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 nonetheless 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 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 jackknife
into the very center 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 queer humors,
would sit in an armchair 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
commonplace 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 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 aluminum crutch, as well as
a full account of Ricoletti of the clubfoot, 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 to 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 shorthanded 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 schoolmaster 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 housemaid; but he has thrown her over since
then and taken up with Janet Tregellis, the daughter of the head gamekeeper. 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 tomorrow."
"'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 armchair, 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 yours 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 linteled door, in the
center of this old part, is chiseled the date, 1607, but experts are agreed that
the beams and stonework 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 storehouse 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 you 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 dogcart, 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 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 center 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, brassbound 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 him 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 know 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 chink, 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 happened?
"What smoldering 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 sepulcher? 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 question 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 lusterless 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, as 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."