was as much a mystery to him as it is to all of us.
Can you throw any new light on this affair yourself, Colonel? I only know what I've read or heard. My brother had no doubt that Cadogan West was guilty, and neither have I. And now, gentlemen, I have no desire to be discourteous, but you will appreciate that I have many matters to attend to. Now, do not distress yourself, Miss Westbury. But you were the last person known to have seen your fiancée alive.
And we must look to you for any clue. I cannot explain it, Mr. Holmes. I haven't shut an eye since the tragedy thinking. Thinking, thinking, night and day what the true meaning of it can be. Why, Arthur was the most single-minded, chivalrous, patriotic man on earth. Was he in need of money? Not at all, Doctor. His salary was ample.
We were to marry in the new year. No signs of any mental excitement? Well, I... I had a feeling there was something on his mind. For long? Well, only for the last week or so. He was thoughtful and worried. Once I pressed him about it and he admitted it was something official.
He said, it's too serious for me to speak about, even to you. Something official? Did he make any reference to plans, to secrets? Well, he did remark how much some people would be glad to pay to read some of the papers he used in his work. He said there was a slackness about guarding them, that it would be easy for a traitor to get them. I see.
Now, you were on your way to the theatre, I must say. Oh, yes. The fog was so thick that a cab would have been useless, so we were walking. Our way took us quite close to his office at the Arsenal, but suddenly he darted away into the fog. I waited, but he never returned, so I walked home. About twelve the next day, we heard the terrible news. Oh, Mr. Holmes, if you could only, only save his honour. It was so much to him.
As senior clerk of the submarine department, Mr. Johnson, I thought you might be able to enlighten us on this matter. The place is disorganized. The chief dead, Cadogan West dead. and our papers stolen. Mr. Johnson, I understand that only you and Sir James Walter had a key to the safe where the secret papers were given. That is so. And you can take it as gospel, Mr. Holmes, that neither of us ever let that key out of our possession.
Then Cadogan West, if he is the culprit, must have had a duplicate. Yet none was found on his body. Another point, Mr. Johnson. If a clerk in this office desired to sell the plan... Wouldn't it be simpler to copy them here rather than remove the original? Well... It would take considerable technical knowledge to copy the plans properly. But I suppose that James or West or you all had that knowledge. Now, don't try to bring me into it, Mr. Holmes. The plans were found on West.
It's a dumb thing, isn't it, that he should take the originals, but he could have made copies. Every inquiry in this case reveals something inexplicable. Now, Mr. Johnson, there are three papers still missing. Do I understand that someone holding these three alone and without the seven others could construct a Bruce Partington submarine? Well, not in time.
unless that someone had invented some essential mechanism for himself, that he'd be able to overcome the difficulty in time. So the missing drawings are the three most important? Oh, undoubtedly. I reported to that effect of the... Coffee, please, Mrs Hudson. For two suffocated wanderers. Very good, sir. The fog is still as bad, then? As dense as ever. Oh, here's an urgent message brought by hand a few minutes ago.
Oh, thank you. I'll fetch the coffee directly. This investigation is like a fog itself. Every few paces forward reveals a fresh obstacle ahead. What have you got there? Ah, my brother Mycroft has been doing his duty. The list of agents you asked for? Yes. Most of them small fries. Oh, what a pity. Ah, but listen. The only men worth considering are Adolf Meyer, Louis LaRofiere, and Hugo Oberstein.
The latter lives at 13 Caulfield Gardens, Kensington, and is known to have been in town on Monday, though he is now reported as having left. The cabinet awaits your final report with the utmost anxiety. The whole force of the state is at your back if you should need it. I'm afraid that all the Queen's horses and all the Queen's men can avail little in this. Things are turning a little in our direction at last. Watson!
I do honestly believe we're going to pull it off after all. I don't pretend to follow you, Holmes. I'm going out now. But why... Oh, no, no. It's only a reconnaissance. I shan't do anything serious without my trusted comrade and biographer at my elbow. Thank you. Now, stay here. And the odds are that you'll see me again in an hour or two. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! It's time, Hank, maybe. Get full step and then and begin your narrative of how we save you.
All that long November evening I waited, filled with impatience for his return. At last, shortly after nine o'clock, there arrived a messenger with a note which said, I'm dining at Goldini's Restaurant Gloucester Road. Please come at once and join me there. Bring with you a jemmy, a dark lantern, a chisel, and a revolver. Try one of the proprietor's cigars, Matthew. What? Oh, hang on. They're less poisonous than one would expect. Thank you.
Have you brought the tools? Yes, sir. Now, here I have my overcoat. Nice equipment for respectable citizens to carry back in the falls. Let me give you a short sketch of what I've done with some indication of what we are about to do. Yes, yes, carry on. Now then, it must be evident to you that this young man's body was placed on the roof of the train. Placed? But couldn't it have been dropped from a bridge? I should say impossible. You will find that the roofs are slightly rounded.
And there are no railings on them to keep anything from falling off. Yes, but how could he be placed there? There's only one possibility. You know that the underground runs clear of tunnels at some points in the West End? Oh, okay. That some of the house windows immediately overlook the line. Yes, that's right. Now, suppose a plane halted under such a window.
Would there be any difficulty in laying a body on a carriage? No, but it sounds highly improbable. When I was told that the leading international agent who had just left London... lived in a row of houses which my knowledge of London's topography reminded me of butts upon the underground. Yeah? I was so pleased that you were a little astonished at my sudden frivolity. Oh, you don't. Herr Hugo Oberstein of 13 Caulfield Gardens has become my objective.
I've already ascertained not only that the back stair windows of his house open onto the railway line, but also that going to the intersection of one of the larger railways, the underground trains are frequently held up at that spot. Plenty, Holmes. You got it. We advance, but the goal is this.
However, the bird has indeed flown, no doubt for the continent, to dispose of his booty, leaving the way clear for us to pay a visit to his house. Why not get a warrant and make it legal? Hardly, on the evidence. Now then, come on. Let us go. We'll walk to Caulfield Gardens, but I beg you not to drop the instruments on the way, Watson. Your arrest as a suspicious character would be an unfortunate complication.
leave a servant here in his house. Here we are, Watson. This is the window. Yes. Look at these discounts. blood, without a doubt. This is where they rested the body. Quickly, a train's coming. Now for a demonstration. Up the window. Now see what happens. Look, Watson. The carriage roofs are not four feet below us.
Masterpiece. You've never risen to greater height, Holmes. Oh, I cannot agree. From the moment I concede the idea of the body being on the roof, all the rest is inevitable. Oh, you can say so. But we must get on. A search of every private paper we can find No, the cunning dog has covered his tracks, Watson. He's left nothing to incriminate. Holmes. What is it? Take a look at these, will you? What have you got there? Oh, tippings from a newspaper agony column.
Daily Telegraph, judging by the print of the paper. Hoped to hear sooner, terms agreed to write fully to address given on card, purely. Matter presses must withdraw offer unless contract completed. Make appointment by letter, Pierrot. And this one says, Monday night after 9, 2.10.
Payment in hard cash when goods delivered, Piro. Monday night, Holmes. Monday night, the night of the murder. With scarcely a doubt, Watson. These clippings are very recent, and that one appears to be the last of the sequence. Oberstein's pseudonym for this business, I don't doubt. Oh, if only we could find who the messages are for, Holmes. Well, perhaps it won't be so difficult after all.
I think we might drive round to the offices of the Daily Telegraph on our way home and thus bring a good day's work to a conclusion. It's all right for you breaking into people's houses while they're away. We can't do these things in the Porsche, you know.
No wonder you get results of the beyond us. The results justify the means, in other words? But let's hear what you think of our achievement, Mycroft. Excellent, Sherlock. What use will you make in the discovery? Seen today's telegraph. No, not yet. Pierrot has advertised again. Tonight, same hour, same place. Two taps most vitally important. Your own safety at stake.
Pierre. Why, George, if he answers that, we've got it. That was my idea when I put it in. The hint of danger to himself will make him certain to obey it. Brilliant. So, gentlemen, if you could make it quite convenient to come at about eight o'clock to Caulfield Gardens, we might possibly get a little nearer to... I was well overstayed and didn't really decide to come. We shouldn't have been able to make him free with his ups. Keep your voice down, Watson. Any minute may bring up.
I've been saying that for three hours, Mr. Holmes. Something tells me your little scheme's fizzled out. Not at all, Lestrade. I put the same hour in the message, but that hour could be anything between eight and midnight. Well, it's gone eleven now. Someone outside the door. I can see his shadow on the glass. All still. Here he comes. Let him in, Watson. Keep in the shadow and say nothing very well. Right, ready. Great heavens, look who it is. Well, you can write me down and ask this time what.
This isn't the bird I was looking for. Who is he, Mr. Holmes? He's Colonel Valentine Walter, younger brother of Sir James Walter, the late head of the submarine department. I... I demand an explanation. What is all this? I came here to visit her oversight. Everything is known, Colonel Walter.
How an English gentleman could behave in such a manner is beyond my comprehension. I don't know what you're babbling about. For some reason, possibly financial, you entered into a correspondence that Oberstein... You no doubt took an impression of your brother's keys. You went down to the office in the fog on Monday night and were seen and followed by young Cadogan West.
He saw you steal the Bruce Parkington plans, and like the good citizen that he was, he followed you closely in the fog and kept at your heels until you reached this very house. Here, he intervened. And then it was, Colonel Walter, that to treason you added the more terrible crime of murder. No! No, I didn't! I swear I didn't! Then tell us how Cadogan West met his end before you laid his body on the roof of a railway carriage. I will! I will!
A stock exchange debt had to be repaid. I needed the money desperately. Oberstein also made $5,000. It was to save myself from ruin, don't you see? What? Murder? I'm as innocent as you. Then what happened? West already had his suspicions of me. Yes, he followed me as you described, though I never knew it in that fog until I was at this very door.
I'd given two taps, and Oberstein had come to the door as arranged. The young man rushed off and demanded to know what we were going to do with the plans. Oberstein just struck him. In five minutes. Well, then what did you do? Oberstein had this idea about the trains halting under his window. But first he examined the papers I brought. He said that three of them were essential and that he must keep them. You can't keep them, I said.
Everything will be discovered at Woolwich if they aren't returned. But he said he must keep them. They were too technical to copy quickly. And then he had this idea to put the other seven on West's body so that they would certainly be found and the whole fest would be put down to him. Where is he so prescribed with the papers now? I don't know. He said the letters to the Hôtel du Louvre in Paris were reaching. Anything else? There's nothing to tell you. I would if I could, believe me.
I owe the fellow nothing. He's been my downfall and ruined. Colonel Walter, it is within your power to ease your conscience and perhaps your punishment. It is? How? I'm going to place pen and paper before you, and you are going to write at my big page. You will be writing to Oberstein Kerr, the Hotel du Louvre, to tell him that you have discovered one more document which is of vital importance to the assembly of a Bruce Parkington submarine.
For this, you will ask for a further payment of 500 pounds. Well, I don't understand. I haven't finished. You will not trust the document to the post. But it would cause too much comet if you were to go abroad at this point. Therefore, you will tell Oberstein that you will expect him to be in the smoking room of the Sharing Trust Hotel at noon on Saturday. There. I think that will do very well.
I shall be very much surprised if it doesn't fetch our man. You know, Mr. Holmes, that's quite masterly. It is a matter of history that Oberstein did come. Eager to complete the coup of a lifetime, he fell into the trap and was safely engulfed for 15 years in a British prison. In his trunk were found the invaluable Bruce Partington player. Some weeks afterwards, I learned that Holmes had spent a day at Windsor, whence he returned with a remarkably fine emerald title.
When I asked him if he'd bought it, he answered that it was a present from a certain gracious lady in whose interests he had once been fortunate enough to carry out a small commission. That was The Bruce Partington Plans by Michael Hardwick, based on the short story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock Holmes was played by Carlton Hobbs and Dr. Watson by Norman Shelley. Production for the BBC was by Graham Gould.