Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor: Part Two

Episode Date: November 27, 2025

Holmes examines a wedding dress found in the Serpentine and discovers an important clue that Lestrade missed completely. Back at Baker Street, the detective arranges for a special dinner and invites Lord St. Simon to join. As unexpected guests arrive and tensions rise, Holmes reveals how he solved the mystery of the missing bride through careful observation and logical deduction while everyone else was looking in the wrong direction.  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 Tony Onuchukwu Sound Supervisor: Tom Pink  Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines  Mix & Mastering: The Soundhouse Studios  Series Consultant: Dan Smith  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Canada Life. Insurance, investments, advice. Welcome to Sherlock Holmes short stories. I'm Hugh Bonneville, and from the Noiser Podcast Network, this is The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor, part two. Last time, Holmes received a letter from Lord Roberts and Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, seeking help with the mysterious disappearance of his bride. The case had already made headlines in London society. Lord St Simon, a 41-year-old bachelor from one of England's most distinguished families,

had recently married Hattie Duran, the daughter of a wealthy American mining millionaire. Their wedding at St. George's Hanover Square was a quiet affair with only close family in attendance. During the wedding breakfast, at Mr. Aloysius Duran's Lancaster Gate home, a commotion occurred when Flora Miller, a former dancer with whom Lord St. Simon had once been involved, attempted to force her way into the house. After this disturbance was handled by the household staff, the bride complained of feeling unwell and retired to her room. When Hattie failed to return,

her father discovered she had put on an ulster coat and bonnet and slipped out of the house. She was later seen walking in Hyde Park, with none other than Flora Miller, who has since been arrested by the police. Lord St. Simon called upon Holmes and Watson describing his American bride as impetuous and free-spirited, but fundamentally noble in character.

The nobleman recalled that his wife's mood had changed shortly after the wedding ceremony when she accidentally dropped her bouquet, and a gentleman in the front pew returned it to her. As our story continues, Holmes has just made the startling claim that he has already solved the mystery. of the missing bride. I say that I have solved it.

Where then is my wife? That is a detail which I shall speedily supply. Lord St. Simon shook his head. I am afraid that it will take wiser heads than yours or mine, he remarked, and bowing in a stately, old-fashioned manner, he departed. "'It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting it on a level with his own,' said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "'I think that I shall have a whiskey and soda and a cigar, after all this cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the case before our client came into the room.

"'My dear Holmes, I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked before, which were quite as prompt, my whole examination served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial evidence is occasionally very convincing as when you find a trout in the milk, to quote Thorough's example. But I have heard all that you have heard, without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which serves me so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back, and something on very much the same lines at Munich the year after the Franco-Prussian War.

It is one of these cases, but hello, here is Lestrade. Good afternoon, Lestrade. You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box. The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a black canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting, he seated himself and lit the cigar, which had been offered to. him. What's up then? asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. You look dissatisfied. And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case. I can make neither head nor tail of the

business. Really? You'll surprise me. Whoever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day. And very wet it seems to have made you. said Holmes, laying his hand upon the arm of the pea-jacket. Yes, I have been dragging the serpentine. In heaven's name, what for? In search of the body of Lady St. Simon. Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain? he asked.

Why? What do you mean? Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in the one, as in the other. Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. I suppose you know all about it, he snarled. Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up. Oh, indeed. Then you think that the serpentine plays no part in the matter. I think it very unlikely.

Then, perhaps, you will kindly explain how it is that we found this in it. He opened his bag, as he spoke, and, tumbled onto the floor a wedding dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes, and a bride's wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked in water. There, said he, putting a new wedding ring upon the top of the pile, there is a little nut for you to crack, Master Holmes. Oh, indeed, said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air.

You dragged them from the serpentine? No, they were found floating near the margin by a parkkeeper. They have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me that if the clothes were there, the body would not be far off. By the same brilliant reasoning, every man's body is to be found in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope to arrive at through this? But at some evidence implicating Flora Miller in the disappearance. "'I am afraid that you will find it difficult.'

"'Are you indeed now?' cried Lestrade, with some bitterness. "'I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions and your inferences. "'You have made two blunders in as many minutes. "'This dress does implicate Miss Flora Miller. "'And how?' "'In the dress is a pocket. "'In the pocket is a card-case. "'In the card-case is a note.

And here is the very note. He slapped it down upon the table in front of him. Listen to this. You will see me when all is ready. Come at once, F.H.M. Now, my theory all along has been that Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora Miller, and that she, with Confederates, no doubt, was respect. responsible for her disappearance.

Here, signed with her initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly slipped into her hand at the door and which lured her within their reach. Very good, Lestrade, said Holmes, laughing. You really are very fine indeed, let me see it. He took up the paper in a listless way, but his attention instantly became riveted, and he gave a little cry of satisfaction.

"'This is indeed important,' said he. "'Ah, you find it so? "'Extremely so. "'I congratulate you warmly.' "'The Stroud rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. "'Why?' he shrieked. "'You're looking at the wrong side.' "'On the contrary, this is the right side.'

"'The right side? "'You're mad. "'Here is the note written in pencil over here.' And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel bill, which interests me deeply. There's nothing in it. I looked at it before, said Lestrade. October the 4th, rooms eight shillings, breakfast two shillings, sixpence. Cocktail, one shilling, lunch, two shillings, sixpence, glass sherry, eightpence. I see nothing in that.

Very likely not. It is most important all the same. As to the note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I congratulate you again. I've wasted time enough, said Lestrade, rising. I believe in hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. Good day, Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom of the matter first. He gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and made for the door. Just one hint to you, Lestrade. trawled Holmes before his rival vanished.

I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been any such person. The Strard looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and hurried away. He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes, rose to put on his overcoat. There is something in what the fellow says about outdoor work, he remarked.

So I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your papers for a little. It's week three of Canadian tires early Black Friday sale. These prices won't go lower this year. Maybe too long. Freezing. Save up to 50% November 20th to 27. Conditions apply, details online. It was after five o'clock when Sherlock Holmes left me,

but I had no time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a confectioner's man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him, and presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold woodcock, pheasant, a patte de foie gras pie, with a group of ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, my two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the

Arabian nights, with no explanation save that the things had been paid for and were ordered to this address. Just before nine o'clock, Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his conclusions. They have laid the supper then, he said, rubbing his hands. You seem to expect company they have laid for five. Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in, said he. I am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived.

Ah, I fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs. It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features. My messenger reached you then, asked Holmes. Yes, and I confess that the content startled me beyond measure. Have you good authority for what you say? The best possible.

Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his forehead. What will the Duke say? murmured, when he hears that one of the family has been subjected to such humiliation. It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any humiliation. You look on these things from another standpoint. I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she had. had no one to advise her at such a crisis.

It was a slight, sir, a public slight, said Lord St. Simon, tapping his fingers upon the table. You must make allowance for this poor girl placed in so unprecedented a position. I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have been shamefully used. I think that I heard a ring, said Holmes. Yes, there are steps on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here who may be more successful. He opened the door and ushered in a lady and gentleman.

Lord St. Simon, said he, allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Haymoulton. The lady, I think, you have already met. At the sight of these newcomers Our client had sprung from his seat And stood very erect With his eyes cast down And his hand thrust into the breast of his frockcoat

A picture of offended dignity The lady had taken a quick step forward And had held out her hand to him But he still refused to raise his eyes It was as well for his resolution perhaps For her pleading face Was one which it was hard to resist You're angry, Robert, said she.

Well, I guess you have every cause to me. Play, make no apology to me, said Lord St. Simon bitterly. Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should have spoken to you before I went, but I was kind of rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again, I just didn't know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn't fall down and do a face. paint right there before the altar. Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the room while you explain this matter?

If I may give an opinion, remarked the strange gentleman. We've had just a little too much secrecy over this business already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it. He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean to be. shaven with a sharp face and alert manner. Then I'll tell our story right away, said the lady. Frank here and I met in 84, in McQuire's camp near the Rockies where Pa was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I, but then one day father struck a rich pocket

and made a pile while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to nothing. The richer Pa grew, the poorer, was Frank. So at last, Pa wouldn't hear of our engagement lasting any longer, and he took me away to Frisco. Frank wouldn't throw up his hand, though. So he followed me there, and he saw me without Pa knowing anything about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and make his pile too,

and never come back to claim me until he had as much as pa. So then I promised to wait for him to the end of time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived. Why shouldn't we be married right away, then? said he, and then I will feel sure of you, and I won't claim to be your husband until I come back. Well, we talked it over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely

with a clergyman already in waiting that we just did it right there. And then Frank went off to seek his fortune and I went back to Pa. The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana and then he went prospecting in Arizona and then I heard of him from New Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story

about how a miners' camp had been attacked by Apache Indians. And there was my Frank's name among the camp, killed. I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in Frisco. Not a word of news came for a year or more, so that I never doubted that Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to Frisco, and we came to London, and a marriage was arranged, and Pa was very pleased. But I was very pleased. But I was I felt all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place in my heart

that had been given to my poor Frank. Still, if I had married Lord's ensignment, of course I'd have done my duty by him. We can command our love, but we can our actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to make him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first. But when I looked again, there he was still with a kind of question in his eyes,

as if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I didn't drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my ear. I didn't know what to do. Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew that he was writing me a note. as I passed his pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him

and he slipped the note into my hand when he returned me the flowers it was only a line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to him and I determined to do just whatever he might direct When I got back, I told my maid, who had known him in California, and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before his mother and all those great people. I just made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards.

I hadn't been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank. out of the window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me, and then began walking into the park. I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. Some woman came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to me seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little secret of his own before marriage also, but I managed to get away from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square.

And that was my true wedding, after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to Frisco, found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to England, followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the very morning of my second wedding. I saw it in a paper, explained the American. It gave the name and the church, but not where the lady lived. Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all for openness. But I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should like to vanish away

and never see any of them again, just sending a line to par, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting round that breakfast table and waiting for me to come back. So Frank took my wedding clothes and things and made a bundle of them so that I should not be traced and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we should have gone on to Paris tomorrow, only that this good gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening,

though how he found us is more than I can think. And he showed us very clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right and that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord St. Simon alone. And so we came right away round to his rooms at once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all,

and I am very sorry if I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very meanly of me. Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long narrative. Excuse me, said he, but it is not my custom to discuss my most intimate personal affairs in this public manner.

Then you won't forgive me? You won't shake hands before I go? Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure. He put out his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him. I had hoped, suggested Holmes, that you would have joined us in a friendly supper. I think that there you are. a little too much, responded his lordship.

I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over them. I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a very good night. He included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room. "'Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your company,' said Sherlock Holmes. "'It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, "'for I am one of those who believe that the folly of a monarch "'and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years

"'will not prevent our children from being someday citizens of the same worldwide country "'under a flag which shall be a quartering of the union. Union Jack, with the stars and stripes. This November on the Noiser podcast network. On short history of, we'll step beyond the Leonine Wall and into Vatican City, the smallest sovereign state in the world. We'll follow the extraordinary life of Irish writer Oscar Wilde, and crack befuddling cases with the Pinkerton detective.

agency. On real survival stories, we'll find ourselves marooned on a wild, remote fjord in British Columbia, witness a terrifying lightning strike atop a Wyoming mountain, and watch on as a fearsome typhoon devastates a Pacific lagoon. In Jane Austen's stories, pride and prejudice continues, with a free-spirited Lizzie attending a dinner party at the grand estate of Lady Catherine, and not exactly making a favourable impression. And in Sherlock Holmes, she's short stories, a professor returns from Prague with a mysterious carved box and a strangely changed personality in The Adventure of the Creeping Man. Get all these shows and more early and ad-free on Noisa Plus.

The case has been an interesting one, remarked Holmes when our visitors had left us, because it serves to show very clearly how simple the explanation. may be of an affair which at first sight seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard. You were not yourself at fault at all, then. From the first two facts were very obvious to me,

the one that the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of returning home. Obviously something had occurred during the morning then to cause her to change her mind. What could that something be? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was out for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she seen someone then? If she had, it must be someone from America, because she had spent so short a time in this country

that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep, an influence over her, that the mere sight of him would induce her to change her plans so completely. You see, we have already arrived by a process of exclusion at the idea that she might have seen an American. Then, who could this American be? And why should he possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover, it might be a husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard Lord St. Simon's narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew,

of the change in the bride's manner, of so transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet, of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very significant allusion to claim-jumping, which in minor's parlance means taking possession of that, which another person has a prior claim to, the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man,

and the man was either a lover or was a previous husband, the chances being in favour of the latter. And how in the world did you find them? It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in his hands, the value of which he did not himself know. The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still was it to know that within a week

he had settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels. How did you deduce the select? By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are not many in London which charge at that rate. In the second one which I visited in Northumber, and Avenue, I learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an American

gentleman, had left only the day before. And on looking over the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square. So thither I travelled, and being fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in every way that they should make their position a little clearer, both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in particular. I invited them to meet him here, and as you see, I made him keep the appointment. But with no very good result, I remarked, his conduct was certainly not very gracious. Ah, Watson, said Holmes, smiling. Perhaps you would not be very gracious either

if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully, and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak, autumnal evenings. Next time, on Sherlock Holmes short stories, we enter a most peculiar mystery in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons. When Inspector Lestrade brings news of a vandal destroying plastic, busts of Napoleon Bonaparte across London, Holmes initially dismisses the case as mere mischief. But when the strange obsession turns deadly and a man is found murdered, the detective's interest

is thoroughly piqued. What could possibly connect these shattered images of the French emperor? And why would someone risk everything to destroy seemingly worthless plaster casts? As Holmes and Watson track the path of broken Napoleons through London's streets, they uncover a criminal plot of international proportions and a treasure hidden in plain sight. That's next time. Can't wait a week until the next episode? Well, listen to it right away by subscribing to Noyser Plus.

Head to www.org.org.com slash subscriptions for more information, or click the link in the episode description. You and the Per Noelle? The pro of the embellage, Caducey! But Riesce's is the demand, Cote of debalage, is who the maillard? The mule Reese, o' beard-arachid,

make your art of the deballage to the debauchy, and chocolate-forned by packet, you have to what to end-draining? To find, and again, and again, this pleasure, sucre-sallie, and again,

and again. The Pern-Nellel has his biscuits, you, T'Ease. There's Ries. Thank you.