Rosebud at Christmas - Treat Episode - Murder at the Palace

0:21This is Jens Brandreth, welcoming you to Rosebud's Christmas Murder Mystery. I hope you're going to enjoy this. It's a story that I've written set in late Victorian England. Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, met Oscar Wilde, the famous wit, poet and playwright, and they got on quite well. And on the basis of their casual friendship, I thought it'd be quite fun to create some murder mysteries featuring them as my protagonists. Oscar Wilde as a kind of Sherlock Holmes and Arthur Conan Doyle as a kind of Dr. Watson. And this is a story I've written for you to enjoy this Christmas.

1:04If you like it, next year, if you join the Rosebud family, there may be more murder mysteries in store. But let's have a go with this one. It's a Christmas murder mystery. If you asked Arthur Conan Doyle about his most memorable Christmas, this is what he might tell you. The story is called Murder at the Palace.

1:38Which Christmas party do I remember best? Without question, that of 1892. Why? Because it was at Buckingham Palace. And because of the murder, of course. It was the week before Christmas, the night of Wednesday the 21st of December, the longest night of the year. I was thirty-three, alone in London, and missing my wife. Because of her tuberculosis on doctor's orders, the dear girl had been sent to Switzerland with our young son to escape the bitter winter fogs, the notorious pea supers that so bedeviled the capital of the empire in those days. I was to join her and our boy on Christmas Eve, but meanwhile remained at home at my desk by day, completing yet another of my Sherlock Holmes adventure stories, and by night looking, if not for adventure, at least for the distraction of agreeable company.

2:36That evening I'd accepted an invitation to dine with the celebrated wit and playwright Oscar Wilde. I did not know him well, but we'd met now and then as fellow authors, and I found his companionship amusing. People said he was the greatest talker of his time, and it was true. He had a wonderful way with words, a brilliant mind, a charming manner, and a generous heart. He was a few years older than me, taller, broader, larger in every way, with an extravagant dress sense that ensured he stood out in a crowd. Next to him, I always felt I was a bit of a dull stick. I met him, as arranged, at the Albemarle Club off Piccadilly and found him in the drawing-room, standing with his back to the roaring log fire, dressed in a bottle-green velvet evening suit, sporting a pale green carnation in his buttonhole, holding a Turkish cigarette in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.

3:38It's a Perrier Jouet 84, Arthur, he announced. nodding towards the ice bucket. A fine vintage. Help yourself. I've ordered another bottle. His face was flushed. An impish smile played on his full lips. Do I look like the spirit of Christmas present? He asked. I hope so. You look a little tipsy, Oscar, I said, helping myself to a glass of the chilled champagne. Ah, yes, he sighed contentedly. I have discovered that alcohol, taken in sufficient quantities, produces all the effects of intoxication. Do we have time for a second bottle? I asked. We do, he replied. We are not due at the palace until ten o 'clock.

4:22At the palace? I queried. I should have forewarned you, my friend, but the invitation only reached me an hour ago. He rested his champagne glass on the mantelpiece and produced a telegram from his pocket and waved it towards me. We are commanded to dine with the Prince of Wales at ten o 'clock at Buckingham Palace. and impromptu Christmas supper. You know the Prince of Wales? I do. He may be Queen Victoria's son, but he has some quite eccentric friends. He's a most delightful fellow and generously overlooks my Republican sympathies, much as I do my best to overlook the fact that he is the Prince of Wales.

5:02And he's invited you to join him for a Christmas supper at Buckingham Palace? "'He's invited you too, Arthur.' "'But he doesn't know me,' I protested. "'He knows Sherlock Holmes,' answered Oscar. "'He admires Sherlock Holmes. "'He's eager to meet Holmes's creator.' "'Will the Queen be there?' I asked, "'somewhat confused by Oscar's tidings. "'Oh, no,' answered my friend, "'pocketing the royal telegram "'and lighting another cigarette "'from the still-lit tip of his last. "'Her Majesty is an unhappy widow. "'No, she is spending Christmas, as ever, in mourning at Osborne House on the Isle of White.' "'Will the Princess of Wales be there?' "'No, no,' replied Oscar, luring his voice.

5:45"'Princess Alexandra is an unhappy wife, and she is preparing for a solemn family Christmas at Sandringham. Her husband will join her on Christmas Eve, I believe, but tonight he'll be playing the bachelor with a few like-minded souls. It should be a memorable party.' "'And so it proved. "'We left the club at half-past nine "'and walked along Albemarle Street to find a cab on Piccadilly. "'The cold night air and a gentle gust of light snow "'served to sober up, my friend. "'At the corner of the street, close by the cab-rank, "'stood a clutch of dishevelled-looking carol singers. "'We stopped to listen, "'and when the leader of the band came round with his hat, "'Oscar, with the impetuous extravagance that was typical of him, pressed a silver sovereign on the man and said, Go home, my friend, and light a fire.

6:36Christmas is the time for home and hearth. I had not been to Buckingham Palace before. The experience fully lived up to my expectations. As our four-wheeler swept through the palace gates, guardsmen saluted. There were flaming torches on either side of the entrance portico, and a huge candlelit Christmas tree welcomed us in the ground-floor vestibule. The attendant footmen all appeared to know Oscar and murmured, Good evening, Mr. Wilde, at every opportunity. The prince's personal page was awaiting us at the head of the principal staircase. Supper is being served in the yellow dining-room, gentlemen, he said in a hushed tone.

7:19Please follow me. His Royal Highness is there already. We are late, exclaimed Oscar anxiously. No, you are on time, precisely, boomed a voice from the far end of the red-carpeted corridor. The clock has just struck ten. The Prince of Wales stood at the open door of the yellow dining-room. He was both shorter and stouter than I had expected. He was fifty-one in 1892, but looked older. His reddish beard was heavily flecked with silver. There were heavy bags of grey flesh under his red-rimmed eyes. As we reached him, he stretched out both hands to Oscar. "'Welcome, my dear fellow,' he said warmly.

8:01"'Merry Christmas!' Oscar, towering above the prince, clicked his heels and bowed his head. "'Your Royal Highness,' he murmured secrecy, before turning towards me and continuing, "'May I present Dr. Arthur Conan Doyle?' "'Delighted to meet you, Dr. Doyle!' The prince shook my hand and looked me keenly in the eye. "'I'm a great admirer of Sherlock Holmes. "'After supper we shall be playing a game in his honour. "'And yours. "'Do you know the game of murder? "'It's a seasonal favourite in our house. "'You will have to play the detective, of course.' "'I said nothing, but nodded my acquiescence. "'Who is to play the murderer?' asked Oscar lightly.

8:43"'That is for Dr. Doyle to discover,' chuckled the prince. "'Please make your way into the supper room and meet the suspects. There's another doctor among them, and other writers, too. I shall join you in a moment. I apologize if we've kept your royal highness waiting, repeated Oscar. You have not, said the prince emphatically. Miss Turner is yet to arrive. Miss Turner, inquired Oscar, surprised. Miss Ida Turner, the principal boy from the Drury Lane pantomime? The very same, answered the prince. "'This is our Christmas supper, and Prince Charming will be of the party. "'I've only met her once, briefly, in her dressing-room, in her boy's attire, "'but I found her quite enchanting.

9:27"'She has promised to join us tonight, dressed as a fairy-tale princess. "'I am certain she will not disappoint.' "'He beamed. "'I was amused to see the glint in his bloodshot eyes. "'Now, go in, gentlemen. You will know everybody.' To my surprise, I did indeed know two of the six people standing around the Christmas tree at the far end of the dining room. Oscar knew them too. They were Bram Stoker, then General Manager at the Lyceum Theatre and later to become famous as the author of Dracula, and his beautiful wife, Florence Balcombe, who in Dublin, when they were young, had once been Oscar's sweetheart.

10:06We smiled at them. They smiled at us. "'Ah!' chortled the white-bearded, red-cheeked gentleman in the middle of the group. "'I see you already know, too, of our little party.' "'He wore a crimson velvet evening jacket to rival Oscars "'and sported a sprig of mistletoe in his buttonhole. "'I'm Charles Harbord, Fifth Baron Suffield, Lord-in-waiting to His Royal Highness.' "'He screwed his face into a grimace "'and looked the very image of Santa Claus "'in a children's picture-book. "'Mr. and Mrs. Stoker, you already know. "'May I present the ladies?' "'There were three of them standing in a row alongside him.

10:49"'The Countess of Stedgeford, "'much-valued friend of his Royal Highness.' "'We bowed towards the handsome flame-haired lady "'in her mid-forties, whom I knew it was said "'had been one of the Prince's favourite mistresses. "'She smiled at us knowingly, and inclined her head. "'Dr. Robert Dayath,' continued the Lord-in-waiting, indicating the second and youngest of the trio, a slim, pretty, dark-haired woman who seemed to me to be no more than twenty-five. Dr. Dayath, as you may know, is one of the first women to qualify as a doctor in the British Isles, and certainly the first female to be appointed an apothecary to the royal household.

11:29She has only been with us for a matter of weeks, but, if I may say so, "'he's already a firm favourite.' "'A fine achievement, Dr. Dath,' "'I said to the young woman, shaking her hand. "'An amusing name,' said Oscar, smiling. "'And Lady Rogerson, I think you may also know,' "'concluded the Lord-in-waiting, "'presenting the last in the line. "'A tall, angular, thin-faced woman "'of indeterminate age but striking appearance. "'She was dressed from top to toe as a man.' "'Yes, indeed,' said Oscar. "'Lady R, the poetess.' "'The poet,' said the lady crisply. "'And the princess!' called out the Prince of Wales, "'as he led one of the most beautiful creatures "'I had ever seen across the room towards us.

12:20"'Miss Ida Turner, ladies and gentlemen.' The girl was so beautiful, "'with golden hair falling in thick curls onto her bare shoulders. She wore an ivory-coloured evening dress of crushed silk beaded with pearls, and curtsied to us as the prince presented her proudly. Isn't she an enchantment, he purred. The Countess of Statuette pursed her lips. And wearing, I see, she said tartly, the gold and porcelain necklace the late Prince Albert gave as a Christmas present to the Queen not long before he died. Yes, well, Mama can scarcely wear it now, growled the Prince of Wales. It would be unbecoming at her great age.

13:04I have lent it to Miss Turner, and, as we can see, it suits her admirably. Recovering his smile, the Prince looked around his motley group of guests. Let us take our places, ladies and gentlemen. A simple Christmas supper is served. In its way, it was a simple supper. Lobster bisque, followed by fillets of sole, followed by woodcock pie, followed by plum pudding with custard sauce. His Royal Highness ate greedily, introducing each course in turn. The plum pudding is made to the recipe of Signor Francatelli, my mother's devoted chef. The custard sauce is German and was a favourite of my father's.

13:45He laughed. I can't stand all the Christmas trees, he insisted on littering up the place with. that dogs keep raising their legs to them, but his taste in custard couldn't be faulted. There were ten of us at table, and five footmen in attendance. The prince sat at one end of the table, with Miss Turner and Mrs. Stoker on either side of him. His old mistress, the Countess, was seated at the other end of the table, with Father Christmas, Lord Suffield, the Lord-in-waiting, on her right and me on her left. To my left sat the young female doctor, and to her left sat Bram Stoker. Opposite them, between Flory Stoker and Lord Suffield, sat Oscar and Lady Rogerson, the poet.

14:33I heard Oscar ask her how she came to be acquainted with the prince. I won a prize for one of my poems, she explained, and was presented to His Royal Highness at a gathering at the Royal Society of Literature. He appeared much taken by my masculine attire. She looked down the table towards the beautiful Miss Turner in her crushed silk gown and necklace of gleaming gold and sparkling porcelain, and added disdainfully, I can't see how that young lady could ever make a convincing principal boy. She's far too well endowed. Certainly the young actress's gently palpitating bosom was making its presence felt as she laughed prettily at every one of her royal host's remarks.

15:17He gave her all his attention, as did Bram Stoker, much to the evident irritation of Mrs. Stoker, who sat scowling across the table from him. Indeed, Bram and the Prince's delight in the lady from Drury Lane was only matched by the palpable disapproval of most of the rest of the royal party. It will end in tears, it will all end in tears, muttered the Countess of Stetchford sourly. Yet again, added Lord Suffield, now looking less like Father Christmas and more like a disobliging old goblin. It was an eccentric gathering, albeit a delicious meal, washed down by the finest wines, champagne, chablis, and claret, served in a fabulous setting.

16:04The walls of the yellow dining room were covered in Chinese silk. In the candlelight, shadows danced on the walls as the footmen went about their work. The table was covered in shimmering white damask. In the centre of the table, between the candelabra wrapped about with sprigs of holly and ivy, was a silver salver decorated with Christmas roses and piled high with what appeared to be a collection of elaborately painted and bejeweled Easter eggs. Lord Sarfield saw me studying them. No, he said, they are not Easter eggs. They are Christmas presents. Eggs with enamel shells, encrusted with gold and studded with diamonds.

16:47Open them up, and there are more jewels inside. They are made in Russia, in St. Petersburg, by M. Fabergé, the imperial jeweler, and given each Christmas to members of the British royal family by their Russian cousins. They're rather beautiful, are they not? Before I could reply, the Countess said, quite loudly, They're very vulgar, in my opinion. A silence fell in the room, and the clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight. The Prince of Wales turned to one of the footmen. Orkins, kindly turn down the gasolineer and extinguish all the candles in the room, save this one here. Then leave us, and do not return until we call for you.

17:31The footman bowed, and with his colleagues began to follow the prince's orders. His Royal Highness looked around the table. It is Christmas-tide, a season of goodwill towards all men, and the time of the year when, after a Christmas supper with friends, we play games. I propose we start with a game of murder. "'Must we, Bertie?' asked the Countess from her end of the table. "'You know you enjoy it, Countess,' replied the Prince, narrowing his eyes. "'You may get to play the murderer this year.' He reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a handful of small playing cards. "'Nine cards,' he announced.

18:17"'The two to nine of hearts and the knave. Whoever draws the knave will be the murderer. He shuffled the cards and passed them face down to his left. Mrs. Stoker, he instructed, kindly take one card and pass on the rest. As the cards went around the table, the prince continued. Our new friend, Dr. Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, has kindly agreed to be the detective. A murmur of approval from my fellow guests greeted the news, and then, a little unsteadily, the prince got to his feet and blew out the lone candle on the table. In the sudden darkness he announced, Now, stay where you are, or move where you will.

19:07Murder will out. We heard the scraping of a chair, the scuffle of footsteps, and a sudden ear-piercing scream as a body fell to the floor. For a brief moment, after we heard the piercing scream and the sound of a body falling to the floor, the room was quite still. No one moved. No one breathed a word. Then, in the darkness, the Prince of Wales laughed. Well, that didn't take long. The murderer appears to have struck before we'd even got started. The Countess of Stetchford snapped from her end of the table, For God's sake, give us some light, Bertie. The Prince, still chuckling, obeyed his mistress's command.

19:52We heard his chair scrape back. We heard him fumbling in his pockets for a match. Around the table, the other men, myself, my friends, Oscar Wilde and Bram Stoker, Lord Suffield, the Prince's Lord-in-waiting, all did the same, so that within seconds five matches had been lit and the snuffed-out candles on the table were brought to life once more. It was then we saw the full horror of it. A few feet from the Christmas dining-table, with its sparkling silver and crystal, with its festoons of holly and ivy, with its centrepiece of Fabergé eggs nestling in a bed of Christmas roses, sprawled on the rug at the foot of the Christmas tree, was a woman's body, arms and legs spread wide like St.

20:37Catherine on her wheel. In her left hand, she clutched a knife. We realised at once it was Miss Ida Turner, the principal boy from the Drury Lane pantomime, the Prince of Wales' newly found fairy-tale princess. The Prince turned towards the scene. I must say she's a damn fine actress. Still, no one moved. I felt I was caught in some dreadful dream in a half-lit dining-room at Buckingham Palace of all improbable places, with the future King of England standing at the head of the table, chuckling, and a beautiful actress lying spread-eagled on the floor. "'Is she play-acting?' muttered Lord Suffield.

21:22"'I do not think so,' said Flory Stoker softly. "'She looks quite dead to me.' "'For God's sake, do something!' squawked the Countess of Stedford, getting to her feet. She turned to me fiercely. "'You're a doctor, aren't you?' I had not practised medicine for several years, but I was a doctor. Galvanised, I woke from my reverie and began to move around the table towards the body. No, said the young woman who had been seated next to me. As she got to her feet, she pushed me back. No, I'm a doctor too, and a woman. I'll see to it. Dr. Death hurried round the table, past the prince, and knelt down by the body on the rug.

21:59She did what I would have done. She felt for the girl's pulse, both at her neck and in the wrist of her right arm. She turned back to look at us all now, standing around the table. In the half-light we could not see her face clearly, but we saw the white of her eyes. She's dead, she said. She spoke calmly, with a quiet authority that belied her years. She is quite dead, I'm afraid. She turned to the motionless figure and, with both hands holding the dead actress's right arm, lifted the body briefly to reveal a torso covered in blood and gore. Flory Stoker whimpered. The Countess stifled a scream.

22:43Too much blood, murmured Oscar. Too much. Oh, poor girl, cried the Prince. She was here as my guest. How can this have happened? It was only to have been a game. He collapsed into his chair, shaking his head, bewildered. We must call the police, I said. No, protested Lord Suffield urgently. That is not possible. That would cause a scandal. We must protect His Royal Highness at all costs. It's the girl who's dead, I answered sharply. His Royal Highness is not in any danger. It's his reputation that is in danger, said Lord Suffield coadly. we must not involve the police at any price.' When I had first encountered the red-cheeked lord-in-waiting two hours earlier, he had seemed like Santa Claus to me.

23:30Now I took him for the devil incarnate. "'We must call the police,' I repeated. "'A murder has taken place,' said Bram Stoker, staring bleakly at the body lying at the foot of the Christmas tree. "'Has it?' queried Oscar. He was leaning across the table to light another of his Turkish cigarettes from the cantalabre on the table. Has she been murdered? She is dead, said Dr. Dayath, who remained crouching by the body. Her hand was resting on the actress's bare shoulder. So one of us must have killed her, said Bram Stoker. Oh, don't be absurd, sir, barked Lord Suffield. She is dead, and we are here.

24:13The footmen have left the room. "'Bram gazed around the table. "'There's no one else. "'It must be one of us. "'Lord Sarfield harumphed disdainfully. "'And why would one of us want to murder that wretched girl?' "'Why, indeed,' I asked. "'Had this been a game,' I said, "'His Royal Highness wished that I played the role of the detective. "'In that capacity, I might have suggested, my lord, "'that you had a motive for murdering that wretched girl, as you call her. You did not wish to see your prince and master fall into the clutches of another young actress, so you thought you would remove her from the scene before His Royal Highness became too smitten.

24:54You're impertinence, sir. I did not kill the girl. I do not suggest that you did, but I do say that you have a motive for doing so. This is outrageous, hissed the Lord-in-waiting. The Countess of Stetford took Lord Suffield's arm in a show of courteous solidarity. "'And you, Your Grace,' I said, turning to the Countess, "'perhaps you had a motive too. "'Jealousy has provoked many a murder, "'and you could be forgiven for suffering a pang of jealousy "'seeing the Prince so taken by such a young and pretty rival?' "'You go too far, Dr. Conan Doyle,' said the Prince from the head of the table. "'My apologies, Your Rod Hannes.

25:35"'I was only trying to show how a number of our party "'might have been provoked to take the poor girl's life.' As I spoke, my eye caught that of Flory Stoker. Mrs. Stoker, for example, seemed troubled by the attention her husband was giving to the beautiful young lady. I looked across at my friend Bram, and Mr. Stoker, of course, is well known for his curious interest in vampires, creatures who take advantage of darkness to prey upon innocent young women. The young woman was anything but innocent, said Lady Rogerson, the poet. She was staring at the body on the floor. She spoke without emotion.

26:17I did not like her. I had picked the knave of hearts. Had we been playing the game, I was to be the murderer. But I do assure you, I did not kill her. None of us killed her, said Oscar. Of that you can be certain. He blew a thin purple plume of cigarette smoke into the air as all eyes turned towards him. The young lady was not murdered. She has taken her own life. Of course, muttered Lord Suffield. Of course, Mr. Wilde, exactly. Ah, yes, sighed the Countess. That must be the explanation. Oscar, holding his cigarette between his fingers, pointed towards the dead girl's body. See, she is holding the knife in her left hand.

27:07I noticed at dinner that she was left-handed. When His Royal Highness extinguished the candle at the start of the game, we only heard one pair of feet moving. We all sat as we were as the girl rushed at once from the table and plunged the knife into her own heart. This is not a murder, but a tragic suicide. The Prince of Wales turned in his chair and looked bleakly over at the body beneath the Christmas tree. Oh, poor dear girl, I am so sorry. Should we not call the police? I persisted. No, said Lord Saffield sharply. If it's suicide, we can throw her body into the River Thames. Let's wash away the evidence.

27:50I laughed. You might be seen, Lord Saffield. You might be caught in the act. The palace footman can do it, he said wildly. And would they keep your secret? I asked. I fear Dr. Conan Doyle is right, said the Prince of Wales, with a heavy sigh. We should call the police. There is no need, said Dr. Dayath. I can take her to the morgue at St. Thomas's Hospital. I shall say we found her body in the street. The police can come and take her from there. It is the 21st of December, said Oscar, the feast of St. Thomas, as chance would have it. Perhaps that is an omen. Let us do what Dr. Dayath suggests.

28:28"'And for the sake of His Royal Highness,' said Lord Saffield, "'can I ask that we all take a vow of silence "'and promise never to speak of tonight's unhappy events to a living soul?' "'Around the table we murmured our assent. "'Thank you,' said the Lord in waiting. "'There will be publicity,' said Bram Stoker, "'even if it does not touch the palace. "'Her death will not go unnoticed. "'She was the principal boy in the Drury Lane Pantomime, after all.' I think not, said Oscar. At best, I think she was her understudy. He looked over to the body one more time. She is beautiful and she is an actress, but she is not Miss Ida Turner.

29:15But I met her at Drury Lane, protested the prince, in her dressing room. Just the once, said Oscar gently. And she was in her principal boy's costume then, as you acknowledge when you told us of your first encounter. This young lady was an imposter. As Lady R pointed out, she was too well endowed to be a convincing principal boy, and she arrived here at the palace just after ten o 'clock, dressed as a fairy-tale princess, when the real Ida Turner was still on stage at Rory Lane, dressed as a principal boy, and taking her bows. Who is she, then? asked Bram Stoker. Either Turner's understudy, or her dresser, I imagine, said Oscar.

30:05She intercepted His Royal Highness's note, inviting Miss Turner to join him for this impromptu Christmas supper, and decided to substitute herself for her mistress. When she got here, dressed in a costume from the Drury Lane wardrobe, the prince gave her a beautiful necklace to wear, and she played her part to perfection, until she heard Lady Rogerson remarking that she did not look like a convincing principal boy, and until she caught my eye. She saw at once that I knew she was an imposter. And facing the possibility of exposure, suggested Bram, finishing Oscar's thought, she took her own life as her only means of escape.

30:49I knew it, said the Countess, with an unattractive air of triumph. She was a gold digger, and she's paid the price. You'd better retrieve your mother's precious necklace from her throat, Bertie. I shall return it to the palace in the morning, said Dr. Death, straightening the poor dead girl's arms and legs, and wrapping her body in the rug on which she had fallen, so that only her face and hair could be seen. With a gentle touch, she closed the actress's eyes. The Prince of Wales rang the bell to summon the footman. He explained that one of the guests had suffered a stroke of some kind, and that Dr.

31:27Dayeth would accompany the unfortunate lady, who is now sleeping, to St. Thomas's Hospital nearby. Oscar volunteered that he and I accompany Dr. Dayeth and her patient and take the carriage that Oscar had kept waiting in the palace forecourt. We nodded brief farewells to our fellow guests. We bowed to the prince at the door of the yellow dining room. We followed the footman and Dr. Death as they made their way along the darkened corridors of the palace, down the stairway and out into the palace courtyard. The footman laid the girl wrapped in the rug across the back seat of the carriage, and Oscar and I sat alongside Dr.

32:05Death, facing her. The prince's page waved us on our way. Merry Christmas, he said solemnly. "'Merry Christmas,' answered Oscar, smiling. "'Please thank His Royal Highness for a most memorable evening.' Light snow was still falling as our carriage trundled along the Mall and down Whitehall towards Westminster Bridge. As we approached the Victorian embankment, Oscar began to chuckle, softly at first, and then more loudly and louder still. He pulled down the carriage window and called up to the cabbie, Pull over, driver. Two of us will get out here. Thank you, said Dr. Death. I'll handle matters at the hospital.

32:48The porters there can help me with the body. No, said Oscar. You're not going to the hospital. You never were. Whether you are medically qualified, Dr. Death, I neither know nor care. But tonight's little pantomime is over now. He turned his head and looked directly into the young woman's eyes. I must congratulate you. You and your beautiful young partner in crime almost got away with it. First, with great charm and even greater effrontery, calling yourself Dr. Death, what a nerve, you wheedled your way into royal service, and then this young lady— Oscar pulled the edges of the rug from the young actress's face, whoever she may be, she sees the moment to beguile a prince who is, let us be frank, all too ready to be beguiled.

33:38The dead young actress opened her eyes and gazed steadily at Oscar. Remove that necklace, young lady, he said, and give it to my friend, Dr. Conan Doyle. The girl did as she was told. I sat holding the gold and porcelain necklace and marvelling at the way in which Oscar had unraveled the mystery. Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius. Oscar had genius and heart. Dr. Doyle was taken in by both of you, he went on. So was the prince. So was our friend Bram Stoker. I must be less innocent than they are, because I had my suspicions about each of you from the start.

34:28I recognize a chancer when I see one, and you are two of the best. Of course, you overplayed your hand, as chancers so often do. That scream, miss, it was far too shrill, and that staged blood, there was far too much of it. Now, get out of our carriage and make yourselves guess. Oscar pushed open the cab door, and the two girls climbed down into the street. And one more thing, said Oscar, holding out his hand to Dr. Death, kindly give me those two Fabergé eggs you took from the table setting under cover of darkness. They don't belong to you. You don't need them. You have youth, beauty, and spirit on your side.

35:13You can make your own way in the world. The dark-haired young woman opened her evening bag and took out two diamond-encrusted enamel eggs and handed them to Oscar. Thank you, he said. And here's a silver sovereign for you to share. He dropped the coin into the young woman's open bag. Go home now. Keen yourselves up and light a fire. Christmas is the time for home and half. Goodbye. As our carriage drove on over Westminster Bridge, the two girls stood speechless on the pavement gazing after us. You astound me, Oscar, I said. I'm glad to hear it, he replied, smiling. And now you have another story to tell, and Sherlock Holmes didn't feature in it anywhere.

36:03Merry Christmas, Arthur. Merry Christmas. And this is me adding my Merry Christmas to that of Arthur Conan Doyle and Oscar Wilde. That was Murder at the Palace. It's the first of our Rosebud murder mysteries. If you enjoy a murder mystery, well, there's going to be more next year for you. We're starting something a little bit special here at Rosebud. Well, what we're calling the Rosebud Family. It's really a kind of subscription service where people who want to listen to the regular Rosebud without ads can do so. But there will be extras as well. There's going to be me and Harriet going down memory lane once a month.

36:44There are going to be murder mysteries from me every other week. There's going to be our special chat room. There's going to be an opportunity for people who do subscribe to get first dibs at events we may be organizing. So I think it's going to be fun. It's not going to be free. It's going to be$4.99 a month, I think, to support it happening. But you do get ad free, and I hope you will enjoy it, and the extras as well. So this has just been a little taster of things to come. And if you do want to join the Rosebud family, you simply go to www.patreon.com forward slash rosebud. That's patreon, P-A-T-R-E-O-N dot com forward slash rosebud, one word.

37:26And you can find all the details there. Anyway, that's it for me. I'll be back soon with another extraordinary guest. Lots of exciting things to happen in 2026. Meanwhile, I hope you've enjoyed our company in 2025. We've certainly loved having you listening here. Bye for now.

38:10As you can see, we really are a Rosebud family. From all of us, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.