Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb: Part One
Episode Date: January 30, 2025When a young engineer named Victor Hatherly stumbles into Dr. Watson’s surgery with a severed thumb, what appears to be a brutal work injury soon reveals itself as something far more sinister. As Ha...therly tells his bizarre story, Holmes and Watson soon find themselves drawn into a conspiracy featuring an enigmatic German industrialist, a lonely house in the countryside filled with secrets, and a machine with nefarious purpose. A Noiser production, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Narrated by Hugh Bonneville Produced by Katrina Hughes and Addison Nugent Sound Design and Audio Editing by Mirianna Latham & Thomas Pink Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines Mix & Mastering: Cody Reynolds-Shaw and Liam Cameron Series Consultant: Dan Smith For ad-free listening and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
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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 we embark on the adventure of the engineer's thumb,
one of Holmes' most unsettling cases, where greed and desperation collide in a powder keg of deception.
When a young man stumbles into Dr. Watson's surgery at dawn,
what appears to be a workplace injury soon
reveals itself as something far more sinister. A midnight train journey, a mysterious German
industrialist, a house with secrets behind every door, and a machine with a nefarious
purpose – all pieces of a puzzle only Sherlock can solve. From the Noiser Network, this is
The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb, Part 1.
Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes for solution
during the years of our intimacy,
there were only two which I was the means of introducing to his notice—that
of Mr. Hathaway's thumb, and that of Colonel Warburton's madness. Of these, the latter
may have afforded a finer field for an acute and original observer, but the other was so
strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details, that it may be the more worthy
of being placed upon record,
even if it gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of reasoning by which
he achieved such remarkable results.
The story has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, like all such
narratives, its effect is much less striking when set forth en bloc in a single half-column of print
than when the facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the mystery clears gradually
away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads on to the complete truth.
At the time, the circumstances made a deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two years
has hardly served to weaken the effect.
It was in the summer of eighty-nine, not long after my marriage, that the events occurred
which I am now about to summarize.
I had returned to civil practice, and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street
rooms, although I continually visited him, and occasionally even persuaded
him to forgo his bohemian habits so far as to come and visit us.
My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at no very great distance
from Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among the officials.
One of these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease, was never weary of advertising my virtues,
and of endeavoring to send me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence.
One morning, at a little before seven o'clock, I was awakened by the maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come from Paddington,
and were waiting in the consulting room. I dressed hurriedly for I knew by experience that railway cases were seldom trivial and hastened
downstairs. As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of the room and closed the door
tightly behind him. I've got him here, he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
He's all right.
What is it, then?
I asked, for his manner suggested that it was some strange creature which he had caged
up in my room.
It's a new patient, he whispered.
I thought I'd bring him round myself, then he couldn't slip away.
There he is, all safe and sound.
I must go now, Doctor.
I have my duties just the same as you."
And off he went, this trusty tout, without even giving me time to thank him.
I entered my consulting room and found a gentleman seated by the table.
He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft cloth cap, which he had
laid down upon my books. Round one of his
hands he had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all over with blood
stains. He was young, not more than five and twenty, I should say, with a strong
masculine face, but he was exceedingly pale, and gave me the impression of a man
who was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all his strength
of mind to control.
"'I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor,' said he, "'but I have had a very serious
accident during the night.
I came in by train this morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I might find a Doctor,
a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here.
I gave the maid a card, but I see that she has left it upon the side table.
I took it up and glanced at it.
Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic engineer, 16A, Victoria Street, third floor.
That was the name, style, and abode of my morning visitor.
I regret that I've kept you waiting, said I, sitting down in my library chair.
You are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself a monotonous occupation.
Oh, oh, my night could not be called monotonous, said he, and laughed.
He laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in his chair and shaking
his sides.
All my medical instincts rose up against that laugh.
Stop it!
I cried.
Pull yourself together.
And I poured out some water from a carafe.
It was useless, however.
He was off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some
great crisis is over and gone.
Presently, he came to himself once more, very weary and pale looking.
I have been making a fool of myself, he gasped.
Not at all. Drink this.
I dashed some brandy into the water and the color began to come back to his bloodless cheeks.
That's better, said he. And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly attend to my thumb, or rather
to the place where my thumb used to be. He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand.
It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it.
There were four protruding fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface
where the thumb should have been.
It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots.
Good heavens, I cried.
This is a terrible injury.
It must have bled considerably.
Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and
I think that I must have been senseless for a long time. When I came to, I found that
it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round the wrist
and braced it up with a twig. Excellent! You should have been a surgeon. It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own province."
"'This has been done,' said I, examining the wound, by a very heavy and sharp instrument."
"'A thing like a cleaver,' said he."
"'An accident, I presume?'
"'By no means.'
"'What?
A murderous attack?
Very murderous indeed.
You horrify me.
I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it,
and finally covered it over with cotton wadding
and carbolized bandages.
He lay back without wincing,
though he bit his lip from time to time.
How's that? I asked when I'd finished.
Capital!
Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man.
I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through.
Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter.
It is evidently trying to your nerves.
Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell
my tale to the police, but between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing evidence of this
wound of mine, I should be surprised if they believed my statement, for it is a very extraordinary
one. And I have not much in the way of proof with which to back it up. And, even if they believe me, the clues which I can give them are so vague
that it is a question whether justice will be done.
Ah, cried I, if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire to see solved,
I should strongly recommend you to come to my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes
before you go to the official police.
Oh, I have heard of that fellow,' answered my visitor, and I should be very glad if he
would take the matter up, though of course I must use the official police as well. Would
you give me an introduction to him?"
"'I'll do better. I'll take you round to him myself.'
"'I should be immensely obliged to you.'
"'We'll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to have a little breakfast
with him. Do you feel equal to it?"
Yes. I shall not feel easy until I have told my story.
Then my servant will call a cab and I shall be with you in an instant."
I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my wife, and in five minutes was inside
a handsome driving with my new acquaintance to Baker Street.
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Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his sitting room in his dressing gown,
reading the agony column of the Times, and smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was
composed of all the plugs and dotles left from his smokes of the day before, all carefully
dried and collected on the corner of the mantelpiece.
He received us in his quietly genial fashion, ordered fresh rashes and eggs, and joined us
in a hearty meal. When it was concluded, he settled our new acquaintance upon the sofa,
placed a pillow beneath his head and laid a glass of brandy and water within his
reach.
"'It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, Mr. Hatherley,' said
he.
"'Pray lie down there and make yourself absolutely at home.
Tell us what you can, but stop when you are tired, and keep up your strength with a little
stimulant.'
"'Thank you,' said my patient.
"'But I have felt another man since the doctor bandaged me,
"'and I think that your breakfast has completed the cure.
"'I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible,
"'so I shall start at once upon my peculiar experiences.'"
Holmes sat in his big armchair
with the weary, heavy-lidded expression
which veiled his keen and eager nature while I sat opposite to him, and we listened in silence to the strange story which
our visitor detailed to us.
"'You must know,' said he, "'that I am an orphan and a bachelor residing alone
in lodgings in London.
By profession I am a hydraulic engineer and I have had
considerable experience of my work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to
Venner and Matheson, the well-known firm of Greenwich. Two years ago, having served my time
and having also come into a fair sum of money through my poor father's death,
I determined to start in business for myself
and took professional chambers in Victoria Street.
I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in business a dreary experience.
To me, it has been exceptionally so.
During two years I have had three consultations and one small job, and that is absolutely all that my profession
has brought me.
My gross takings amount to twenty-seven pounds ten shillings.
Every day, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my little
den until at last my heart began to sink and I came to believe that I should never have
any practice at all.
Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk entered to
say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to see me upon business.
He brought up a card, too, with the name of Colonel Lysander Stark engraved upon it.
Close at his heels came the Colonel himself, a man rather over the middle
size but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that I've ever seen so thin a man. His whole face
sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over his
outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye
was bright, his step brisk, and his bearing assured.
He was plainly but neatly dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty
than thirty.
"'Mr. Hathaway,' said he, with something of a German accent, "'You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hathaway, as being a man who is not only proficient in his profession,
but is also discreet and capable of preserving a secret.'"
I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an address.
May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?
Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at this moment.
I have it from the same source that you are both an orphan and a bachelor and are residing
alone in London."
"'That is quite correct,' I answered.
"'But you will excuse me if I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional
qualifications.
I understand that it was on a professional matter that you wish to speak to me.
Undoubtedly so.
But you will find that all I say is really to the point.
I have a professional commission for you, but absolute secrecy is quite essential.
Absolute secrecy, you understand, and of course we may expect that more from
a man who is alone than from one who lives in the bosom of his family.
"'If I promise to keep a secret,' said I, "'you may absolutely depend upon my doing
so.'
He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had never seen so suspicious
and questioning an
eye.
"'Do you promise, then?' said he at last.
"'Yes, I promise.
Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after.
No reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing.
I have already given you my word."
Very good.
He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning across the room, he flung open the door.
The passage outside was empty.
"'That's all right,' said he, coming back.
I know that clerks are sometimes curious as to their masters' affairs.
Now we can talk in safety."
He drew up his chair very close to mine
and began to stare at me again with the same questioning
and thoughtful look.
A feeling of repulsion and of something akin to fear
had begun to rise within me at the strange antics
of this fleshless man.
Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from showing my impatience.
"'I beg that you will state your business, sir,' said I.
"'My time is of value.'
Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the words came to my lips.
"'How would fifty guineas for a night's work suit you?" he asked. Most admirably.
I say a night's work, but an hour's would be nearer the mark.
I simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has got out of gear.
If you show us what is wrong, we shall soon set it right ourselves.
What do you think of such a commission as that?"
Well, the work appears to be light and the pay munificent.
Precisely so.
We shall want you to come tonight by the last train.
Where to?
To Ayrford, in Berkshire.
It is a little place near the borders of Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a
train from Paddington which would bring you there at about eleven fifteen."
"'Very good. I shall come down in a carriage to meet you. But there is a drive, then.'
"'Yes. Our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good seven miles from
Ayford Station.' "'Then we can hardly get there before midnighter.
I suppose there would be no chance of a train back.
I should be compelled to stop the night."
"'Yes, we could easily give you a bet.'
"'That is very awkward.
Could I not come at some more convenient hour?'
"'We have judged it best that you should come late.
It is to recompense you for any
inconvenience that we are paying to you, a young and unknown man, a fee which would buy
an opinion from the very heads of your profession. Still, of course, if you would like to draw
out of the business, there is plenty of time to do so."
I thought of the fifty guineas and of how very useful they would be to me.
"'Not at all,' said I.
I shall be very happy to accommodate myself to your wishes.
I should like, however, to understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me to
do."
"'Quite so.
It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have extracted from you should have
aroused your curiosity.
I have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all laid before you.
I suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers entirely."
Then the matter stands thus.
You are probably aware that Fuller's earth is a valuable product and that it is only
found in one or two places in England.
I have heard so.
Some little time ago I bought a small place, a very small place, within ten miles of Reading.
I was fortunate enough to discover that there was a deposit of Fuller's earth in one of my fields.
On examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a comparatively small one,
and that it formed a link between two very much larger ones upon the right and left,
both of them, however, in the grounds of my neighbors.
These good people were absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was quite
as valuable as a gold mine.
Naturally, it was to my interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value.
But unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this.
I took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they suggested that we should
quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and that in this way we should earn the money
which would enable us to buy the neighboring fields.
This we have now been doing for some time, and in order to help us in our operations
we erected a hydraulic press.
This press, as I have already explained, has got out of order, and we wish your advice
upon the subject.
We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it once became known that we had hydraulic
engineers coming to our little house, it would soon rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts
came out, it would be goodbye to any chance of getting these fields and
carrying out our plans.
That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are
going to Aford tonight.
I hope that I make it all plain."
"'I quite follow you,' said I.
The only point which I could not quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic
press in excavating fuller's earth, which, as I understand, is dug out like gravel from
a pit.
Nah," said he carelessly, we have our own process.
We compress the earth into bricks so as to remove them without revealing what they are.
But that is a mere detail.
I have taken you fully into my confidence now, Mr. Hathaway, and I have shown you how
I trust you."
He rose as he spoke.
"'I shall expect you then at Aford at 11.15.
I shall certainly be there, and not averred to a soul."
He looked at me with a last, long, questioning gaze,
and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank grasp,
he hurried from the room.
Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood, I was very much astonished, as
you may both think, at this sudden commission which had been entrusted to me.
On the one hand, of course, I was glad, for the fee was at least tenfold what I should
have asked, had I set a price upon my own services, and it was possible that this order
might lead to other ones.
On the other hand, the face and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression
upon me, and I could not think that his explanation of the Fuller's Earth was sufficient to explain
the necessity for my coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone
of my errand.
However, I threw all fears to the winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and
started off, having obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue.
At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station.
However, I was in time for the last train to Aford, and I reached the little dim-lit
station after eleven o'clock.
I was the only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the platform save
a single sleepy porter with a lantern.
As I passed out through the wicked gate, however, I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting
in the shadow upon the other side.
Without a word, he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door of which was
standing open.
He drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the woodwork and away we went as fast as
the horse could go.
One horse, interjected Holmes.
Yes, only one.
Did you observe the color?
Yes, I saw it by the side lights when I was stepping into the carriage.
It was a chestnut. Tired looking or fresh?
Oh, fresh and glossy. Thank you.
I am sorry to have interrupted you.
Pray continue your most interesting statement.
Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour.
Colonel Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles,
but I should think from the rate that we seemed to go
and from the time that we took,
that it must have been nearer 12.
He sat at my side in silence all the time,
and I was aware more than once
when I glanced in his direction
that he was looking at me with great intensity.
The country road seemed to be not very good
in that part of the world, for we lurched
and jolted terribly.
I tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we were, but they were
made of frosted glass, and I could make out nothing save the occasional bright blur of
a passing light.
Now and then, I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the journey, but the Colonel answered only
in monosyllables, and the conversation soon flagged.
At last, however, the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of
a gravel drive, and the carriage came to a stand.
Colonel Isander Stark sprang out, and as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into
a porch which gaped in front of us.
We stepped, as it were, right out of the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch
the most fleeting glance of the front of the house.
The instant that I crossed the threshold, the door slammed heavily behind us, and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove
away.
It was pitch dark inside the house, and the Colonel fumbled about looking for matches
and muttering under his breath. Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage
and a long golden bar of light shot out in our direction. It grew broader, and a long golden bar of light shot out in our direction.
It grew broader, and a woman appeared with a lamp in her hand, which she held above her
head, pushing her face forward and peering at us.
I could see that she was pretty, and from the gloss with which the light shone upon
her dark dress, I knew that it was a rich material.
She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue, in a tone as though asking a question, and
when my companion answered in a gruff monosyllable, she gave such a start that the lamp nearly
fell from her hand.
Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered something in her ear, and then, pushing her back into
the room from whence she had come, he walked towards me again with the lamp in his hand.
Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a few minutes, said he, throwing open another door.
It was a quiet little plainly furnished room with a round table in the center on which several German books were scattered.
Colonel Stark laid down the lamp on the top
of a harmonium beside the door.
"'I shall not keep you waiting an instant,' said he, and vanished into the darkness.
I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my ignorance of German, I could
see that two of them were treatises on science, the others being volumes of poetry. Then I
walked across to the window, hoping
that I might catch some glimpse of the countryside, but an oak shutter, heavily barred, was folded
across it. It was a wonderfully silent house. There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere
in the passage, but otherwise everything was deadly still.
A vague feeling of uneasiness began to steal over me.
Who were these German people, and what were they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way
place?
And where was the place?
I was ten miles or so from Ayford, that was all I knew, but whether north, southeast,
or west, I had no idea.
For that matter, Reading and possibly other large towns were within
that radius, so the place might not be so secluded after all. Yet it was quite certain
from the absolute stillness that we were in the country. I paced up and down the room,
humming a tune under my breath to keep up my spirits, and feeling that I was thoroughly
earning my fifty-guinea fee.
Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open.
The woman was standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind her,
the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and beautiful face.
I could see at a glance that she was sick with fear,
and the sight sent a chill to my own heart.
She held up one shaking finger to warn me to be silent,
and she shot a few whispered words of broken English at me,
her eyes glancing back like those of a frightened horse
into the gloom behind her.
I would go, said she, trying hard as it seemed to me to speak calmly.
"'I would go.
I should not stay here.
There is no good for you to do.'
"'But, madam,' said I, I have not yet done what I came for.
I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.'
"'It is not worth your while to wait,' she went on.
"'You can pass through the door, no one hinders.'
And then, seeing that I smiled and shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint
and made a step forward with her hands wrung together.
"'For the love of heaven,' she whispered,, get away from here before it is too late.
Next time on the thrilling conclusion of The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb, Holmes
and Watson race to Berkshire with Scotland Yard hoping to uncover the secret
of the mysterious hydraulic press.
A dangerous conspiracy is revealed, a country house burns,
and the true purpose of Colonel Lysander Stark's
midnight engineering work comes to light.
But will justice catch up with the criminals
before they slip away?