Sherlock Holmes: Baconian Cipher 05/27/1946 (Rathbone & Bruce)

Welcome to Choice Classic Radio, where we bring to you the greatest old-time radio shows. Like us on Facebook, subscribe to us on YouTube, and thank you for donating at choiceclassicradio.com. Petri Wine brings you Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce in the new Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. The Petri Family, the family that took time to bring you good wine, invites you to listen to Dr. Watson tell us another exciting adventure he shared with his old friend, that master detective, Sherlock Holmes. And I want to ask you something. You know, every now and then I've told you about the good old American custom of serving a glass of sherry before dinner, particularly Petri California sherry. And I wonder if you've tried that Petri sherry. Really, a glass of Petri sherry is the best beginning a good meal ever had. Petri sherry is clear, fragrant, and truly delicious. It's a wonderful wine whose flavor is the essence of luscious, sun-ripened grapes. And Petri makes two kinds of sherry wine, a regular sherry and Petri pale dry. If you don't know which you prefer, try them both. Don't buy one, buy two. But remember, always buy Petri because Petri wine is always good wine. Well, I'm sure Dr. Watson's ready for us. Let's go in and join him, shall we? Come in, come in, come in. Good evening, Mr. Bartels. Good evening, Doctor. Quiet, will you? Quiet, won't you? The dogs seem very pleased with themselves tonight. Did they have a good day? Yes, the three of us did, my boy. They're going on off on the patio. I took a seven-hour and some old golf balls on the beach this afternoon. I improved my game. I think them the dogs had a great time chasing the golf balls. On the way home, the little rascals had a furious battle with an elderly pelican. So their day was complete. I'll have to join you on one of your afternoon strolls, Doctor. You and the dog seem to have so much fun. Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Bartels. Well, draw up your usual chair, and I'll get on with tonight's Sherlock Holmes adventure. From the hints you gave us last week, I guess a Frenchman played a prominent part in the story. Yes, indeed he did, Mr. Bartels. His name was Francois Levière. And he was a detective of some note in his own country. The time my story begins, it was in 1889, to be exact. Levière had come over to London to discuss with Holmes the difficulties of translating some of his monographs into the French language. At this particular time, I was in the early days of my marriage. Mr. Bartels, in this fact, combined with a busy practice, meant that I saw very little of my old friend. He must have missed you, Doctor. Oh, indeed he did. Well, of course, he'd admit the fact, but to get on with my story. One cloudless June afternoon, I found myself in the neighbourhood of Baker Street, and I couldn't resist paying a visit to Holmes. Mrs. Hudson was out, but having retained my old latchkey, I let myself in and mounted the familiar stairs. It gave me a strange feeling as I raised my hand to knock on what once had been my own living room door. Kevin, Kevin! Hello, Holmes. Hello, Mr. Holmes. Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn't know you... Watson, my dear fellow. How very nice to see you. It's great to see you, Holmes. I'm sorry I interrupted you. I didn't know that you had company. Now at all, my dear fellow, we're delighted. Aren't we, Levière? Yes, we are. Watson, this is Mr. Levière. Well, how you do, sir. How you do. Ah, chante, monsieur. I often wish to meet the so charming Dr. Watson. Holmes has told me a great deal about you. Oh, that's very nice of you, sir. Ah, that's very sweet, monsieur Watson. You're a splendid old fellow. Gained a little weight, haven't you? Oh, yes, a few pounds a week. If it comes to you, sit down, won't you? You're sure that I'm not interrupting you in some important discussion? Oh, no, no, no, no, monsieur, doctor. We were having a good-natured argument on the relative abilities of the French criminal compared to the English. Oh, interesting. Well, as let me, your support, Watson, monsieur, Levière is convinced that the English criminal is a very dull dog indeed. Well, we've met some far from dull ones in our time. I assure you, monsieur Levière. Ah, the exceptions, rather than the rule, I fear, Monsieur, doctor. You're stubborn, aren't you, Levière? Believe me, my dear friend, that I will yield to no one in my admiration of your knowledge and skill. That is why I wish I could persuade you to practice in Paris. Ah, there you would find opponents really worthy of your steel. What can happen to interest you in this land of gray frogs, boiled potatoes and pots of tea? Excuse me for my sence, sir, you're not very flattering. Oh, not with so insular one. Oh, I'd like to offense my friend. Well, you say the English criminal is dull. Perhaps if you were to read a published story of mine called A Study in Scarlet, you'd think differently. It tells you a very exciting adventure that Holmes and I had. I have read it, my friend. An extremely gripping story, but surely you will admit that the crime was essentially of American origin. He's right, Watson. He's perfectly right, dear me. What can I do to vindicate the dishonor of the London criminal? Let me see. Oh, yes, yes, of course, a copy of today's Times. That's fine. I shall introduce you to a section known as the Agony Column. Where is it now? Oh, yes, here we are. This should convince you of the color and variety of English life. The Agony Column? It sounds most painful. What is it playing? A personal column is liable to contain anything from a lover's frantic appeal to his lady love to a ransom known. In my profession, I've frequently found it an invaluable medium for contacting the underworld. Yes, now, here we are. Here's something. Dear me. Oh, dear no. Today's column seems rather uninspired, I'm afraid. May I examine it? Of course. Here you are. Merci. If the lady you helped my little boy across the road at the corner of Threadwell Street and Hyoburn last Wednesday at four, or will get in touch with Box 845, she will learn of something to her advantage. It can be more colorful than that in Paris, my friend. I think we can do better than that too. Yeah, look at this, William. The printer must have been half asleep when he set up the type for this advertisement. Will any gentleman interested in discussing cryptography and cipher writing please communicate with Box XQL 696 the time? Oh, I failed to find this message anymore, stirring than the preceding one. You've noticed the exacruple printing, don't you? Indeed I do. It is all mixed up. The first word, will, starts with a capital W and a capital I. The second word, any, starts with a small a, and then has a capital N and Y. It is a shocking example of typography. And when it occurs in a paper noted for its excellence in typesetting, one realizes that this is no mistake. What do you mean, huh? This is undoubtedly a code message. Oh, come now, my friend. I defy even you to make a mystery out of a printer's negligence. I accept your challenge, my dear Levear. If you recall, the Baconian bilateral cipher depends upon the use of two sizes of type. If we group the letters in units of five, the arrangements of small and capital letters within the group should give us the message. Now, let's see. Two capitals followed by three small gives us the letter H, then two capitals, one small, two more. That gives us E, H. I still think you are trying to make an adventure out of a mere printing accident. No mere printing accident could so readily fall into one of the great traditional ciphers. Now, let's see. This message reads H, E, L, help, Q, two small, a Q-Y, Krilta, help, Krilta, L, L, two small and large, L, Lns, help, Krilta, Lns, Pe, there it is, yes. Penge, help, Krilta, Lns, Penge. Help, Krilta, Lns, Penge. What does that mean? Presumably, the man named Krilta, who lives at a house called the Elms, in the village of Penge, needs help. Ah, I see it now. A helpless victim, help prisoner. He smuggles out this message as a harmless personnel, with strict instructions that it be printed on this art form. He knows that the amateurs of cryptography, to whom it is addressed, will decipher this call for help. Et voilà. Monsieur LaVilla, you seem ready to grant that adventure can exist in London, after all. The advantage, my dear Watson, of a more mercurial temperament than we Englishmen possess. Well LaVilla, what about it? Shall we sit off for Penge and rescue the ingenious Mr Krilta from whatever dire fate awaits him in the Elms? I am all in patience. Spend it. Watson, I suppose you're too busy to join us. Too busy? Well, I mean, your practice, I'm sure that you have patience to attend to. Oh yes, yes, yes, of course, yes. As a matter of fact, I have two further visits to make today. One to a peppery old miser who has gout, and the other to a worthless society woman who has a cute attack of hype-con-try. Hype-con-ry, as they call it. But to places with a hint of hell both. I'm coming with you, Holmes, if you want, may I? Bravo, Watson, and grab your hat and coat. The game's afoot. Here you are, gents, the Helmspin. Nice afternoon for a drive, wasn't it? Very little cost you 15 Bob, though. Yes, I'm sovereign for you. You can keep the change. Oh, me, thank you, Governor. Top of the evening till you, gents. Aw, so this is the Helms, eh? Quite a bit of land for such a modest neighborhood. To call it the Helms seems remarkably necropo. I cannot see an Helm tree in sight. So you see Laviere, the English have more imagination. I cannot see an element, three in sight. So you see, Livia, the English have more imagination than you give them credit for. Are you just gonna walk up to the front door and knock him? Why not? The direct approach is often the most satisfactory. Oh, you disappoint me. I had hoped that perhaps you would adopt one of the disguises in which you are so adept, I am told. Well, since it's unlikely that these people know me by sight, that's hardly necessary, is it? However, I trust that this little problem may reward you with some colorful highlights before we throw it out. Well. Good, Scott. The Volvoshots. They came from the house. Ah, we are too late. Monsieur Coulter has been murdered. No, I think not. You will observe that the next-door neighbor to the Elms was mowing his front lawn as we drove up. He is still engaged in the same occupation. Obviously, the Volvoshots attract little attention this by sentencing. Come on, you mean that violence and sudden death are so common that they do not attract even the passing interest? Ah, no, V. Even the British are not as flake-matic as that. Then what is the answer to those shots, home? Looks on member of this household is addicted to pistol practice. The fact that a shooting target is nailed to the back of that fence over there would further support the theory. Well, that's rather ominous, in my opinion. Well, give me out the front door. Let's keep our wits about us anyway. Are you carrying a revolver, Dr. Watson? No, near stethoscope, I'm afraid. I was prepared for sickness when I left the house today and not for crime. I, too, am unarmed. How about you, Mr. Holmes? Only a magnifying glass, I'm afraid. Hardly a very lethal weapon. Yes? My friends and I were calling on Mr. Quilter. Oh, who are you? My name is Sherlock Holmes and these are my friends, Dr. Watson and Monsieur Leviard. How do you do, madam? How do you do? Mr. Quilter, expect... I don't know. We read his advertisement in the agony column of the Times today and came down here at once. Are you a relation of his? I'm his niece. My name is Doris Favisham. Come in, won't you? Uh, Miss Favisham, I suppose it is. Yes, doctor. It's Miss Favisham. We, uh, had three revolver shots as we were walking up the driveway. They gave us quite a start. Yes, mademoiselle. We were afraid that we might have arrived at the time of tragedy. Yes, indeed. Tragedy? Oh, ho-ho-ho! My hobby is revolver shooting. I was doing some target practice in the back garden as you arrived. Revolver shooting, Miss Favisham. Very interesting. I flatter myself that I'm something of a marksman myself. Oh, really? Well, perhaps we can have a match. Won't you sit down? Your challenge intrigues me, Miss Favisham, but, uh, before I accept it, I should like to see Mr. Quilter. Well, Uncle George is paralyzed, you know. Oh, well. It's been too early to find him in a wheelchair. I'm not at all sure he'll see you. Well, at least you can ask him. Can't you, Miss Favisham? It is his custom at this time of the day to take a little nap. Perhaps tomorrow... Doris! Doris! Oh, he's still awake. Who's this? Yes, Uncle. Some men have come to see you, Uncle. Bring him in, bring him in. Follow me, gentlemen. Uncle, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, and Mr... Mr. Livia. And Mr. Livia. How do you do, sir? Sherlock Holmes, eh? You took long enough to decipher my message and get here, didn't it? Your brother's a much faster worker, isn't he? Oh, what makes you say that, Mr. Quilter? Receive this telegram from him at 11 o'clock this morning. Read it for yourself. Well, what to say, huh? Suggest you consult my brother Sherlock, and it's signed by Croft Holmes. Yes, Mr. Quilter and I. My brother is a much faster worker. Or shall we say that he suffers from the unfortunate habit of early rising? He undoubtedly read the agony column three hours before I did today. Don't know about that, but I've been expecting you all day. I imagine you know why I inserted that advertisement. Well, I had the impression that you were under some form of restraint, that you were in need of a rescue party, as it were. Rubbish. My advertisement was a piece of subtle bait. The only person that could decipher the message would obviously be someone who knew the Bacconian cipher. Very logical deduction, Mr. Quilter. You see, I'm convinced, as any sensible man should be, that the so-called Shakespearean plays were written by Sir Francis Bacon. Oh, I see. But I felt that it needed a clever man to approve the fact. I was sure that anyone who was able to decipher my message was the man I needed. And what will you take, Mr. Holmes, to do the job? I'm a rich man, name you Fee. You mean to say that you invagal Mr. Holmes down here just to do some research on the origin of Shakespeare's work? You needn't look so shocked, Dr. Watson. My uncle is offered to pay him a handsome fee. Well, what do you say, Mr. Sherlock Holmes? An interesting subject for research. I'll concede that Ignatius Donnelly and others have proved almost beyond doubt that William Shakespeare of Stratford and Avon did not write the plays, but I greatly doubt that Lord Bacon did. I may devote my leisure and later years to some investigation on the subject, but in the meanwhile, Mr. Quilter, I'm afraid I'm much too busy to undertake such an assignment. Please yourself. Show the gent from now, Doris. Goodbye, sir. Good afternoon, sir. Too bad you had this long drive down here for nothing, gentlemen. You know who I quite agree on. It would seem to me that your uncle has a distinct talent for practical joking, mademoiselle. Uncle? Uncle never made a joke in his life. Mr. Holmes, now that you're here, perhaps you'd like to indulge in a little shooting match. Thank you, Miss Favisham, but as I told your uncle, I'll say, man, good evening to you. Goodbye, gentlemen. Goodbye. Holmes, old fellow, you're losing your touch. You'd never made a blunder like this if I'd still been with you. It is comforting for an aspiring detective like myself to know that the great Sherlock Holmes is fallible. Yes, indeed. Then am I to assume that I must continue the case alone? What do you mean continue the case? There isn't one. Well, it is in no danger. He's in desperate danger. What? I'm only afraid I may be too late to save him. What, we have just spoken to the men. Oh, no. Did neither of you notice the traces of fresh loom on the boots of that supposedly paralyzed man? Gentlemen, I fear the agony column has led us to murder. You'll hear the rest of Dr. Watson's story in just a second. Time and up for me to mention that any meal is a better meal when it's served with a Petri dinner wine. If you're having chicken or fish, use Petri California Sautern. Petri Sautern is a subtle, delicately flavored white wine that looks and tastes like captured sunshine. If you're having a roast or chops or any kind of meat or meat dish, then by all means, serve Petri California Burgundy. Petri Burgundy is a hearty, full-flavored red wine, one of the most delicious red wines you ever poured from a bottle. When I get a bottle of each, Petri Burgundy and Petri Sautern, then, no matter what you have for dinner, you'll surely have the right wine, a Petri wine. Well, Doctor, why did you have to break off your story there? Well, I had to break it off somewhere, Mr. Bartell, but that seemed to be the most exciting spot. It certainly was. I was convinced that the Great Sherlock Holmes had been fooled for once. What happened next? Well, I need this to the mark. We did not get into a cab and go back to London, but let me pick up the story at the same place that I broke it off. As Holmes said... Gentlemen, I fear the agony column has led us to murder. Murder? There was fresh earth and the souls of his boots, you see? And the traces, proving that the man in the wheelchair was not paralyzed. And that man who every year was impersonating Quilter to put us off the track. And the real Quilter may have been killed, eh? I'm afraid so. Let's stop here for a moment, shall we, while we make our plans. This hedge will hide us from the house in case they're watching from the windows. Now, this isn't a hard picture to reconstruct. There undoubtedly is or was a paralyzed Bacconian scholar named Quilter. He managed to smuggle out that ingenious grief for help, but Mycroft's unfortunate telegram gave the game away. I see it now. The people in there, holding him prisoner, forced him to reveal what he has done, eh? What they may have done to him heaven alone knows. One of the criminals, guessing from the telegram that I might appear on the case, posed as the crippled Quilter. What's our next move, Holmes? Remember that singularly unattractive young lady, skillful little vulva? We must search the grounds as unobtrusively as we can. Search the grounds? For what? I can answer that question, Moshe Doctor. We search for signs of the freshly turned earth of a grave. Well, we didn't find any traces of the poor devil's corpse, thank heavens. No. A great disappointment. You're very bloodthirsty, the villian. Hello. Look at the old fellow trimming the hedge over there. Must be the gardener. It's a chap for them, shall we? May be able to give us some information. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you. Good evening to you, gentlemen. You work for Mr. Quilter? That I do, sir. That I do. Very fine work, too. I've seldom seen a better kept garden. I thank you, sir. I do pride myself in my work. I wonder if you can help me. Be glad to, if I can, sir. Sir, did you see a telegraph boy deliver a message here this morning? That I did, sir. The boy came here about ten o'clock this morning. I was a clip in the front edge at the time. And you've been working here ever since? Yes, sir. Brought my lunch with me today and ate it in the garden. Has anyone entered or left the house since that telegram was delivered? No, sir. No one except yourselves. I see, I see. I suppose you occasionally run errands for Mr. Quilter? Not much these days, sir. The poor old gentleman keeps his chair in the house pretty much all the time, sir. I did run a message for him yesterday, though. Oh, you did? Where to? Well, sir, I was pruning the rose bushes under his study windows. When the window opens and his hand comes out with a message. He told me to take it to the village office at the times and to tell him to print it just the way it was. He looked kind of worried when he gave me the message. And he whispered to me, just as if he was afraid in his own house. I much obliged you. Here's five shillings for your trouble. Oh, thank you, sir. Much obliged to you, I'm sure. Good evening. Good evening to you, gentlemen. Well, sir, that's how the message was smuggled out. And no one has come to the house or left it since that telegram was delivered? Therefore, Kultivar, his body must still be inside that house. We are going to search the house? Yes, we are. But we're not armed, are they? Certainly are. They probably won't even let us in. Yes, they will. We have an infallible key to entry, a woman's vanity. Come on. Oh, so you came back. I thought you wouldn't be able to resist my challenge to a pistol match, Mr. Holmes. Exactly, Miss Favisham. We had difficulty in finding a cab and decided to take a train back to London. It was an hour's wait, so I, well, I thought I'd accept your challenge. Good. Come here. I'll take you to the hospital. I'll take you to the hospital. I'll take you to the hospital. I've been waiting for an hour, so I, well, I thought I'd accept your challenge. Good. Come here. We'll go into the back garden. Thank you. Don't talk loudly. I think Uncle's asleep in the next room. Don't bring anybody in here, Doris. I want to sleep. All right, Uncle. This way, gentlemen. If your Uncle wants to sleep, seems the fun is sort of held ab-held abide. Oh, well, he's used to that, Doctor. Here we are. This is a 50-yard range, Mr. Holmes. Three shots. Best aggregate score wins. Holmes, do you want a bet? You name the steak. Name the steak, Miss Favisham. Saval? Certainly. You, uh, take the first three shots. Very well. And just check that it's loaded. Here's six bullets. All right. Here I go. Bravo, Miss Favisham. Splendid. Bullseye and two inners. I can do better. Your turn, Mr. Holmes. Doris? Who are these men? Friends of mine. I'll introduce you in a minute, Geoffrey. We're in the middle of a match at the moment. Your turn, Mr. Holmes. Any vulva, please? Here you are. Thank you. You, uh, you're sure you know how to handle a vulva? Quite sure, thanks. And why are you pointing it at me? Because I want you to raise your hands above your head. You too, whatever your name is. Doris, who are these men? Put up your hands. I shan't hesitate to shoot. I assure you. Come on. That's it. What in heaven's name do you think you're up to? Finding out what became of the real Mr. Quilter. Search the man, Watson. Right, your homes. B.R., uh, go to the house where you've been searching. Oh, yes, but of course. Hello, this man had a revolver on his hip. Keep him covered with it. He'll stand still, you. Now, sir, who are you? From your resemblance to the man in the wheelchair that we saw earlier, I should say that you're a member of the same family. We're both relatives of Mr. Quilter. That's right. My name's Davis. I'm from the Australian branch of the family. Relatives, yes. And, doubtless, you stood to inherit his estate in the event of Quilter's death. You moved in on this defenseless old man, terrorized him, lived off him, and finally found it necessary to destroy him. No. You're talking absolute rubbish. She's killing the truth, and you know it. I can tell by your expressions. No bag in the house, both of you. Come on. And keep your hands raised. All right, that's it. Come on. Lead the way into the study. The man posing as Mr. Quilter is still there. We heard him call out as we came in. Yes, we might as well confront the three of them together. Yes, he's still seated in the chair. He seems to be asleep. Viola, did you find anything? Another trace of the missing men, Mr. Holmes. There is. What did you do with Mr. Quilter? What didn't do anything with him? Of course not. He's sitting there in that chair. It's no good lying to us. We know that that man's an imposter. This is a fantastic situation. Nobody has left this house since the telegram arrived, and nobody has come to it and yet Mr. Quilter has vanished. Lord, how can he sleep through all this talk? You think he'd been drugged? Viola, we're idiots. You are unquestionably the most promising detective in France, and some people have been kind enough to grant me a similar status in England, and yet my old friend Watson has just solved the case. Nothing. I was just too happy to... What? Solved it? How? Listen to the breathing of that man in the chair. What? He's been drugged. There sits the real Mr. Quilter, the persecuted victim who sent a cypher message for help. The man we spoke to earlier. Was you, Mr. Davies, impersonating Quilter? Art, you'd received us. You took off your disguise, adopted an Australian accent, and then hid your drug victim by placing him in his own wheelchair, knowing that would be the last place we'd look for him. And they would have kept him here until we had gone and then murdered him. What a devilish plot. Well, what have you got to say to yourselves? It was Jeffrey's idea, not mine. I didn't have anything to do with it. That's a dirty lie. You were in this as much as I am. Oh, this is splendid. It's a splendid... ...the argument. It'll make interesting evidence and court. You can't take us into court. Of course you can't. What's the charge? Quilter's still alive, isn't he? When Mr. Quilter revives under Dr. Watson's ministrations, you will be charged, I have no doubt, with attempted murder, abduction, sequestration, juresse, and probably several other counts. Monsieur Vier, if you will find us a cab, we'll take these miscreants to Scotland Yard. Our work is done. MUSIC Well, Doctor, that was a fine story. I've...what are you fidgeting for? Fidgeting me? Well, I'm expecting a guest. I thought I heard him just now. Now, the front door. A guest? Now, you're being as mysterious as Mr. Holm. Oh, not quite. You see, I...ah-ha! Come in. Dr. Watson, how are you, old Raston? Hello, Gregory, my boy. It's great to see you again. Mr. Bartell, meet my friend Mr. Gregory Hood. Not THE Gregory Hood. Mr. Bartell, I like the way you say that. Yes, Mr. Bartell, this is THE Gregory Hood. Mr. Bartell, if you listen to Dr. Watson, he'll lead you to believe I'm much more important than I am. I'm quite a simple person, really. I'm kind to dogs, just love little children, and always help old ladies cross the street. I also know how to make a fire by rubbing two sticks together. Yes, and unlike my old friend Holmes, you pretend to know very little about criminals and crime, and yet you're one of America's outstanding criminologists. So I've heard. A hobby, Mr. Bartell, a hobby. My real business is importing headquarters San Francisco. Need any old masters? Perhaps I can sell you a nice piece of jade, or would you rather have a bit of old Balinese sculpture? Oh, wait a minute. This is all a little too fast. Yes, you learned that Gregory is a little too fast for everybody. Yeah, but Mr. Bartell, I'm sure you'll get to know Mr. Hood a good deal better. You see, as I've told you, I've always wanted to take a trip back to England, and now I have a chance to do so. But, Doctor, won't I see you again? What about our story? Oh, I shall be back in the fall, but meanwhile, I've asked Mr. Gregory Hood to get together with you at this time every week and tell you some of his experiences. Which, of course, makes me feel very important. Mr. Hood, as you know, has been involved in many famous cases dealing in crime. His importing business and his hobby criminology are a strange combination. I learned that he keeps a diary of these cases, and it's a fascinating book. A Casebook of Gregory Hood. A Casebook of Gregory Hood? Sounds intriguing. Intriguing? Huh, it certainly is. Thank you. Well, then I can tell all our friends be sure to listen next week at the same time and every Monday night through the summer to the Casebook of Gregory Hood. Tonight's Sherlock Holmes adventure was written by Dennis Green and Anthony Boucher, and was suggested by an incident in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's story, The Sign of Four. Music is by Dean Fosler. Mr. Rathbone appears through the courtesy of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Mr. Bruce through the courtesy of Universal Pictures, where they are now starring in the Sherlock Holmes series. Music plays. The Petri Wine Company of San Francisco, California invites you to tune in again next week, same time, same station. Sherlock Holmes comes to you from our Hollywood Studios. Music plays. This is Harry Bartell saying goodnight for the Petri family. This is the Mutual Broadcasting System.