Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb: Part Two

Episode Date: February 6, 2025

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? Narrated by Hugh Bonneville  Produced by Katrina Hughes and Addison Nugent  Sound Design and Audio Editing by Miri Latham, Anisha Deva and George Tapp Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines  Mix & Mastering: 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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Life's the trip. Make the most of it at Best Western. Book, direct and save at bestwestern.com. Welcome to Sherlock Holmes short stories. I'm Hugh Bonneville and this is the adventure of the engineer's thumb part two. Last time a desperate young engineer named Victor Hatherley arrived at Dr Watson's surgery with his thumb violently severed. He told a strange tale. A mysterious German Colonel named Lysander Stark had offered him 50 guineas to examine

a hydraulic press under cover of darkness. The Colonel's explanation seemed innocent enough. He claimed to have discovered deposits of Fuller's earth on his property, and was using the press to compress this valuable clay for sale. After a midnight journey by train and carriage, Hatherley found himself at an isolated country house, where he encountered a frightened young woman who pleaded with him to leave at once. frightened young woman who pleaded with him to leave at once. Now Hatherley is explaining to Holmes and Watson that he did not heed her warning, a mistake which cost him dearly. But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to engage in an affair when

there is some obstacle in the way. I thought of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of the unpleasant night which seemed to be before me. Was it all to go for nothing? Why should I slink away without having carried out my commission, and without the payment which was my due? This woman might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac. With a stout bearing, therefore, though her manner had shaken me more than I cared to

confess, I still shook my head and declared my intention of remaining where I was. She was about to renew her entreaties when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several footsteps was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw up her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly and as noiselessly as she had come. The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short, thick man with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin, who was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson. "'This is my secretary and manager,' said the Colonel. "'By the way, I was under the impression that I left this door shut just now.

I fear that you have felt the draught.' "'On the contrary,' said I. that I left this door shut just now. I fear that you have felt the draught." On the contrary, said I. I opened the door myself, because I felt the room to be a little close. He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. "'Perhaps we had better proceed to business, then,' said he. "'Mr. Ferguson and I will take you up to see the machine.' I'd better put my hat on, I suppose. Oh no, it is in the house. What, you dig full as earth in the house?

No, no, this is only where we compress it. But never mind that, all we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is wrong with it. We went upstairs together, the Colonel first, with the lamp, the fat manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, with corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases and little low doors, the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the generations who had crossed them.

There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture above the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling off the walls and the damp was breaking through in green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put on as unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not forgotten the warnings of the lady, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen eye upon my two companions.

Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent man, but I could see from the little that he said that he was at least a fellow countryman. Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which he unlocked. Within was a small square room in which the three of us could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside and the Colonel ushered me in. The Arnau, said he, actually within the hydraulic press, and it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were to turn it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the descending piston, and it comes

down with the force of many tons upon this metal floor. There are small lateral columns of water outside which receive the force, and which transmit and multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you. The machine goes readily enough, but there is some stiffness in the working of it, and it has lost a little of its force. Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set it right." I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very thoroughly.

It was indeed a gigantic one and capable of exercising enormous pressure. When I passed outside, however, and pressed down the levers which controlled it, I knew at once by the wishing sound that there was a slight leakage which allowed a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders. An examination showed that one of the India rubber bands which was round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite to fill the socket along which it worked. This was clearly the cause of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my companions, who followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical questions as to how

they should proceed to set it right. When I made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of the machine and took a good look at it, to satisfy my own curiosity. It was obvious at a glance that the story of the Fuller's earth was the merest fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose that so powerful an engine could be designed for so inadequate a purpose. The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of a large iron trough, and when I came to examine it I could see a crust of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped and was scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a muttered

exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the Colonel looking down at me. What are you doing there? he asked. I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that which he had told me. "'I was admiring your Fuller's Earth,' said I. I think that I should be better able to advise you as to your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for which it was used.' The instant that I uttered the words, I regretted the rashness of my speech. His face set hard and a baleful light sprang up in his gray eyes.

Very well, said he, you shall know all about the machine. He took a step backward slammed a little door and turned the key in the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it was quite secure and did not give in the least to my kicks and shoves. Hello! I yelled. Hello! Colonel! Let me out! And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the trough.

By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me, slowly, jerkily. But as none knew better than myself, with a force which must within a minute grind me to a shapeless pulp. I threw myself screaming against the door and dragged with my nails at the lock. I implored the Colonel to let me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and with my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough surface. Then it flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend very much upon the position in which I met it. If I lay on my face, the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to think of that dreadful snap. Easier the other way, perhaps. would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to think of that dreadful snap.

Easier the other way, perhaps. And yet, had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black shadow wavering down upon me. Already I was unable to stand erect when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope back to my heart. I have said that, though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards, which broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward. For an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door which led away from death. The next instant I threw myself through and lay half fainting upon the other side.

The panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp and a few moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal told me how narrow had been my escape. I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, while she held a candle in her right. It was the same good friend whose warning I had so foolishly rejected. Come, come! she cried breathlessly. They will be here in a moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste the so precious time, but come!

This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to my feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding stair. The latter led to another broad passage, and just as we reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices, one answering the other from the floor on which we were and from the one beneath. My guide stopped and looked about her like one who is at her wits end. Then she threw open a door which led into a bedroom

through the window of which the moon was shining brightly. It is your only chance, said she. It is high, but it may be that you can jump it." As she spoke, a light sprang into view at the further end of the passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a butcher's cleaver in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, flung open the window and looked out. How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight, and it could not

be more than thirty feet down. I clambered out upon the sill, but I hesitated to jump until I had heard what passed between my savior and the ruffian who pursued me. If she were ill-used, then at any risks I was determined to get back to her assistance. The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at the door, pushing his way past her. But she threw her arms round him and tried to hold him back. Fritz, Fritz, she cried in English, remember your promise after the last time.

You said it should not be again. He will be silent. Oh, he will be silent. You are mad, Elise, he shouted, struggling to break away from her. You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me pass, I say. He dashed her to one side, and rushing to the window, cut at me with his

heavy weapon. I had let myself go and was hanging by the hands to the sill when his blow fell. I was conscious of a dull pain. My grip loosened, and I fell into the garden below. I was shaken, but not hurt, by the fall, so I picked myself up and rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me.

I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and then for the first time saw that my thumb had been cut off, and that the blood was pouring from my wound. I endeavored to tie my handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden buzzing in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the rose bushes. How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been a very long time, for the moon had sunk and a bright morning was breaking when I came to myself.

My clothes were all sodden with dew, and my coat sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded thumb. The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my night's adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But to my astonishment, when I came to look around me, neither house nor garden were to be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the hedge close by the high road,

and just a little lower down was a long building which proved upon my approaching it to be the very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream. Half-dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I arrived.

I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he observed a carriage the night before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was there a police station anywhere near? There was one about three miles off. It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the police.

It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first to have my wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to bring me along here. I put the case into your hands, and shall do exactly what you advise." We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed his cuttings. "'Here is an advertisement which will interest you,' said he. It appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this.

"'Lost on the ninth instant, Mr. Jeremiah Haling, aged twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten o'clock at night and has not been heard of since. Was dressed in—' Etc., etc. That represents the last time that the Colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy. "'Good heavens!' cried my patient. Then that explains what the girl said.

Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the Colonel was a cool and desperate man who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand in the way of his little game. Like those out-and-out pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for Aford. Some three hours or so afterwards, we were all in the train together, bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer,

Inspector Bradstreet of Scotland Yard, the plain clothes man, and myself. Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the seat, and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Ayford for its centre. There you are, said he. That circle is drawn at a radius of ten miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere near that line. You said ten miles, I think, sir."

"'It was an hour's good drive, and you think that they brought you back all that way when you were unconscious.' "'They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been lifted and conveyed somewhere.' "'What I cannot understand,' said I, "'is why they should have spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman's entreaties.' Well, I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face in my life." "'Oh, we shall soon clear up all that," said Bradstreet.

Well, I have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the folk that we are in search of are to be found. I think I could lay my finger on it," said Holmes quietly. Really now," cried the inspector, you have formed your opinion. Well," cried the inspector, "'you have formed your opinion. Come now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is south, for the country is more deserted there.' And I say east," said my patient. "'I am for west,' remarked the plain-closed man.

There are several quiet little villages up there.' "'And I am for north,' said I, because there are no hills there, and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up any. Come," cried the inspector, laughing, "'it's a very pretty diversity of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do you give your casting vote to?' "'You are all wrong.' "'But we can't all be.'

"'Oh, yes, you can. This is my point. He placed his finger in the center of the circle. This is where we shall find them. But the twelve-mile drive, gasped Hadley. Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the horse was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that, if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?"

"'Indeed it is a likely ruse enough,' observed Brad Street thoughtfully. Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature of this gang." "'None at all,' said Holmes. They are coiners on a large scale, and have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the place of silver.'" "'We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work,' said the inspector. "'They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading, but could get no farther, for they had covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old hands.

But now, thanks to this lucky chance, I think that we have got them right enough. But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not destined to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into Aford Station, we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighborhood and hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape. A house on fire? asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on its way. Yes, sir, said the stationmaster. When did it break out? I hear that it was during the night, sir,

but it has got worse and the whole place is in a blaze. Whose house is it? Dr. Beecher's. Tell me, broke in the engineer, is Dr. Beecher a German, very thin with a long sharp nose? The stationmaster laughed heartily. No, sir, Dr. Beecher a German, very thin, with a long, sharp nose. The stationmaster laughed heartily. No, sir, Dr. Beecher is an Englishman, and there isn't a man in the parish

who has a better-lined waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, a patient, as I understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm. The stationmaster had not finished his speech before we were all hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low hill, and there was a great, widespread, whitewashed building

in front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window, while in the garden in front, three fire engines were vainly striving to keep the flames under. That's it! cried Hatherly in intense excitement. There's the gravel drive, and there are the rose bushes where I lay. That second window is the one that I jumped from. Well, at least, said Holmes. You have had your revenge upon them. There can be no question that it was your oil lamp, which, when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you to observe it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for your friends of last night, though I very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off by now.

now. And Holmes' fears came to be realized, for from that day to this no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the sinister German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading. But there all traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes' ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to their whereabouts. The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which they had found within, and still more so by

discovering a newly severed human thumb upon a windowsill of the second floor. About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and they subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin, that, save some twisted cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained of the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so dearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered, stored in an outhouse, but no coins were to be found,

which may have explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been already referred to. How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained forever a mystery, were it not for the soft mould which told us a very plain tale. He had evidently been carried down by two persons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that the

silent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous than his companion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out of the way of danger. Well, said our engineer ruefully, as we took our seats to return once more to London, it has been a pretty business for me. I have lost my thumb, and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee. And what have I gained? Experience, said Holmes, laughing. Indirectly, it may be of value, you know.

You have only to put it into words to gain the reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your existence. Next time on Sherlock Holmes Short Stories, we follow Sherlock Holmes as he takes on his most vital case yet, the adventure of the Bruce Partington plans. When a young clerk's body is found on the underground tracks with top secret submarine plans in his pocket, the government turns to Holmes in desperation. But something about this apparent act of treason doesn't add up. Following a trail of increasingly confounding clues, Holmes must unravel a conspiracy that threatens

the very security of England. Will Holmes recover the missing plans before they fall into enemy hands? Or has the traitor already succeeded in delivering England's greatest military secret to foreign powers? Find out next time. Can't wait a week until the next episode? Well, listen to it right away by subscribing to Noiza Plus. Head to www.noiza.com slash subscriptions for more information, or click the link in the episode description.