Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of the Cardboard Box: Part Two

Episode Date: October 30, 2025

As Holmes and Watson rush to uncover the mystery behind the severed ears, a curiously tied knot leads to a revelation. And a sailor’s dark confession unveils a twisted tale of jealousy, betrayal and revenge.   A Noiser podcast production.    Narrated by Hugh Bonneville   Written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle  Produced by Katrina Hughes and Duncan Barrett Script Supervisor: Addison Nugent  Sound Design and Audio Editing by The Soundhouse Studios Sound Supervisor: Tom Pink  Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines  Mix & Mastering: The Soundhouse Studios Series Consultant: Dan Smith  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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The substance. This balance is not working. And the naked gun. That was awesome. Now that's a mountain of entertainment. Welcome to Sherlock Holmes short stories. I'm Hugh Bonneville, and from the Noiser podcast network, this is The Adventure of the Cardboard Box, Part 2. Last time, Holmes received a letter from Inspector Lestrade regarding a peculiar case. A Miss Susan Cushing of Croydon had recently received a macabre package in the mail,

a cardboard box containing two human ears preserved in salt. Holmes and Watson traveled to Croydon to examine the gruesome delivery. Initially, the police believed it was a cruel prank by medical student former lodgers with a grudge against Miss Cushing. However, upon examining the ears, Holmes dismissed this theory. For one, they were not a matching pair. One belonged to a woman, the other a man. They were also freshly cut with a blunt instrument and contained no signs of the preserving fluid used in medical dissection.

These details convinced Holmes that they were looking at a double murder. When questioning Miss Cushing, Holmes discovered she had two sisters, Sarah and Mary. Mary was married to a sailor named Jim Browner, who struggled with alcoholism. Sarah once lived with Miss Cushing, but moved out due to frequent quarrels. There were also tensions between Sarah and Jim Browner. Holmes abruptly ended the interview with Miss Cushing and headed to Sarah's home, only to be turned away by a doctor who claimed she was gravely ill. Unfazed, Holmes left and went straight to Inspector Lestrade,

informing him that he had solved the case and handed him a piece of paper with the culprit. name. Now, our heroes are back at Baker Street discussing the case. You know what's better than the one big thing? Two big things. Exactly. The new iPhone 17 Pro on Tullis' five-year rate plan price lock. Yep, it's the most powerful iPhone ever, plus more peace of mind with your bill over five years. This is big. Get the new iPhone 17 Pro at tellus.com slash iPhone 17 Pro on select plans. Conditions and exclusions apply. The case, said Sherlock Holmes, as we chatted over our cigars that night in our rooms at Baker Street,

is one where, as in the investigations which you have chronicled under the names of a study in scarlet and of the sign of four, we have been compelled to reason backward from effects to causes. I have written to Lestrade asking him to supply us with the details which are now wanting and which he will only get after he has secured his man. That he may be safely trusted to do, for although he is absolutely devoid of reason, he is as tenacious as a bulldog when he once understands what he has to do. And indeed it is just this tenacity which has brought him to the top at Scotland.

Scotland Yard. Your case is not complete, then, I asked. It is fairly complete in essentials. We know who the author of the revolting business is, although one of the victims still escapes us. Of course, you have formed your own conclusions. I presume that this Jim Browner, the steward of a Liverpool boat, is the man whom you suspect. Oh, it is more than a suspicion. And yet I cannot see anything, say very vague indications. On the contrary, to my mind, nothing could be more clear. Let me run over the principal steps. We approached the case, you remember, with an absolutely blank mind,

which is always an advantage. We had formed no theories. We were simply there to observe and to draw inferences from our observations. What did we see first? A very placid and respectable lady, who seemed quite innocent of any secret, and a portrait which showed me that she had two younger sisters. It instantly flashed across my mind that the box might have been meant for one of these.

I set the idea aside as one which could be disproved or confirmed at our leisure. Then we went to the garden, as you remember, and we saw the very singular contents of the little yellow box. The string was of the quality which is used by sail-makers aboard ship, and at once a whiff of the sea was perceptible in our investigation. When I observed that the knot was one which is popular with sailors, that the parcel had been posted at a port, and that the male ear was pierced for an earring, which is so much more common among sailors than landsmen, I was quite certain that all the actors in the tragedy were to be found among our seafaring classes. When I came to examine the address of the packet, I observed that it was to Miss S. Cushing. Now, the oldest sister would, of course, be Miss Cushing. and although her initial was S, it might belong to one of the others as well.

In that case, we should have to commence our investigation from a fresh basis altogether. I therefore went into the house with the intention of clearing up this point. I was about to assure Miss Cushing that I was convinced that a mistake had been made when you may remember that I came suddenly to a stop. The fact was that I had just seen something which filled me with surprise, and at the same time narrowed the field of our inquiry immensely. As a medical man, you are aware, Watson, that there is no part of the body which varies so much as the human ear. Each ear is a rule quite distinctive and differs from all other ones.

In last year's anthropological journal, you will find two short monographs from my pen upon the subject. I had therefore examined the ears in the box with the eyes of an expert, and had carefully noted their anatomical peculiarities. Imagine my surprise, then, when on looking at Miss Cushing, I perceived that her ear corresponded exactly with the female ear which I had just inspected.

The matter was entirely beyond coincidence. There was the same shortening of the pinna, the same broad curve of the upper lobe, the same convolution of the inner cartilage. In all essentials, it was the same. ear. In the first place, her sister's name was Sarah, and her address had until recently been the same, so that it was quite obvious how the mistake had occurred and for whom the packet was meant. Then we heard of this steward, married to the third sister, and learned that he had at one

time been so intimate with Miss Sarah that she had actually gone up to Liverpool to be near the Browners, but a quarrel had afterwards. divided them. This quarrel had put a stop to all communications for some months, so that if Browner had occasion to address a packet to Miss Sarah, he would undoubtedly have done so to her old address. And now the matter had begun to straighten itself out wonderfully. We had learned of the existence of this steward, an impulsive man of strong passions. You remember that he threw up what must have been a very superior birth in order to be nearer to his wife. wife, subject too to occasional fits of hard drinking.

We had reason to believe that his wife had been murdered, and that a man, presumably a seafaring man, had been murdered at the same time. Jealousy, of course, at once suggest itself as the motive for the crime. And why should these proofs of the deed be sent to Miss Sarah Cushing? Probably because, during her residence in Liverpool, she had some hand in bringing about the events which led to the tragedy. You will observe that this line of boats call at Belfast, Dublin and Waterford, so that, presuming that Browner had committed the deed and had embarked at once upon

his steamer, the May Day, Belfast would be the first place at which he could post his terrible packet. A second solution was at this stage obviously possible, and although I'm not a second solution was at this stage obviously possible, and although I thought it exceedingly unlikely, I was determined to elucidate it before going further. An unsuccessful lover might have killed Mr. and Mrs. Browner, and the male ear might have belonged to the husband. There were many grave objections to this theory, but it was conceivable.

I therefore sent off a telegram to my friend Algar of the Liverpool force, and asked him to find out if Mrs. Browner were at home, and if Browner had departed in the maze. day. Then we went on to Wallington to visit Miss Sarah. I was curious in the first place to see how far the family ear had been reproduced in her. Then, of course, she might give us very important information, but I was not sanguine that she would. She must have heard of the business the day before, since all Croydon was ringing with it, and she alone could have understood for whom the packet was meant. If she had been willing to help justice, she would probably have

communicated with the police already. However, it was clearly our duty to see her so we went. We found that the news of the arrival of the packet, for her illness dated from that time, had such an effect upon her as to bring on brain fever. It was clearer than ever that she understood its full significance, but equally clear that we should have to wait some time for any assistance from her. However, we were really independent of her help. Our answers were waiting for us at the police station, where I had directed Algar to send them.

Nothing could be more conclusive. Mrs. Browner's house had been closed for more than three days, and the neighbours were of opinion that she had gone south to see her relatives. It had been ascertained at the shipping offices that Browner had left aboard of the May Day, and I calculate that she is due in the Thames tomorrow night. When he arrives, he will be met by the obtuse but resolute Lestrade, and I have no doubt that we shall have all our details filled in. Sherlock Holmes was not disappointed in his expectations.

Two days later he received a bulky envelope which contained a short note from the detective and a typewritten document which covered several pages of full scan Lestrade has got him all right said Holmes glancing up at me perhaps it would interest you to hear what he says My dear Mr Holmes

In accordance with the scheme which we had formed in order to test our theories the wee is rather fine, Watson, is it not? I went down to the Albert Dock yesterday at 6pm and boarded the SS May Day, belonging to the Liverpool, Dublin and London Steam Packet Company. On inquiry, I found that there was a steward on board of the name of James Browner

and that he had acted during the voyage in such an extraordinary manner that the captain had been compelled to relieve him of his duties. On descending to his birth, I found him seated upon a chest, with his head sunk upon his hands, rocking himself to and fro. He is a big, powerful chap, clean-shaven and very swarthy, something like Aldridge, who helped us in the bogus laundry affair. He jumped up when he heard my business, and I had my whistle to my lips to call a couple of river police who were around the corner, but he seemed to have no heart in him, and he held out his hands quietly enough for the Derby's. We brought him along to the cells and his box as well,

for we thought there might be something incriminating. But, bar a big sharp knife, such as most sailors have, we got nothing for our trouble. However, we find that we shall want no more evidence, for on being brought before the inspector at the station, he asked leave to make a statement, which was, of course, taken down just as he made it, by our shorthand man. We had three copies typewritten, one of which I enclose.

The affair proves, as I always thought it would, to be an extremely simple one, but I am obliged to you for assisting me in my investigation. With kind regards, yours very truly G. Lestrade. The investigation really was a very simple one, remarked Holmes, but I don't think it struck him in that light when he first called us in. However, let us see what Jim Browner has to say for himself. This is his statement as made before Inspector Montgomery at the Shadwell Police Station, and it has the advantage of being verbatim. Have I anything to say?

Yes, I have a deal to say. I have to make a clean breast of it all. You can hang me or you can leave me alone. I don't care a plug which you do. I tell you I've not shut an eye in sleep since I did it, and I don't believe I ever will again until I get past all waking. Sometimes it's his face, but most generally it's hers. I'm never without one or the other before me.

He looks frowning and black-like, but she has a kind of surprise upon her face. Aye, the white lamb, she might well be surprised when she read death on a face that had seldom looked anything but love upon her before. But it was Sarah's fault. May the curse of a broken man put a blight on her and set the blood rotting in her veins. It's not that I want to clear myself. I know that I went back to drink like the beast that I was. But she would have forgiven me. She would have stuck as close to me as a rope to a block if that woman had never darkened our door. For Sarah Cushing loved me.

That's the root of the business. She loved me until all her love turned to poisonous hate. When she knew that I thought more of my wife's footmark in the mud than I did of her whole body and soul. There were three sisters altogether, the old one was just a good woman, the second was a devil, and the third was an angel. Sarah was 33 and Mary was 29 when I married. We were just as happy as the day was long when we set up house together, and in all Liverpool, there was no better woman than my Mary. Then we asked Sarah up for a week And the week grew into a month

And one thing led to another Until she was just one of ourselves I was blue ribbon at that time And we were putting a little money by And all was as bright as a new dollar My God Whoever would have thought that it could have come to this Whoever would have dreamed it

I used to be home for the weekends Very often and sometimes if the ship were held back for cargo, I would have a whole week at a time, and in this way I saw a deal of my sister-in-law, Sarah. She was a fine, tall woman, black and quick and fierce, with a proud way of carrying her head, and a glint from her eye like a spark from a flint. But when little Mary was there, I had never thought of her, and that I swear, as I hope for God's mercy. It had seemed to me sometimes that she liked to be alone with me or to coax me out for a walk with her, but I had never thought anything of that. But one evening my eyes were opened. I had come up

from the ship and found my wife out, but Sarah at home, where's Mary? I asked. Oh, she has gone to pay some accounts. I was impatient and paced up and down the room. "'Can't you be happy for five minutes without Mary, Jim?' says she. "'It's a bad compliment to me that you can't be contented with my society for so short a time.' "'That's all right, my lass,' said I, putting out my hand towards her in a kindly way. But she had it in both hers in an instant, and they burned as if they were in a fever. I looked into her eyes, and I read it all there. There was no need for her to speak nor for me either.

I frowned and drew my hand away. Then she stood by my side in silence for a bit and then put up her hand and patted me on the shoulder. Steady, old Jim, said she, and with a kind of mocking laugh, she ran out of the room. From that time, Sarah hated me with her whole heart and soul, and she is a woman who can hate, too.

I was a fool to let her go on biding with us, a besotted fool, but I never said a word to Mary, for I knew it would grieve her. Things went on much as before, but after a time I began to find that there was a bit of a change in Mary herself. She had always been so trusting and so innocent But now she became queer and suspicious Wanting to know where I'd been And what I'd been doing and whom my letters were from And what I had in my pockets and a thousand such follies Day by day she grew queerer and more irritable

And we had ceaseless roused about nothing I was fairly puzzled by it all Sarah avoided me now but she and Mary were just inseparable. I can see now that she was plotting and scheming and poisoning my wife's mind against me, but I was such a blind beetle that I could not understand it at the time. Then I broke my blue ribbon and began to drink again.

But I think I should not have done it if Mary had been the same as ever. She had some reason to be disgusted with me now, gap between us began to be wider and wider. And then this Alec Fairburn chipped in, and things became a thousand times blacker. It was to see Sarah that he came to my house first, but soon it was to see us, for he was a man with winning ways, and he made friends wherever he went. He was a dashing, swaggering chap, smart and curl. who had seen half the world and could talk of what he'd seen. He was good company, I won't deny it,

and he had wonderfully polite ways with him for a sailor man, so that I think there must have been a time when he knew more of the poop than the forecast. For a month he was in and out of my house, and never once did he cross my mind that harm might come of his soft, tricky ways. And then at last something made me suspect, and from that day my peace was gone for. forever. It was only a little thing, too. I'd come into the parlour, unexpected, and as I walked in at the door, I saw a light of welcome on my wife's face. But as she saw who it was, it faded again,

and she turned away with a look of disappointment. That was enough for me. There was no one but Alec Fairbairn, whose step she could have mistaken for mine. If I could have seen him, then I should have killed him, for I've always been like a madman when my temper gets loose. Mary saw the devil's light in my eyes, and she ran forward with her hands on my sleeve. Don't, Jim, don't, says she. Where's Sarah? I asked.

In the kitchen, says she. Sarah, says I as I went in, this man, Fairbairn, is never to darken my door again. Why not, says she, because I order it. Oh, says she, if my friends are not good enough for this house, then I am not good enough for it either. You can do what you like, says I. But if Fairbairn shows his face here again, I'll send you one of his ears for a keepsake. She was frightened by my face, I think, for she never answered a word,

and the same evening she left my house. Craving an escape Bring the vibrant flavors of Mexican street eat energy To life in your kitchen with Tia Rosa Tortillas. Born in Mexico, Tia Rosa knows how to turn your next taco night at home and do the real deal. Find Tia Rosa Tartillas at select grocery stores and get the good vibes going. Well, I don't know now whether it was pure devilry on the part of this woman,

or whether she thought that she could turn me against my wife by encouraging her to misbehave. Anyway, she took her house just two streets off and let lodgings to sailors. Fairbairn used to stay there, and Mary would go round to have tea with her sister and him. How often she went, I don't know, but I followed her one day. And as I broke in at the door,

Fairbairn got away over the back garden wall, like the cowardly skunk that he was. I swore to my wife that I would kill her if I found her in his company again and I led her back with me sobbing and trembling and as white as a piece of paper.

There was no trace of love between us any longer. I could see that she hated me and feared me and when the thought of it drove me to drink then she despised me as well. Well, Sarah found that could not make a living in Liverpool. So she went back, as I understand, to live with her sister in Croydon, and things jugged on much the same as ever at home. And then came this week

and all the misery and ruin. It was in this way. We had gone on the May Day for a round voyage of seven days, but her hogshead got loose and started one of our plates, so that we had to put back into port for twelve hours. I left the ship and came home thinking what a surprise it would be for my wife and hoping that maybe she would be glad to see me so soon. The thought was in my head as I turned into my own street and at that moment a cab past me. And there she was, sitting by the side of Fairbairn.

The two chatting and laughing. But never a thought for me as I stood watching them from the footpath. I tell you, And I give you my word for it, that from that moment I was not my own master. And it is all like a dim dream when I look back on it. I had been drinking hard of late, and the two things together fairly turned my brain. There's something throbbing in my head now like a docker's hammer. But that morning I seemed to have all Niagara whizzing and buzzing in my ears.

well I took to my heels and I ran after the cab I had a heavy oak stick in my hand and I tell you I saw red from the first but as I ran I got cunning too and hung back a little to see them without being seen they pulled up soon at the railway station there was a good crowd round the booking office so I got quite close to them without being seen

they took tickets for New Brighton so did I but I got in three carriages behind them. When we reached it, they walked along the parade, and I was never more than a hundred yards from them. At last I saw them hire a boat and start for a row, for it was a very hot day, and they thought no doubt, that it would be cooler on the water.

water. It was just as if they had been given into my hands. There was a bit of a haze, and you could not see more than a few hundred yards. I hired a boat for myself, and I pulled after them. I could see the blur of their craft, but they were going nearly as fast as I, and they must have been a long mile from the shore before I caught them up. The haze was like a curtain all round us, and there were we three in the middle of it. My God, shall I ever forget their faces when they saw who was in the boat that was closing in upon them? She screamed out. He swore like a madman and jabbed at me with an awe, for he must have seen death in my eyes. I got past it and got one in with my stick that crushed his head like an egg. I would have spared her perhaps

for all my madness, but she threw her arms round him, crying out to him and calling him Alec. I struck again, and she lay stretched beside him. I was like a wild beast then that had tasted blood. If Sarah had been there by the Lord, she should have joined them. I pulled out my knife, and there, I said enough. It gave me a kind of savage joy when I thought how Sarah would feel. when she had such signs as these of what her meddling had brought about. Then I tied the bodies into the boat, stover plank, and stood by until they had sunk. I knew very well that the owner would think that they had lost their bearings in the haze

and had drifted off out to sea. I cleaned myself up. Got back to land and joined my ship without a soul having a suspicion of what had passed. That night, I made up the packet for Sarah Cushing, and next day I sent it from Pelfast. There you have the whole truth of it. You can hang me, or do what you like with me, but you cannot punish me as I have been punished already. I cannot shut my eyes, but I see the those two faces staring at me, staring at me as they stared when my boat broke through the haze. I killed them quick, but they are killing me slow, and if I have another night

of it I shall be either mad or dead before morning. You won't put me alone into a cell, sir. For pity's sake, don't. And may you be treated in your day of agony as you treat me now. What is the meaning of it, Watson? said Holmes solemnly as he laid down the paper. What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable. But what end? There is the great standing perennial problem to which human reason is as far from an answer as ever.

Next time on Sherlock Holmes short stories, Holmes and Watson explore the dark side of scientific discovery in The Adventure of the Creeping Man. When a distinguished professor begins to exhibit bizarre and animalistic behavior, those closest to him are left disturbed and frightened. Once known for his brilliance, he now prowls the corridors at night, creeping on all fours and exhibiting unnatural agility. As Holmes and Watson dig deeper, they uncover a tale of obsession and the monstrous consequences of defying nature. But will they unravel the secret behind the professor's terrifying. midnight transformations before tragedy strikes.

Find out next time. or click the link in the episode description.