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Adventure V.
The Musgrave Ritual
An anomaly which often struck me in the
character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was
that, although in his methods of thought he
was the neatest and most methodical of
mankind, and although also he affected a
certain quiet primness of dress, he was
none the less in his personal habits one of
the most untidy men that ever drove a
fellow-lodger to distraction.
Not that I am in the least conventional in
that respect myself.
The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan,
coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism
of disposition, has made me rather more lax
than befits a medical man.
But with me there is a limit, and when I
find a man who keeps his cigars in the
coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of
a Persian slipper, and his unanswered
correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife
into the very centre of his wooden
mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself
virtuous airs.
I have always held, too, that pistol
practice should be distinctly an open-air
pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his
*** humors, would sit in an arm-chair
with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer
cartridges, and proceed to adorn the
opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done
in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that
neither the atmosphere nor the appearance
of our room was improved by it.
Our chambers were always full of chemicals
and of criminal relics which had a way of
wandering into unlikely positions, and of
turning up in the butter-dish or in even
less desirable places.
But his papers were my great crux.
He had a horror of destroying documents,
especially those which were connected with
his past cases, and yet it was only once in
every year or two that he would muster
energy to docket and arrange them; for, as
I have mentioned somewhere in these
incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of
passionate energy when he performed the
remarkable feats with which his name is
associated were followed by reactions of
lethargy during which he would lie about
with his violin and his books, hardly
moving save from the sofa to the table.
Thus month after month his papers
accumulated, until every corner of the room
was stacked with bundles of manuscript
which were on no account to be burned, and
which could not be put away save by their
owner.
One winter's night, as we sat together by
the fire, I ventured to suggest to him
that, as he had finished pasting extracts
into his common-place book, he might employ
the next two hours in making our room a
little more habitable.
He could not deny the justice of my
request, so with a rather rueful face he
went off to his bedroom, from which he
returned presently pulling a large tin box
behind him.
This he placed in the middle of the floor
and, squatting down upon a stool in front
of it, he threw back the lid.
I could see that it was already a third
full of bundles of paper tied up with red
tape into separate packages.
"There are cases enough here, Watson," said
he, looking at me with mischievous eyes.
"I think that if you knew all that I had in
this box you would ask me to pull some out
instead of putting others in."
"These are the records of your early work,
then?"
I asked.
"I have often wished that I had notes of
those cases."
"Yes, my boy, these were all done
prematurely before my biographer had come
to glorify me."
He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender,
caressing sort of way.
"They are not all successes, Watson," said
he.
"But there are some pretty little problems
among them.
Here's the record of the Tarleton murders,
and the case of Vamberry, the wine
merchant, and the adventure of the old
Russian woman, and the singular affair of
the aluminium crutch, as well as a full
account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and
his abominable wife.
And here--ah, now, this really is something
a little recherché."
He dived his arm down to the bottom of the
chest, and brought up a small wooden box
with a sliding lid, such as children's toys
are kept in.
From within he produced a crumpled piece of
paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg
of wood with a ball of string attached to
it, and three rusty old disks of metal.
"Well, my boy, what do you make of this
lot?" he asked, smiling at my expression.
"It is a curious collection."
"Very curious, and the story that hangs
round it will strike you as being more
curious still."
"These relics have a history then?"
"So much so that they are history."
"What do you mean by that?"
Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one,
and laid them along the edge of the table.
Then he reseated himself in his chair and
looked them over with a gleam of
satisfaction in his eyes.
"These," said he, "are all that I have left
to remind me of the adventure of the
Musgrave Ritual."
I had heard him mention the case more than
once, though I had never been able to
gather the details.
"I should be so glad," said I, "if you
would give me an account of it."
"And leave the litter as it is?" he cried,
mischievously.
"Your tidiness won't bear much strain after
all, Watson.
But I should be glad that you should add
this case to your annals, for there are
points in it which make it quite unique in
the criminal records of this or, I believe,
of any other country.
A collection of my trifling achievements
would certainly be incomplete which
contained no account of this very singular
business.
"You may remember how the affair of the
_Gloria Scott_, and my conversation with
the unhappy man whose fate I told you of,
first turned my attention in the direction
of the profession which has become my
life's work.
You see me now when my name has become
known far and wide, and when I am generally
recognized both by the public and by the
official force as being a final court of
appeal in doubtful cases.
Even when you knew me first, at the time of
the affair which you have commemorated in
'A Study in Scarlet,' I had already
established a considerable, though not a
very lucrative, connection.
You can hardly realize, then, how difficult
I found it at first, and how long I had to
wait before I succeeded in making any
headway.
"When I first came up to London I had rooms
in Montague Street, just round the corner
from the British Museum, and there I
waited, filling in my too abundant leisure
time by studying all those branches of
science which might make me more efficient.
Now and again cases came in my way,
principally through the introduction of old
fellow-students, for during my last years
at the University there was a good deal of
talk there about myself and my methods.
The third of these cases was that of the
Musgrave Ritual, and it is to the interest
which was aroused by that singular chain of
events, and the large issues which proved
to be at stake, that I trace my first
stride towards the position which I now
hold.
"Reginald Musgrave had been in the same
college as myself, and I had some slight
acquaintance with him.
He was not generally popular among the
undergraduates, though it always seemed to
me that what was set down as pride was
really an attempt to cover extreme natural
diffidence.
In appearance he was a man of exceedingly
aristocratic type, thin, high-nosed, and
large-eyed, with languid and yet courtly
manners.
He was indeed a scion of one of the very
oldest families in the kingdom, though his
branch was a cadet one which had separated
from the northern Musgraves some time in
the sixteenth century, and had established
itself in western Sussex, where the Manor
House of Hurlstone is perhaps the oldest
inhabited building in the county.
Something of his birth place seemed to
cling to the man, and I never looked at his
pale, keen face or the poise of his head
without associating him with gray archways
and mullioned windows and all the venerable
wreckage of a feudal keep.
Once or twice we drifted into talk, and I
can remember that more than once he
expressed a keen interest in my methods of
observation and inference.
"For four years I had seen nothing of him
until one morning he walked into my room in
Montague Street.
He had changed little, was dressed like a
young man of fashion--he was always a bit
of a dandy--and preserved the same quiet,
suave manner which had formerly
distinguished him.
"'How has all gone with you Musgrave?'
I asked, after we had cordially shaken
hands.
"'You probably heard of my poor father's
death,' said he; 'he was carried off about
two years ago.
Since then I have of course had the
Hurlstone estates to manage, and as I am
member for my district as well, my life has
been a busy one.
But I understand, Holmes, that you are
turning to practical ends those powers with
which you used to amaze us?'
"'Yes,' said I, 'I have taken to living by
my wits.'
"'I am delighted to hear it, for your
advice at present would be exceedingly
valuable to me.
We have had some very strange doings at
Hurlstone, and the police have been able to
throw no light upon the matter.
It is really the most extraordinary and
inexplicable business.'
"You can imagine with what eagerness I
listened to him, Watson, for the very
chance for which I had been panting during
all those months of inaction seemed to have
come within my reach.
In my inmost heart I believed that I could
succeed where others failed, and now I had
the opportunity to test myself.
"'Pray, let me have the details,' I cried.
"Reginald Musgrave sat down opposite to me,
and lit the cigarette which I had pushed
towards him.
"'You must know,' said he, 'that though I
am a bachelor, I have to keep up a
considerable staff of servants at
Hurlstone, for it is a rambling old place,
and takes a good deal of looking after.
I preserve, too, and in the pheasant months
I usually have a house-party, so that it
would not do to be short-handed.
Altogether there are eight maids, the cook,
the butler, two footmen, and a boy.
The garden and the stables of course have a
separate staff.
"'Of these servants the one who had been
longest in our service was Brunton the
butler.
He was a young school-master out of place
when he was first taken up by my father,
but he was a man of great energy and
character, and he soon became quite
invaluable in the household.
He was a well-grown, handsome man, with a
splendid forehead, and though he has been
with us for twenty years he cannot be more
than forty now.
With his personal advantages and his
extraordinary gifts--for he can speak
several languages and play nearly every
musical instrument--it is wonderful that he
should have been satisfied so long in such
a position, but I suppose that he was
comfortable, and lacked energy to make any
change.
The butler of Hurlstone is always a thing
that is remembered by all who visit us.
"'But this paragon has one fault.
He is a bit of a Don Juan, and you can
imagine that for a man like him it is not a
very difficult part to play in a quiet
country district.
When he was married it was all right, but
since he has been a widower we have had no
end of trouble with him.
A few months ago we were in hopes that he
was about to settle down again for he
became engaged to Rachel Howells, our
second house-maid; but he has thrown her
over since then and taken up with Janet
Tregellis, the daughter of the head game-
keeper.
Rachel--who is a very good girl, but of an
excitable Welsh temperament--had a sharp
touch of brain-fever, and goes about the
house now--or did until yesterday--like a
black-eyed shadow of her former self.
That was our first drama at Hurlstone; but
a second one came to drive it from our
minds, and it was prefaced by the disgrace
and dismissal of butler Brunton.
"'This was how it came about.
I have said that the man was intelligent,
and this very intelligence has caused his
ruin, for it seems to have led to an
insatiable curiosity about things which did
not in the least concern him.
I had no idea of the lengths to which this
would carry him, until the merest accident
opened my eyes to it.
"'I have said that the house is a rambling
one.
One day last week--on Thursday night, to be
more exact--I found that I could not sleep,
having foolishly taken a cup of strong café
noir after my dinner.
After struggling against it until two in
the morning, I felt that it was quite
hopeless, so I rose and lit the candle with
the intention of continuing a novel which I
was reading.
The book, however, had been left in the
billiard-room, so I pulled on my dressing-
gown and started off to get it.
"'In order to reach the billiard-room I had
to descend a flight of stairs and then to
cross the head of a passage which led to
the library and the gun-room.
You can imagine my surprise when, as I
looked down this corridor, I saw a glimmer
of light coming from the open door of the
library.
I had myself extinguished the lamp and
closed the door before coming to bed.
Naturally my first thought was of burglars.
The corridors at Hurlstone have their walls
largely decorated with trophies of old
weapons.
From one of these I picked a battle-axe,
and then, leaving my candle behind me, I
crept on tiptoe down the passage and peeped
in at the open door.
"'Brunton, the butler, was in the library.
He was sitting, fully dressed, in an easy-
chair, with a slip of paper which looked
like a map upon his knee, and his forehead
sunk forward upon his hand in deep thought.
I stood dumb with astonishment, watching
him from the darkness.
A small taper on the edge of the table shed
a feeble light which sufficed to show me
that he was fully dressed.
Suddenly, as I looked, he rose from his
chair, and walking over to a bureau at the
side, he unlocked it and drew out one of
the drawers.
From this he took a paper, and returning to
his seat he flattened it out beside the
taper on the edge of the table, and began
to study it with minute attention.
My indignation at this calm examination of
our family documents overcame me so far
that I took a step forward, and Brunton,
looking up, saw me standing in the doorway.
He sprang to his feet, his face turned
livid with fear, and he thrust into his
breast the chart-like paper which he had
been originally studying.
"'"So!" said I.
"This is how you repay the trust which we
have reposed in you.
You will leave my service to-morrow."
"'He bowed with the look of a man who is
utterly crushed, and slunk past me without
a word.
The taper was still on the table, and by
its light I glanced to see what the paper
was which Brunton had taken from the
bureau.
To my surprise it was nothing of any
importance at all, but simply a copy of the
questions and answers in the singular old
observance called the Musgrave Ritual.
It is a sort of ceremony peculiar to our
family, which each Musgrave for centuries
past has gone through on his coming of age-
-a thing of private interest, and perhaps
of some little importance to the
archaeologist, like our own blazonings and
charges, but of no practical use whatever.'
"'We had better come back to the paper
afterwards,' said I.
"'If you think it really necessary,' he
answered, with some hesitation.
'To continue my statement, however: I
relocked the bureau, using the key which
Brunton had left, and I had turned to go
when I was surprised to find that the
butler had returned, and was standing
before me.
"'"Mr. Musgrave, sir," he cried, in a voice
which was hoarse with emotion, "I can't
bear disgrace, sir.
I've always been proud above my station in
life, and disgrace would kill me.
My blood will be on your head, sir--it
will, indeed--if you drive me to despair.
If you cannot keep me after what has
passed, then for God's sake let me give you
notice and leave in a month, as if of my
own free will.
I could stand that, Mr. Musgrave, but not
to be cast out before all the folk that I
know so well."
"'"You don't deserve much consideration,
Brunton," I answered.
"Your conduct has been most infamous.
However, as you have been a long time in
the family, I have no wish to bring public
disgrace upon you.
A month, however is too long.
Take yourself away in a week, and give what
reason you like for going."
"'"Only a week, sir?" he cried, in a
despairing voice.
"A fortnight--say at least a fortnight!"
"'"A week," I repeated, "and you may
consider yourself to have been very
leniently dealt with."
"'He crept away, his face sunk upon his
breast, like a broken man, while I put out
the light and returned to my room.
"'"For two days after this Brunton was most
assiduous in his attention to his duties.
I made no allusion to what had passed, and
waited with some curiosity to see how he
would cover his disgrace.
On the third morning, however he did not
appear, as was his custom, after breakfast
to receive my instructions for the day.
As I left the dining-room I happened to
meet Rachel Howells, the maid.
I have told you that she had only recently
recovered from an illness, and was looking
so wretchedly pale and wan that I
remonstrated with her for being at work.
"'"You should be in bed," I said.
"Come back to your duties when you are
stronger."
"'She looked at me with so strange an
expression that I began to suspect that her
brain was affected.
"'"I am strong enough, Mr. Musgrave," said
she.
"'"We will see what the doctor says," I
answered.
"You must stop work now, and when you go
downstairs just say that I wish to see
Brunton."
"'"The butler is gone," said she.
"'"Gone!
Gone where?"
"'"He is gone.
No one has seen him.
He is not in his room.
Oh, yes, he is gone, he is gone!"
She fell back against the wall with shriek
after shriek of laughter, while I,
horrified at this sudden hysterical attack,
rushed to the bell to summon help.
The girl was taken to her room, still
screaming and sobbing, while I made
inquiries about Brunton.
There was no doubt about it that he had
disappeared.
His bed had not been slept in, he had been
seen by no one since he had retired to his
room the night before, and yet it was
difficult to see how he could have left the
house, as both windows and doors were found
to be fastened in the morning.
His clothes, his watch, and even his money
were in his room, but the black suit which
he usually wore was missing.
His slippers, too, were gone, but his boots
were left behind.
Where then could butler Brunton have gone
in the night, and what could have become of
him now?
"'Of course we searched the house from
cellar to garret, but there was no trace of
him.
It is, as I have said, a labyrinth of an
old house, especially the original wing,
which is now practically uninhabited; but
we ransacked every room and cellar without
discovering the least sign of the missing
man.
It was incredible to me that he could have
gone away leaving all his property behind
him, and yet where could he be?
I called in the local police, but without
success.
Rain had fallen on the night before and we
examined the lawn and the paths all round
the house, but in vain.
Matters were in this state, when a new
development quite drew our attention away
from the original mystery.
"'For two days Rachel Howells had been so
ill, sometimes delirious, sometimes
hysterical, that a nurse had been employed
to sit up with her at night.
On the third night after Brunton's
disappearance, the nurse, finding her
patient sleeping nicely, had dropped into a
nap in the arm-chair, when she woke in the
early morning to find the bed empty, the
window open, and no signs of the invalid.
I was instantly aroused, and, with the two
footmen, started off at once in search of
the missing girl.
It was not difficult to tell the direction
which she had taken, for, starting from
under her window, we could follow her
footmarks easily across the lawn to the
edge of the mere, where they vanished close
to the gravel path which leads out of the
grounds.
The lake there is eight feet deep, and you
can imagine our feelings when we saw that
the trail of the poor demented girl came to
an end at the edge of it.
"'Of course, we had the drags at once, and
set to work to recover the remains, but no
trace of the body could we find.
On the other hand, we brought to the
surface an object of a most unexpected
kind.
It was a linen bag which contained within
it a mass of old rusted and discolored
metal and several dull-colored pieces of
pebble or glass.
This strange find was all that we could get
from the mere, and, although we made every
possible search and inquiry yesterday, we
know nothing of the fate either of Rachel
Howells or of Richard Brunton.
The county police are at their wits' end,
and I have come up to you as a last
resource.'
"You can imagine, Watson, with what
eagerness I listened to this extraordinary
sequence of events, and endeavored to piece
them together, and to devise some common
thread upon which they might all hang.
The butler was gone.
The maid was gone.
The maid had loved the butler, but had
afterwards had cause to hate him.
She was of Welsh blood, fiery and
passionate.
She had been terribly excited immediately
after his disappearance.
She had flung into the lake a bag
containing some curious contents.
These were all factors which had to be
taken into consideration, and yet none of
them got quite to the heart of the matter.
What was the starting-point of this chain
of events?
There lay the end of this tangled line.
"'I must see that paper, Musgrave,' said I,
'which this butler of your thought it worth
his while to consult, even at the risk of
the loss of his place.'
"'It is rather an absurd business, this
ritual of ours,' he answered.
'But it has at least the saving grace of
antiquity to excuse it.
I have a copy of the questions and answers
here if you care to run your eye over
them.'
"He handed me the very paper which I have
here, Watson, and this is the strange
catechism to which each Musgrave had to
submit when he came to man's estate.
I will read you the questions and answers
as they stand.
"'Whose was it?'
"'His who is gone.'
"'Who shall have it?'
"'He who will come.'
"'Where was the sun?'
"'Over the oak.'
"'Where was the shadow?'
"'Under the elm.'
"How was it stepped?'
"'North by ten and by ten, east by five and
by five, south by two and by two, west by
one and by one, and so under.'
"'What shall we give for it?'
"'All that is ours.'
"'Why should we give it?'
"'For the sake of the trust.'
"'The original has no date, but is in the
spelling of the middle of the seventeenth
century,' remarked Musgrave.
'I am afraid, however, that it can be of
little help to you in solving this
mystery.'
"'At least,' said I, 'it gives us another
mystery, and one which is even more
interesting than the first.
It may be that the solution of the one may
prove to be the solution of the other.
You will excuse me, Musgrave, if I say that
your butler appears to me to have been a
very clever man, and to have had a clearer
insight than ten generations of his
masters.'
"'I hardly follow you,' said Musgrave.
'The paper seems to me to be of no
practical importance.'
"'But to me it seems immensely practical,
and I fancy that Brunton took the same
view.
He had probably seen it before that night
on which you caught him.'
"'It is very possible.
We took no pains to hide it.'
"'He simply wished, I should imagine, to
refresh his memory upon that last occasion.
He had, as I understand, some sort of map
or chart which he was comparing with the
manuscript, and which he thrust into his
pocket when you appeared.'
"'That is true.
But what could he have to do with this old
family custom of ours, and what does this
rigmarole mean?'
"'I don't think that we should have much
difficulty in determining that,' said I;
'with your permission we will take the
first train down to Sussex, and go a little
more deeply into the matter upon the spot.'
"The same afternoon saw us both at
Hurlstone.
Possibly you have seen pictures and read
descriptions of the famous old building, so
I will confine my account of it to saying
that it is built in the shape of an L, the
long arm being the more modern portion, and
the shorter the ancient nucleus, from which
the other had developed.
Over the low, heavily-lintelled door, in
the centre of this old part, is chiseled
the date, 1607, but experts are agreed that
the beams and stone-work are really much
older than this.
The enormously thick walls and tiny windows
of this part had in the last century driven
the family into building the new wing, and
the old one was used now as a store-house
and a cellar, when it was used at all.
A splendid park with fine old timber
surrounds the house, and the lake, to which
my client had referred, lay close to the
avenue, about two hundred yards from the
building.
"I was already firmly convinced, Watson,
that there were not three separate
mysteries here, but one only, and that if I
could read the Musgrave Ritual aright I
should hold in my hand the clue which would
lead me to the truth concerning both the
butler Brunton and the maid Howells.
To that then I turned all my energies.
Why should this servant be so anxious to
master this old formula?
Evidently because he saw something in it
which had escaped all those generations of
country squires, and from which he expected
some personal advantage.
What was it then, and how had it affected
his fate?
"It was perfectly obvious to me, on reading
the ritual, that the measurements must
refer to some spot to which the rest of the
document alluded, and that if we could find
that spot, we should be in a fair way
towards finding what the secret was which
the old Musgraves had thought it necessary
to embalm in so curious a fashion.
There were two guides given us to start
with, an oak and an elm.
As to the oak there could be no question at
all.
Right in front of the house, upon the left-
hand side of the drive, there stood a
patriarch among oaks, one of the most
magnificent trees that I have ever seen.
"'That was there when your ritual was drawn
up,' said I, as we drove past it.
"'It was there at the Norman Conquest in
all probability,' he answered.
'It has a girth of twenty-three feet.'
"'Have you any old elms?'
I asked.
"'There used to be a very old one over
yonder but it was struck by lightning ten
years ago, and we cut down the stump.'
"'You can see where it used to be?'
"'Oh, yes.'
"'There are no other elms?'
"'No old ones, but plenty of beeches.'
"'I should like to see where it grew.'
"We had driven up in a dog-cart, and my
client led me away at once, without our
entering the house, to the scar on the lawn
where the elm had stood.
It was nearly midway between the oak and
the house.
My investigation seemed to be progressing.
"'I suppose it is impossible to find out
how high the elm was?'
I asked.
"'I can give you it at once.
It was sixty-four feet.'
"'How do you come to know it?'
I asked, in surprise.
"'When my old tutor used to give me an
exercise in trigonometry, it always took
the shape of measuring heights.
When I was a lad I worked out every tree
and building in the estate.'
"This was an unexpected piece of luck.
My data were coming more quickly than I
could have reasonably hoped.
"'Tell me,' I asked, 'did your butler ever
ask you such a question?'
"Reginald Musgrave looked at me in
astonishment.
'Now that you call it to my mind,' he
answered, 'Brunton did ask me about the
height of the tree some months ago, in
connection with some little argument with
the groom.'
"This was excellent news, Watson, for it
showed me that I was on the right road.
I looked up at the sun.
It was low in the heavens, and I calculated
that in less than an hour it would lie just
above the topmost branches of the old oak.
One condition mentioned in the Ritual would
then be fulfilled.
And the shadow of the elm must mean the
farther end of the shadow, otherwise the
trunk would have been chosen as the guide.
I had, then, to find where the far end of
the shadow would fall when the sun was just
clear of the oak."
"That must have been difficult, Holmes,
when the elm was no longer there."
"Well, at least I knew that if Brunton
could do it, I could also.
Besides, there was no real difficulty.
I went with Musgrave to his study and
whittled myself this peg, to which I tied
this long string with a knot at each yard.
Then I took two lengths of a fishing-rod,
which came to just six feet, and I went
back with my client to where the elm had
been.
The sun was just grazing the top of the
oak.
I fastened the rod on end, marked out the
direction of the shadow, and measured it.
It was nine feet in length.
"Of course the calculation now was a simple
one.
If a rod of six feet threw a shadow of
nine, a tree of sixty-four feet would throw
one of ninety-six, and the line of the one
would of course be the line of the other.
I measured out the distance, which brought
me almost to the wall of the house, and I
thrust a peg into the spot.
You can imagine my exultation, Watson, when
within two inches of my peg I saw a conical
depression in the ground.
I knew that it was the mark made by Brunton
in his measurements, and that I was still
upon his trail.
"From this starting-point I proceeded to
step, having first taken the cardinal
points by my pocket-compass.
Ten steps with each foot took me along
parallel with the wall of the house, and
again I marked my spot with a peg.
Then I carefully paced off five to the east
and two to the south.
It brought me to the very threshold of the
old door.
Two steps to the west meant now that I was
to go two paces down the stone-flagged
passage, and this was the place indicated
by the Ritual.
"Never have I felt such a cold chill of
disappointment, Watson.
For a moment is seemed to me that there
must be some radical mistake in my
calculations.
The setting sun shone full upon the passage
floor, and I could see that the old, foot-
worn gray stones with which it was paved
were firmly cemented together, and had
certainly not been moved for many a long
year.
Brunton had not been at work here.
I tapped upon the floor, but it sounded the
same all over, and there was no sign of any
crack or crevice.
But, fortunately, Musgrave, who had begun
to appreciate the meaning of my
proceedings, and who was now as excited as
myself, took out his manuscript to check my
calculation.
"'And under,' he cried.
'You have omitted the "and under."'
"I had thought that it meant that we were
to dig, but now, of course, I saw at once
that I was wrong.
'There is a cellar under this then?'
I cried.
"'Yes, and as old as the house.
Down here, through this door.'
"We went down a winding stone stair, and my
companion, striking a match, lit a large
lantern which stood on a barrel in the
corner.
In an instant it was obvious that we had at
last come upon the true place, and that we
had not been the only people to visit the
spot recently.
"It had been used for the storage of wood,
but the billets, which had evidently been
littered over the floor, were now piled at
the sides, so as to leave a clear space in
the middle.
In this space lay a large and heavy
flagstone with a rusted iron ring in the
centre to which a thick shepherd's-check
muffler was attached.
"'By Jove!' cried my client.
'That's Brunton's muffler.
I have seen it on him, and could swear to
it.
What has the villain been doing here?'
"At my suggestion a couple of the county
police were summoned to be present, and I
then endeavored to raise the stone by
pulling on the cravat.
I could only move it slightly, and it was
with the aid of one of the constables that
I succeeded at last in carrying it to one
side.
A black hole yawned beneath into which we
all peered, while Musgrave, kneeling at the
side, pushed down the lantern.
"A small chamber about seven feet deep and
four feet square lay open to us.
At one side of this was a squat, brass-
bound wooden box, the lid of which was
hinged upwards, with this curious old-
fashioned key projecting from the lock.
It was furred outside by a thick layer of
dust, and damp and worms had eaten through
the wood, so that a crop of livid fungi was
growing on the inside of it.
Several discs of metal, old coins
apparently, such as I hold here, were
scattered over the bottom of the box, but
it contained nothing else.
"At the moment, however, we had no thought
for the old chest, for our eyes were
riveted upon that which crouched beside it.
It was the figure of a man, clad in a suit
of black, who squatted down upon his hams
with his forehead sunk upon the edge of the
box and his two arms thrown out on each
side of it.
The attitude had drawn all the stagnant
blood to the face, and no man could have
recognized that distorted liver-colored
countenance; but his height, his dress, and
his hair were all sufficient to show my
client, when we had drawn the body up, that
it was indeed his missing butler.
He had been dead some days, but there was
no wound or bruise upon his person to show
how he had met his dreadful end.
When his body had been carried from the
cellar we found ourselves still confronted
with a problem which was almost as
formidable as that with which we had
started.
"I confess that so far, Watson, I had been
disappointed in my investigation.
I had reckoned upon solving the matter when
once I had found the place referred to in
the Ritual; but now I was there, and was
apparently as far as ever from knowing what
it was which the family had concealed with
such elaborate precautions.
It is true that I had thrown a light upon
the fate of Brunton, but now I had to
ascertain how that fate had come upon him,
and what part had been played in the matter
by the woman who had disappeared.
I sat down upon a keg in the corner and
thought the whole matter carefully over.
"You know my methods in such cases, Watson.
I put myself in the man's place and, having
first gauged his intelligence, I try to
imagine how I should myself have proceeded
under the same circumstances.
In this case the matter was simplified by
Brunton's intelligence being quite first-
rate, so that it was unnecessary to make
any allowance for the personal equation, as
the astronomers have dubbed it.
He knew that something valuable was
concealed.
He had spotted the place.
He found that the stone which covered it
was just too heavy for a man to move
unaided.
What would he do next?
He could not get help from outside, even if
he had some one whom he could trust,
without the unbarring of doors and
considerable risk of detection.
It was better, if he could, to have his
helpmate inside the house.
But whom could he ask?
This girl had been devoted to him.
A man always finds it hard to realize that
he may have finally lost a woman's love,
however badly he may have treated her.
He would try by a few attentions to make
his peace with the girl Howells, and then
would engage her as his accomplice.
Together they would come at night to the
cellar, and their united force would
suffice to raise the stone.
So far I could follow their actions as if I
had actually seen them.
"But for two of them, and one a woman, it
must have been heavy work the raising of
that stone.
A burly Sussex policeman and I had found it
no light job.
What would they do to assist them?
Probably what I should have done myself.
I rose and examined carefully the different
billets of wood which were scattered round
the floor.
Almost at once I came upon what I expected.
One piece, about three feet in length, had
a very marked indentation at one end, while
several were flattened at the sides as if
they had been compressed by some
considerable weight.
Evidently, as they had dragged the stone up
they had thrust the chunks of wood into the
***, until at last, when the opening was
large enough to crawl through, they would
hold it open by a billet placed lengthwise,
which might very well become indented at
the lower end, since the whole weight of
the stone would press it down on to the
edge of this other slab.
So far I was still on safe ground.
"And now how was I to proceed to
reconstruct this midnight drama?
Clearly, only one could fit into the hole,
and that one was Brunton.
The girl must have waited above.
Brunton then unlocked the box, handed up
the contents presumably--since they were
not to be found--and then--and then what
"What smouldering fire of vengeance had
suddenly sprung into flame in this
passionate Celtic woman's soul when she saw
the man who had wronged her--wronged her,
perhaps, far more than we suspected--in her
power?
Was it a chance that the wood had slipped,
and that the stone had shut Brunton into
what had become his sepulchre?
Had she only been guilty of silence as to
his fate?
Or had some sudden blow from her hand
dashed the support away and sent the slab
crashing down into its place?
Be that as it might, I seemed to see that
woman's figure still clutching at her
treasure trove and flying wildly up the
winding stair, with her ears ringing
perhaps with the muffled screams from
behind her and with the drumming of
frenzied hands against the slab of stone
which was choking her faithless lover's
life out.
"Here was the secret of her blanched face,
her shaken nerves, her peals of hysterical
laughter on the next morning.
But what had been in the box?
What had she done with that?
Of course, it must have been the old metal
and pebbles which my client had dragged
from the mere.
She had thrown them in there at the first
opportunity to remove the last trace of her
crime.
"For twenty minutes I had sat motionless,
thinking the matter out.
Musgrave still stood with a very pale face,
swinging his lantern and peering down into
the hole.
"'These are coins of Charles the First,'
said he, holding out the few which had been
in the box; 'you see we were right in
fixing our date for the Ritual.'
"'We may find something else of Charles the
First,' I cried, as the probable meaning of
the first two questions of the Ritual broke
suddenly upon me.
'Let me see the contents of the bag which
you fished from the mere.'
"We ascended to his study, and he laid the
debris before me.
I could understand his regarding it as of
small importance when I looked at it, for
the metal was almost black and the stones
lustreless and dull.
I rubbed one of them on my sleeve, however,
and it glowed afterwards like a spark in
the dark hollow of my hand.
The metal work was in the form of a double
ring, but it had been bent and twisted out
of its original shape.
"'You must bear in mind,' said I, 'that the
royal party made head in England even after
the death of the king, and that when they
at last fled they probably left many of
their most precious possessions buried
behind them, with the intention of
returning for them in more peaceful times.'
"'My ancestor, Sir Ralph Musgrave, was a
prominent Cavalier and the right-hand man
of Charles the Second in his wanderings,'
said my friend.
"'Ah, indeed!'
I answered.
'Well now, I think that really should give
us the last link that we wanted.
I must congratulate you on coming into the
possession, though in rather a tragic
manner of a relic which is of great
intrinsic value, but of even greater
importance as an historical curiosity.'
"'What is it, then?' he gasped in
astonishment.
"'It is nothing less than the ancient crown
of the kings of England.'
"'The crown!'
"'Precisely.
Consider what the Ritual says: How does it
run?
"Whose was it?"
"His who is gone."
That was after the execution of Charles.
Then, "Who shall have it?"
"He who will come."
That was Charles the Second, whose advent
was already foreseen.
There can, I think, be no doubt that this
battered and shapeless diadem once
encircled the brows of the royal Stuarts.'
"'And how came it in the pond?'
"'Ah, that is a question that will take
some time to answer.'
And with that I sketched out to him the
whole long chain of surmise and of proof
which I had constructed.
The twilight had closed in and the moon was
shining brightly in the sky before my
narrative was finished.
"'And how was it then that Charles did not
get his crown when he returned?' asked
Musgrave, pushing back the relic into its
linen bag.
"'Ah, there you lay your finger upon the
one point which we shall probably never be
able to clear up.
It is likely that the Musgrave who held the
secret died in the interval, and by some
oversight left this guide to his descendant
without explaining the meaning of it.
From that day to this it has been handed
down from father to son, until at last it
came within reach of a man who tore its
secret out of it and lost his life in the
venture.'
"And that's the story of the Musgrave
Ritual, Watson.
They have the crown down at Hurlstone--
though they had some legal bother and a
considerable sum to pay before they were
allowed to retain it.
I am sure that if you mentioned my name
they would be happy to show it to you.
Of the woman nothing was ever heard, and
the probability is that she got away out of
England and carried herself and the memory
of her crime to some land beyond the seas."