Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - A Case of Identity: Part One

Episode Date: March 5, 2026

A jilted bride pays a visit to Baker Street, begging Holmes to find her missing fiancé.    But what has happened to the mysterious Mr Hosmer Angel… and will his devoted Mary ever see him again?    A Noiser podcast production.    Narrated by Hugh Bonneville   Written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle  Produced by Duncan Barrett  Script Supervisor: Chris McDonald  Sound Design and Audio Editing by Tony Onuchukwu  Sound Supervisor: Tom Pink  Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines  Mix & Mastering: Josh Latham Series Consultant: Dan Smith  Executive Producer: Katrina Hughes    For ad-free listening and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Just click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or go to noiser.com/subscriptions  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Visit medcan.com slash moments to get started. I'm Hugh Bonneville and welcome to Sherlock Holmes' short stories, the series where we delve into the files of fiction's most brilliant detective, following his keen mind and unerring instincts from the first subtle clue to the final dramatic revelation. This time, a young woman, Miss Mary Sutherland, walks into Holmes's Baker Street rooms with a tale of heartbreak and confusion. On the very morning she was due to marry,

her fiancé, Hosmer Angel, vanished without a trace. Was he the victim of some dreadful fate? Or could there be something far more calculating behind his disappearance? As Holmes begins to unravel the case, he senses deception lurking close to home. From the Noiser podcast network, this is A Case of Identity, Part One. "'My dear fellow,' said Sherlock Holmes, "'as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street,

"'life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. "'We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. "'If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, "'gently remove the roofs and peep in at the queer things which are going on, "'the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chain of events working through generations, and leading to the most utre results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions

most stale and unprofitable. And yet I am not convinced of it, I answered, the cases which come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bold enough and vulgar enough, we have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits. And yet the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic. A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realistic effect, remarked Holmes. This is wanting in the police report, where more stress is laid perhaps upon the platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details,

which to an observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter. "'Depend upon it. There is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace.' "'I smiled and shook my head. "'I can quite understand your thinking so,' I said. "'Of course, in your position of unofficial advisor and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled "'throughout three continents, you are brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. "'But here,' I picked up the morning paper from the ground, Let us put it to a practical test.

Here is the first heading upon which I come. A husband's cruelty to his wife. There's half a column of print, but I know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of course, the other woman. The drink, the push, the blow, the bruce, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude.

Indeed, you're not. "'Your example is an unfortunate one for your argument,' said Holmes, "'taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. "'This is the Dundas separation case, "'and as it happens I was engaged in clearing up some small points in connection with it. "'The husband was a teetotaler. "'There was no other woman, "'and the conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit of winding up every meal

"'by taking out his false teeth and hurling them at his wife, "'which you would allow is not a woman.' action likely to occur to the imagination of the average storyteller. Take a pinch of snuff, doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you in your example. He held out his snuff box of old gold with a great amethyst in the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it. "'Ah,' said he,

"'I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. it is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia, in return for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers. And the ring, I asked, glancing at a remarkable, brilliant, which sparkled upon his finger. It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of my little problems. And have you any on hand just now? I asked with interest. Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of interest.

They are important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime, the more obvious, as a rule, is the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents any features of interest.

It is possible, however, that I may have something better before very many minutes are over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken. He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds, gazing down into the dull, neutral-tinted London street. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood, a large woman with a heavy fur boa around her neck, and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat, which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her ear.

From under this great panoply, she peeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the bank, She hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp clang of the bell. I have seen those symptoms before, said Holmes, throwing his cigarette into the fire. Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affair to occur.

She would like advice, but is not sure that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet even here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man, she no longer oscillates. and the usual symptom is a broken bellwire. Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed or grieved, but here she comes in person to resolve our doubts. As he spoke, there was a tap at the door,

and the boy in buttons entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed merchantman behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable, and having closed the door

and bowed her into an armchair, he looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was peculiar to him. Do you not find, he said, that with your short sight it is a little trying to do so much typewriting?

I did at first, she answered, but now I know where the letters are without looking. Then, suddenly realizing the full purport of his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear and astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. You've heard about me, Mr. Holmes, she cried. Else, how could you know all that? Never mind, said Holmes, laughing. It is my business to know things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If not, why should you come to consult me. I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etheridge, whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you

would do as much for me. I'm not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides the little that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know what has become of Mr Hosmer Angel. In communities across Canada, hourly Amazon employees earn an average of over $24.50 an hour. Employees also have the opportunity to grow their skills and their paycheck by enrolling in free skills training programs for in-demand fields, like software development and information technology. Learn more at aboutamazon.ca. Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry? asked Sherlock Holmes, with his

fingertips together and his eyes to the ceiling. Again, a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss Mary Sutherland. Yes, I did bang out of the house, she said, for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windybank, that is my father, took it all. He would not go to the police and he would not go to you, and so at last, as he would do nothing, and kept on saying that there was no harm done,

it made me mad, and I'd just on with my things and came right away to you. Your father, said Holmes, your stepfather, surely, since the name is different, "'Yes, my stepfather. I call him father. "'Though it sounds funny, too, for he is only five years and two months older than myself. "'And your mother is alive?' "'Oh, yes, mother is alive and well.' "'I wasn't best pleased, Mr Holmes, when she married again so soon after father's death, "'and a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself.

"'Father was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, "'and he left a tidy business behind in which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman. "'But when Mr. Windybank came, he made her... sell the business for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines. They got £4,700 for the goodwill and interest, which wasn't near as much as Father could have got if he had been alive. I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling and inconsequential narrative, but on the contrary, he had listened with the greatest concentration of attention.

Your own little income, he asked. Does it come out of the business? Oh, no, sir, it is quite separate and was left me by my Uncle Ned in Auckland. It is in New Zealand's stock, paying four and a half percent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the interest. You interest me extremely, said Holmes, and since you draw so large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nice.

upon an income of about £60. Oh, I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understand that as long as I live at home, I don't wish to be a burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the time. Mr Windybank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over to Mother,

and I find that I can do pretty well with what I earn at typewriting. It brings me tuppence a sheet, and I can often do from 15 to 20 sheets in a day. you have made your position very clear to me, said Holmes. This is, my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Kindly, tell us now all about your connection with Mr. Hosmer Angel. A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she picked nervously at the fringe of her jacket. I met him first at the gas fitter's ball, she said.

They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us and sent them to Mother. Mr Windybank did not wish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday school treat. But this time I was set on going, and I would go, for what right had he to prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know,

when all father's friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I'd never so much as taken out of the drawer. "'At last, when nothing else would do, "'he went off to France upon the business of the firm, "'but we went, mother and I, "'with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, "'and it was there I met Mr. Hosma Angel.

"'I suppose,' said Holmes, "'that when Mr. Windybank came back from France, "'he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball. "'Oh, well, he was very good about it. "'He laughed, I remember, and shrugged his shoulders "'and said there was no use denying anything to a woman, for she would have her way. I see.

Then at the gas-fitter's ball you met, as I understand, a gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel. Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we had got home all safe, and after that we met him, that is to say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that, father came back again,

and Mr. Hosmer Angel would not come to the house anymore. No? Well, you know, Father didn't like anything of the sort. He wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say to Mother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not got mine yet.

But how about Mr Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you? Well, Father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer wrote and said that it would be safer, and better not to see each other until he had gone. We could write, in the meantime, and he used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for father to know. Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?

Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. Hosma—Mr. Angel, was a cashier in an office in Leavenhall Street, and what office? That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes. I don't know. Where did he live then? Well, he slept on the premises. And you don't know his address? No, except that it was Le Dedenhall Street.

Where did you address your letters, then? To the Leyenhall Street post office, to be left till called for. He said that if they were sent to the office, he would be chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his. But he wouldn't have that, for he said that when I wrote, them, they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten, he always felt that the machine had come between us.

That will just show you how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think of. It was most suggestive, said Holmes. It has long been an axiom of mind that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel? He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in the evening than in the daylight. for he said that he hated to be conspicuous, very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was gentle.

He'd had the quincy and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was always well-dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare. Well, and what happened when Mr. Windybank, your stepfather, returned to France? Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me swear with my hands on the testament that whatever happened I would always be true to him.

Mother said he was quite right to make me swear and that it was a sign of his passion. mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about father, but they both said never to mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him. I didn't quite like that, Mr Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave as he was only a few years older than me, but I didn't want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux,

where the company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the wedding. It missed him then, yes, sir, for he had started to England just before it arrived. Ah, that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged then for the Friday. Was it to be in church? Yes, sir, but very quietly.

It was to be at St Saviars near King's Cross, and we would have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom but as there were two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler which happened to be the only other cab in the street we got to the church first

and when the four-wheeler drove up he waited for him to step out but he never did and when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one there the cabman said that he could not imagine what had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes.

That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then to throw any light upon what became of him. You don't need AI agents, which may sound weird coming from service now, the leader in AI agents. The truth is, AI agents need you. Sure, they'll process, predict, even get work done autonomously. But they don't dream, read a room, rally a team,

and they certainly don't have shower thoughts, pivotal hallway chats, or big ideas. People do. And people, when given the best AI platform, they're freed up to do the fulfilling work they want to do. To see how ServiceNow puts AI to work for people, visit servicenow.com. It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated, said Holmes. Oh, no, sir. He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that whatever happened, I was to be true. and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us,

I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it. Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him? Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger.

or else he would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened. But you have no notion as to what it could have been? None. One more question. How did your mother take the matter? She was angry and said that I was never to speak of the matter again. And your father, did you tell him?

Yes. And he seemed to think with me that something had happened. and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my money or if he had married me and got my money settled on him,

there might be some reason. But Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me half mad, to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night. She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob heavily into it.

I shall glance into the case for you, said Holmes, rising, and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life. Then you don't think I'll see him again? I fear not. Then what has happened to him?

You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can spare. I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle, said she. Here is the slip and here are four letters from him. Thank you, and your address. number 31 Lion Place Camberwell. Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand.

Where is your father's place of business? He travels for West House and Marbank, the great Clarit importers of Fenchurch Street. Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book.

Do not allow it to affect your life. You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosma. He shall find me ready when he comes back. For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way,

with a promise to come again whenever she might be summoned. Next time, on Sherlock Holmes' short stories, a typewritten note provides a clue. A visit from Mary's stepfather proves illuminating. And Baker Street pays host to one of Holmes' most memorable showdowns. That's next time.

Can't wait a week until the next episode. Well, listen to it right away by subscribing to Noisor Plus. Head to www.org.com slash subscriptions for more information or click the link in the episode description. Ah, where are my gloves? Come on, heat.

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