Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of the Priory School: Part One

Episode Date: July 1, 2026

Part one of three. A frantic headmaster arrives in Baker Street, begging for Holmes’ help in tracking down a missing pupil… the ten-year-old son of one of the richest men in England.  A Noiser podcast production.   Narrated by Hugh Bonneville  Written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Produced by Duncan Barrett Script Supervisor: Chris McDonald Sound Design and Audio Editing: Tony Onuchukwu and George Tapp Sound Supervisor: Tom Pink Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines Mix & Mastering: Ralph Tittley Series Consultant: Dan Smith Executive Producer: Katrina Hughes   For ad-free listening and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Just click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or go to noiser.com/subscriptions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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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, Holmes and Watson are summoned to the headmaster's office, although not before the headmaster in question pays a visit to their own rooms in Baker Street. Dr Thornycroft Huxdable brings terrible news news from the Priory School, a venerable educational establishment in the north of England. A young boy has vanished, and not just any boy, but the son of a duke.

The school's reputation hangs in the balance, but the local police are baffled. With no ransom note, no witnesses, and no sign of the missing child, their investigation has ground to a halt. As Holmes begins his own inquiry, each clue draws him closer to a web of lies. a web of lies reaching into the highest ranks of society. From the Noisor podcast network, this is The Adventure of the Priory School, part one. We have had some dramatic entrances and exits upon our small stage at Baker Street, but I cannot recollect anything more sudden and startling than the first appearance

of Thornycroft-Huxdable, M.A., Ph.D., etc. His card, which seemed too small to carry the weight of his academic distinctions, preceded him by a few seconds, and then he entered himself, so large, so pompous and so dignified, that he was the very embodiment of self-possession and solidity. And yet his first action, when the door had closed behind him, was to stagger against the table, whence he slipped down upon the floor, and there was that majestic figure, prostrate and insensible upon our bearskin hearthrug. We had sprung to our feet and for a few moments we stared in silent amazement at this ponderous piece of wreckage which told of some sudden and fatal storm far out on the ocean of life. Then Holmes hurried with a cushion for his head and I with

brandy for his lips. The heavy white face was seamed with lines of trouble. The hanging pouches under the closed eyes were leaden in colour. The loose mouth drooped dolorously at the corners. The rolling chins were unshaven. Collar and shirt bore the grime of a long journey, and the hair bristled unkempt from the well-shaped head. It was a sorely stricken man who lay before us. What is it, Watson? asked Holmes. Absolute exhaustion, possibly mere hunger and fatigue, said I, with my finger on the thready pulse where the stream of life. trickled thin and small. Return ticket from Macleton in the north of England,

said Holmes, drawing it from the watch pocket. It is not 12 o'clock yet. He has certainly been an early starter. The puckered eyelids had begun to quiver, and now a pair of vacant grey eyes looked up at us. An instant later, the man had scrambled onto his feet, his face crimson with shame. But forgive this weakness, Mr. Holmes.

I have been a little overwrought. Thank you. If I might have a glass of milk and a biscuit, I have no doubt that I should be better. I came personally, Mr. Holmes, in order to ensure that you would return with me. I feared that no telegram would convince you of the absolute urgency of the case.

When you are quite restored... I am quite well again. I cannot imagine how I came to be so weak. I wish you, Mr. Holmes, to come to Macalton with me by the next train. My friend shook his head. My colleague Dr. Watson

could tell you that we are very busy at present. I am retained in this case of the Ferrer's documents and the Abigavenny murder is coming up for trial. Only a very important issue could call me from London at present. Important! Our visitor threw up his hands. Have you heard nothing of the abduction of the only son of the Duke of Holderness? What?

Late Cabinet Minister. Exactly. We had tried to keep it out of the papers, but there was some rumour in the globe last night. I thought it might have reached your ears. Holmes shot out his long, thin arm and picked out volume H in his encyclopedia of reference. Holdeness, 6th Duke, KG, PC, half the alphabet, Baron Beverley, Earl of Carston, dear me, what a list. Lord Lieutenant of Hallamshire since 1900. Married Edith, daughter of Sir Charles Appledore 1888. Air and only child, Lord Sultire, owns about 250,000 acres, minerals in Lancashire and Wales. Address, Carlton House Terrace, Holderness Hall, Hallamshire. Carston Castle, Bangor, Wales, Lord of the Admiralty, 1872.

Chief Secretary of State for... Well, well, this man is certainly one of the greatest subjects of the Crown. the greatest and perhaps the wealthiest. I am aware, Mr Holmes, that you take a very high line in professional matters and that you are prepared to work for the work's sake. I may tell you, however, that his grace has already intimated that a cheque for £5,000 will be handed over to the person who can tell him where his son is, and another thousand to him who can name the man or men who have taken him.

"'It is a princely offer,' said Holmes. "'Watson, I think that we shall accompany Dr. Huxstable back to the north of England. "'And now, Dr. Huxstable, when you have consumed that milk, "'you will kindly tell me what has happened, when it happened, how it happened, "'and finally, what Dr. Thornycroft Huxstable of the Priory School near Mackelton "'has to do with the matter. "'And why he comes three days after an event, the state of your chin gives me the date,

to ask for my humble services. Our visitor had consumed his milk and biscuits. The light had come back to his eyes and the colour to his cheeks, as he set himself with great vigour and lucidity to explain the situation. I must inform you, gentlemen, that the Priory is a preparatory school of which I am the founder and principal.

Hoxtable's sidelights on Horace may possibly recall my name to your own. memories. The priory is, without exception, the best and most select preparatory school in England. Lord Levesdook, the Earl of Blackwater, Sir Cathcart's Soames, they've all entrusted their sons to me. But I felt that my school had reached its zenith when, three weeks ago, the Duke of Holderness sent Mr James Wilder, his secretary, with the intimation that young Lord Sultire, ten years old, his only son and heir, was about to be committed to my charge. Little did I think that this would be the prelude to the most crushing misfortune of my life.

On May the first the boy arrived, that being the beginning of the summer term. He was a charming youth, and he soon fell into our ways. I may tell you, I trust that I'm not indiscreet, but half-confidence are absurd in such a case, that he was not entirely happy at home. It is an open secret that the Duke's married life had not been, a peaceful one, and the matter had ended in a separation by mutual consent, the Duchess taking up her residence in the south of France. This had occurred very shortly before, and the boy's sympathies are known to have been strongly with his mother. He moped after her departure from Holderness Hall,

and it was for this reason that the Duke desired to send him to my establishment. In a fortnight, the boy was quite at home with us and was apparently absolutely happy. He was last seen on the night of May the 13th, that is the night of last Monday. His room was on the second floor and was approached through another larger room in which two boys were sleeping.

These boys saw and heard nothing, so that it is certain that young Sultire did not pass out that way. His window was open and there was a stout ivy plug leading to the ground. We could trace no footmarks below, but it is sure that this is the only possible exit. His absence was discovered at seven o'clock on Tuesday morning. His bed had been slept in. He had dressed himself fully before going off in his usual school suit of black

eaten jacket and dark grey trousers. There were no signs that anyone had entered the room, and it is quite certain that anything in the nature of cries or a struggle would have been heard since Cawnta, the elder boy in the inner room, is a very light sleeper. When Lord Soltair's disappearance was discovered, I at once called a role of the whole establishment, boys, masters and servants. It was then that we ascertained that Lord Soltire had not been alone in his flight. Heidegger, the German master, was missing. His room was on the second floor at the farther end of the building,

facing the same way as Lord Soltiers. His bed had also been slept in, but he had apparently gone away partly dressed since his shirt and socks were lying on the floor. He had undoubtedly let himself down by the ivy, for we could see the marks of his feet where he had landed on the lawn. His bicycle was kept in a small shed beside this lawn, and it also was gone. He had been with me for two years and came with the best references, but he was a silent, morose man, very popular either with masters or boys. No trace could be found of the fugitives, and now on Thursday morning we are as ignorant as we were on Tuesday.

Inquiry was, of course, made at once at Holderness Hall. It is only a few miles away, and we imagine that in some sudden attack of homesickness he had gone back to his father. But nothing had been heard of him. The Duke is greatly agitated. And as to me, you have seen yourselves, a state of nervous prostration to which the suspense and the responsibility have reduced me.

Mr. Holmes, if ever you put forward your full powers, I implore you to do so now. For never in your life could you have a case which is more worthy of them. Sherlock Holmes had listened with the utmost intentness to the statement of the unhappy schoolmaster. His drawn brows and the deep furrow between them showed that he needed no exhortation to concentrate all his attention upon a problem which, apart from the tremendous interests involved, must appeal so directly to his love of the complex and the unusual. He now drew out his notebook and jotted down one or two memoranda. You have been very remiss in not coming to me sooner, said he severely. You start me on my investigation with a very serious handicap. It is inconceivable, for example, that this ivy and this lawn

would have yielded nothing to an expert observer. I am not to blame Mr Holmes. His grace was extremely desirous to avoid all public scandal. He was afraid of his family on happiness being dragged before the world. He has a deep horror of anything of the kind. But there has been some official investigation? Yes, sir, and it has proved most disappointing. An apparent clue was at once obtained since a boy and a young man were reported to have been seen leaving a

station by an early train. Only last night we had news that the couple had been hunted down in Liverpool, and they proved to have no connection whatever with the matter in hand. Then it was that in my despair and disappointment after a sleepless night, I came straight to you by the early train. I suppose the local investigation was relaxed while this false clue was being followed up. It was entirely dropped. So that three days have been wasted. The affair has been most deplorably handled. I feel it and admit it. And yet the problem should be capable of ultimate solution. I shall be very happy to look into it. Have you been able to trace any connection between the missing boy and this German master? None at all. Was he in the master's class? No. He never exchanged a word with him so far as I

No. That is certainly very singular. Had the boy a bicycle? No. Was any other bicycle missing? No. Is that certain? Quite. Well, now, you do not mean to seriously suggest that this German rode off upon a bicycle in the dead of the night bearing the boy in his arms? No, certainly not. Then what is the theory in your mind? The bicycle may have been a blind. It may have been hidden somewhere and the pair gone off on foot. Quite so. But it seems rather an absurd blind, does it not? Were there other bicycles in this shed? Several.

Would he not have hidden a couple if he desired to give the idea that they had gone off upon them? I suppose he would. Of course he would. The blind theory won't do. But the incident is an admirable starting point for an investigation. After all, a bicycle is not an easy thing to conceal or to destroy. One other question. Did anyone call to see the boy on the day before he disappeared?

No. Did he get any letters? Yes, one letter. From whom? From his father. Do you open the boy's letters? No. How do you know it was from the father?

The coat of arms was on the envelope, and it was addressed in the Duke's peculiar stiff hand. besides the Duke remembers having written. When had he a letter before that? Not for several days. Had he ever won from France? No, never. You see the point of my questions, of course. Either the boy was carried off by force,

or he went of his own free will. In the latter case, you would expect that some prompting from outside would be needed to make so young a lad do such a thing. If he has had no visitors, that prompting must have been. come in letters. Hence, I try to find out who were his correspondence. I fear I cannot help you much. His only correspondence, so far as I know, was his own father, who wrote to him on the very

day of his disappearance. Were the relations between father and son very friendly? His grace is never very friendly with anyone. He is completely immersed in large public questions, and is rather inaccessible to all ordinary emotions. But he was always kind to the boy, in his own way. But the sympathies of the latter were with the mother? Yes. Did he say so? No. The Duke then? Good Evans, no. Then how could you know? I have had some confidential talks with Mr. James Wilder, his grace's secretary. It was he who gave me the information about Lord Salty's feelings. see. By the way, that last letter of the Dukes, was it found in the boy's room after he was gone? No, he had taken it with him. I think, Mr. Holmes, it is time that we were leaving for Houston.

I will order a four-wheeler. In a quarter of an hour, we shall be at your service. If you are telegraphing home, Mr. Huxstable, it would be well to allow the people in your neighbourhood to imagine that the inquiry is still going on in Liverpool, or wherever else that red herring led your pack. In the meantime, I will do a little quiet work at your own doors, and perhaps the scent is not so cold, but the two old hounds like Watson and myself may get a sniff of it. That evening found us in the cold, bracing atmosphere of the peak country, in which Dr. Huxstable's famous school is situated. It was already dark when we reached it. The card was lying on the hall table, and the butler whispered something to his master, who turned to us,

with agitation in every heavy feature. The Duke is here, said he. The Duke and Mr. Wilder are in the study. Come, gentlemen, and I will introduce you. I was, of course, familiar with the pictures of the famous statesman, but the man himself was very different from his representation. He was a tall and stately person, scrupulously dressed, with a drawn thin face

and a nose which was grotesquely curved and long. His complexion was of a dead pallor, which was more startling by contrast with a long, dwindling beard of vivid red, which flowed down over his white waistcoat, with his watch-chain gleaming through its fringe. Such was the stately presence who looked stonily at us from the centre of Dr. Huxdibald's hearthrug. Beside him stood a very young man whom I understood to be wilder, the private secretary. He was small, nervous, alert, with intelligent, like. blue eyes and mobile features. It was he who at once, in an incisive and positive tone, opened the conversation. I called this morning, Dr. Huxable, too late to prevent you from starting for London. I learned that your object was to invite Mr. Sherlock Holmes to undertake

the conduct of this case. His grace is surprised, Dr. Huxstable, that you should have taken such a step without consulting him. When I learned that the police had failed, his grace is by no means convinced that the police have failed. But surely, Mr. Wilder, you are well aware, Dr. Huxstable, that his grace is particularly anxious to avoid all public scandal. He prefers to take as few people as possible

into his confidence. The matter can be easily remedied, said the brow-beaten doctor. Mr. Sherlock Holmes can return to London by the morning train. Hardly that, Doctor, hardly that, said Holmes in his blandest voice. This northern air

is invigorating and pleasant, so I propose to spend a few days upon your moors, and to occupy my mind as best I may. Whether I have the shelter of your roof or of the village inn is, of course, for you to decide. I could see that the unfortunate doctor was in the last stage of indecision, from which he was rescued by the deep, sonorous voice of the red-bearded duke, which boomed out like a dinner gone. I agree with Mr. Wilder, Dr. Huxdwell, that you would have done wisely to consult me. But since Mr. Holmes has already been taken into your confidence, it would indeed be absurd that we should not avail ourselves of his services. Far from going to the inn, Mr. Holmes, I should be pleased if you would come and stay with me at Holderness Hall. I thank your grace, for the purposes

of my investigation, I think that it would be wiser for me to remain at the scene of the mystery. Just as you like, Mr. Holmes. Any information which Mr. Wilder or I can give you is, of course, at your disposal. It will probably be necessary for me to see you at the hall, said Holmes. I would only ask you now, sir, whether you have formed any explanation in your own mind as to the mysterious disappearance of your son? No, sir, I have not. "'Excuse me if I allude to that which is painful to you, but I have no alternative. "'Do you think that the Duchess had anything to do with the matter?' "'The great minister showed perceptible hesitation.

"'I do not think so,' he said at last. "'The other most obvious explanation is that the child has been kidnapped for the purpose of levying ransom. "'You have not had any demand of the sort?' "'No, sir.' "'One more question, your grace, I understand that you wrote to your son upon the day when this incident occurred.' "'No, I wrote upon the day before.' "'Exactly, but he received it on that day?' "'Yes.'

"'Was there anything in your letter which might have unbalanced him or induced him to take such a step?' "'No, sir, certainly not.' "'Did you post that letter yourself?' The nobleman's reply was interrupted by his secretary, who broke in with some heat. "'His grace is not in the habit of posting letters himself,' said he. This letter was laid with others upon the study table, and I myself put them in the postbag. You are sure this one was among them? Yes, I observed it.

How many letters did Your Grace write that day? Twenty or thirty. I have a large correspondence, but surely this is somewhat irrelevant. Not entirely, said Holmes. For my own part, the Duke continued, I have advised the police to turn their attention to the south of France. I have already said that I do not believe that the Duchess would encourage so monstrous in action, but the lad had the most wrong-headed opinions. And it is possible that he may have fled to her, aided and abetted by this German.

I think, Dr. Huxstable, that we will now return to the hall. I could see that there were other questions which Holmes would have wished to put, but the nobleman's abrupt manner showed that the interview was at an end. It was evident that to his intensely aristocratic nature, this discussion of his intimate family affairs with a stranger was most abhorrent, and that he feared lest every fresh question would throw a fiercer light into the discreetly shadowed corners of his ducal history. When the nobleman and his secretary had left,

my friend flung himself at once with characteristic eagerness into the investigation. The boy's chamber was carefully examined and yielded nothing save the absolute conviction that it was only through the window that he could have escaped. The German master's room and effects gave no further clue. In his case, a trailer of ivy had given way under his weight, and we saw, by the light of a lantern, the mark on the lawn where his heels had come down. That one dint in the short green grass was the only material witness left of this inexplicable nocturnal flight. Next time on Sherlock Holmes' short stories,

Holmes and Watson find a body on the Moors. They pay a visit to a distinctly disreputable inn. And a midnight vigil cracks the case wide open. That's next time. Can't wait a week until the next episode. Well, listen to it right away by subscribing to Noiser Plus. Head to www.noisor.com slash subscriptions for more information or click the link in the episode description. Spotify, it's Jay Shetty. Are you one of those media strategy people?

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