I picked this up at about 11:30 PM on a Tuesday. Rain was hitting the window—standard Oregon weather—and Shirley (the cat, not the author) was glaring at me from the top of the bookshelf because I hadn't refilled her bowl yet. I ignored her. I needed something atmospheric.
Here's the thing about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Everyone knows him for the guy in the deerstalker hat. If you want proof, Tales of Terror and Mystery leans even harder into that atmospheric horror side. But I've always argued on the podcast that his real strength isn't deduction—it's dread. And The Mystery of Cloomber? It's dripping with it.
So, I hit play. Lights off. Let's get weird.
Dolbier's One-Man Scottish Theater
Okay, let's talk about Delmar H. Dolbier. I'll be honest, I hadn't heard of him before this. (I know, I know, bad librarian). But within five minutes, I realized this guy isn't just reading a book; he's putting on a one-man theater production in a damp castle.
Dolbier goes hard on the Scottish dialects. And I mean hard. He rolls his Rs like he's trying to start an engine. For some people, this is going to be a dealbreaker. I've seen reviews complaining that it's hard to understand, and yeah, if you're listening at 2x speed while washing dishes, you might miss some dialogue.
But for me? I loved it. It adds this layer of texture that you just don't get with a "neutral" narrator. When he voices the locals, you feel the mud on their boots. He makes Cloomber Hall feel like a character itself. Gritty. Authentic. Respectful of the source material.
General Heatherstone's Slow Unraveling
The story centers on General Heatherstone, a guy who is basically a walking panic attack. He's paranoid, he's terrified of October 5th (specific, weird, love it), and he won't let his kids leave the house.
(Sounds like my childhood, actually. Maybe that's why I related.)
This is where Doyle shines. He builds psychological tension where you don't know if the threat is supernatural or just some past trauma coming back to bite the General. Dolbier captures Heatherstone's manic energy perfectly—you can hear the fraying edges of the man's sanity in the narrator's voice.
That said—let's be real—the pacing is Victorian. And by that, I mean it takes its sweet time. There are moments where the plot wanders off into the weeds. If you're used to modern thrillers where something explodes every four pages, you're going to be checking your watch. I found myself zoning out a bit in the middle chapters, thinking about whether I should buy more black candles for the apartment.
The Verdict
Look, this isn't The Haunting of Hill House. It's not going to keep you up all night terrified of the bent-neck lady. I got similar vibes from The Mystery of Mary—that slow-burn mystery energy where the atmosphere does half the work. But it is a solid, moody piece of Gothic mystery that shows a different side of Doyle.
Dolbier's performance elevates it from a dusty classic to something with a pulse. He commits to the bit. He does the voices. He brings the drama.
Who should listen: Gothic atmosphere junkies, Doyle completists, and anyone who wants to hear a narrator absolutely commit to Scottish dialect work. Who should skip: If Victorian pacing makes you twitchy or you need your mysteries solved before the second act, this one's not for you.
Shirley eventually fell asleep. I made it to the end. No regrets.
