All language subtitles for S03E03 The Second Stain

Plenty there.

Rough shooting.

Perhaps a little fishing.

And the best cook in the county of
Sussex.

Home.

And Reginald Musgraves.

Very good. Fine, and one of the oldest
families in England. He's in the same

college as myself.

He was not generally popular among the
undergraduates, but it always seemed to

me that what was set down as pride was
really...

A cover for extreme natural diffidence.

Indeed, I never think of his pale, lean
face and the poise of his head without

associating him with grey archways,
mullioned windows, and all the venerable

wreckage of a feudal king.

Well, if you feel so uncharitable, why
do you accept his invitation?

To escape my lethargy.

And your constant bullying to tidy our
room in Bacon Street.

Hardly constant.

Sir! I have decided to devote my weekend
to the collating of some of my early

work.

Your early work? Yes, before my
biographer came to glorify me. Do you

have records of your early work?

Not all successes, but some pretty
little problems.

A record of the Tarleton murders, the
case of Vanbury, the wine merchant, the

adventure of the old Russian woman, a
whole account of Ritaletti, of the Dove

person, of the... And the singular
affair of the aluminium crutch.

Aluminium crutch?

Well, that was something a little
recherchy.

I wish I had notes of these papers.

Yes, my boy.

Well, it may hold my interest for a few
hours while you potter with our host

through the antiquities of the bygone
age.

house interested.

The house is freezing, Watson.

With history.

The people in... On your previous visit,
I remember you telling me that

you enjoyed some lively conversations
with a butler.

What's his name? Brunston? Oh, Brunston.

A young schoolteacher out of Wales.

Did he not, um... Did he not speak
several languages?

He played nearly every musical
instrument.

A man of considerably more intellectual
ability than his master.

Watson, we must behave ourselves.

Ah.

Watson.

Mr. Holmes, a pleasure to see you again.
My friend and colleague, Dr. Watson.

Welcome to Holmes, sir.

My friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. So
glad.

It's a long time. Yes.

How has all gone with you?

Oh, busy, busy.

Since my father died, I've had the
estates to manage. And as I'm now a

parliament of the district as well.

But you, you, I have noted, are still
turning to practical ends. Those powers

with which you used to amaze us are
calling. Yes, I'm still living by my

And how is the dear wife?

I'm not married, Holmes.

How wise.

And the windows date from 1596.

The manor is thought to be the oldest
inhabited building in the country.

I once knew some northern Musgraves.
They did come from the north originally.

A cadet branch of the family broke away
from the northern Musgraves and came to

West Sussex in the early 17th century.

Ah.

More brandy, sir? No, Branton.

So that's how the story goes. I'm not
going to vouch for it, of course. But

commission is over here.

Signed by Prince Rupert.

It's for my ancestor, Ralph Musgrave.
Yes, to join his cavalry troop at Edge

Hill.

Rupert Thiel and commission host.

Astonishing.

One of the boots worn that day.

Oh. If I may be so bold, sir.

The boot was worn by his brother, Sir
Roland Musgrave at Naseby.

That was indeed.

If my butler was once a schoolmaster, I
must bow to his scholarship over mine in

matters of my own family's history.

No, no, never mind. You may leave us
now.

Where is Rachel tonight?

She has a slight distemper, sir. I told
her to go to her room.

Good night, gentlemen.

Holmes has told me of Brunton's
extraordinary gift. I remember my last

visit. He spent several hours explaining
to me in French.

The origins of the...

It is wonderful that he should have been
satisfied for so long with such a

position.

But I suppose he's been comfortable and
lacked the energy to make a change.

Oh, yes, indeed.

The butler of Hurlstone.

It's always a thing that is remembered
by all who visit us. Oh, dear master.

However, this paragon does have one
fault.

A bit of a Don Juan.

It's not a difficult part to play in a
quiet country district.

When he was married, he was all right,
but since he's become a widower, we've

had no end of trouble with him.

A few months ago, we were in hopes he
was about to settle down again.

He became engaged to Rachel Howells, my
second housemate, but he's thrown her

over, taken up with Janet Tregalis, my
gamekeeper's daughter.

Rachel's a very good girl, but she is of
an excitable Welsh temperament.

Now she wanders around like a black eyed
shadow thoroughly unsettling the

household Rachel

Good morning, Holmes.

Sir Reginald?

Shh.

Where's Brunton this morning?

It's all right. It's all right. Nothing.

It's all right.

The girl is fainting, Watson.

My dear young woman.

You should not be at work. You should be
in bed.

You may leave your duties, Rachel.

Come back when you're feeling stronger.

I am strong enough, sir. I'll be the
judge of that. You must go to your room.

No. Lie down.

And on your way.

Tell Brunton that I wish to see him.

The butler's gone.

Gone?

Gone where?

He's gone.

He's not in his room now, no. No -one's
seen him.

Oh, yes, yes.

He's gone.

He's not been stepped in. Have you
searched the house?

Oh, from cellar to garage. The girl was
right. There's no trace of him. He's

gone. Difficult to see how a man could
have left.

I mean, the windows and doors are all
fastened.

And what man goes away in the middle of
the night and leaves all his possessions

behind? Money?

What?

Oh, I've given the girl's mummy to calm
her down, and I've taken the liberty of

sending for a local nurse. She's in a
most unusual nervous state, and should

no account be left alone for a while.
This is the girl who was engaged to

Brunton? Rachel Howells, yes, yes. A
girl with a fiery Welsh temper.

Oh, Watson.

Well, gentlemen, look, I have no
intention that this small domestic

should ruin your weekend. I propose we
continue our plans for a shoot.

And we'll return, hopefully, to some
simple explanation.

Holmes, I was telling Watson something
happened last night which may throw some

light on this matter.

This is very embarrassing, but I... I
find I need your advice.

I couldn't sleep after foolishly taking
that cup of café noir after dinner. And

about two o 'clock, I gave up the
struggle.

I came downstairs to fetch a novel I'm
reading which I'd left in the library.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when I
saw a glimmer of light coming from the

open door.

I remembered I'd extinguished the lamp
and closed the door when we retired.

Naturally, my first thought was a
burglar's.

So, this is how you repay my trust.

Prying into my family document.

You will leave my service tomorrow.

Mr. Musgrave, sir, I can't bear
disgrace.

I've always been proud of 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.

What?

If you cannot keep me after this, and
for God's sake, let me give you notice

leave in a month, as of my own free
will.

A month is too long.

I could stand that, Mr Musgrave, but not
to be cast out before all the folk I

know so well.

You don't deserve consideration,
Brunton.

Your contact has been infamous.

However, I've no wish to bring public
disgrace upon you.

You take yourself away in a week and you
give whatever reason you like.

A week, sir?

Only a week.

A fortnight.

Say, at least a fortnight.

No, a week.

And you may consider yourself to have
been very leniently dealt with.

But what is strange is that he seemed
most anxious to stay.

Well, it's quite plain to me what
happened.

He went back to his room, thought it
over, decided to stay to his

there and then, cleverly.

Possibly with the help of his new woman
friend, Janet.

No, no, she lives with her father on the
other side of the lake.

And besides, I doubt if she'd have the
wit to help him.

This piece of paper, which Brunton
thought worth his while to consult, even

the risk of losing his job.

It's nothing.

It's nothing of any importance at all.

Nevertheless...

It's simply a copy of the singular old
observance called the Musgrave Ritual.

A ceremony peculiar to our family, which
each Musgrave has to go through on his

coming of age.

It's a strange catechism.

Undated, but written in the style of the
middle of the 17th century. Would you

and Watson be good enough to read it out
to me?

Doctor, I know it by heart.

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 set?

West eight by eight, south seven by
seven, west six by six,

south five by five, and two by two, and
so under.

What shall we give for it?

All that is ours.

Why should we give it?

For the sake of the trough.

It's a treasure hunt.

Oh, no, no. I remember as children we
often tried to solve it. It leads

Could Brunton have seen this before last
night?

It's possible.

We took no pains to hide it.

But what could he want with it?

Obviously, he was refreshing his memory.

You say that he had some map or chart
which he thrust back into his pocket the

moment you appeared.

That's what it looked like.

Yes, we must re -examine this ritual.

The measurements obviously refer to some
exact spot to which the rest of the

document alludes.

You're given two guides.

Yes, an elm and an oak.

And gentlemen, there is a patriarch
among oaks.

Certainly the oldest oak on the estate.

This tree must have been here at the
time of the Norman conquest.

In all probability, but I tell you, it
can't be the oak referred to, Holmes.

Generations of musgraves have attempted
to solve it. They've dug up half this

field.

You're right, Musgrave. This is not the
oak preferred to in the ritual.

Are there any other large oaks in the
immediate vicinity?

Not within a mile of the house.

Where would this be?

Over the oak.

We could make nothing of it today, old
man. The weather's turned.

Morning, sir. Morning.

It's eight foot deep here.

Poor demented girl.

We must live in hope, old man. There'll
be no body found yet.

Nothing so far, sir.

We just about covered all of it.

What did it contain?

Nothing of value.

Could have been thrown in by anyone at
any time. No, recently, or the water

would have rotted the bag.

The maid, last night.

Well, it would explain her journey to
the mere, but then... Where did she go?

There's nothing here, Holmes.

It's just a matter of rusted and
discolored metal and some pebbles.

And where is Brunton?

Oh, Rachel, why should anybody bother to
throw this into the lake?

I'm convinced that there are not three
mysteries here, but only one.

And the solution of one may prove the
solutions of the others.

Edward de Brunton saw something in this
which escaped your forebears, Musgrave,

from which he expected some personal
advantage. If I can read it of right, I

hold in my hand the clue to the truth
concerning both the butler Brunton and

maid Howells.

Where was the thumb over the oak? Where
was the shadow under the elm?

So this is where it grew?

Yes.

I suppose it's impossible to tell me how
high it was.

Oh, I can give you that at once.

It was 64 feet.

It's my old tutor. He used to give me
lessons in trigonometry. When I was a

I used to know the height of every tree
and building on this estate.

I am grateful to your tutor.

Tell me, did Brunton ever ask you such a
question?

Here, on this lawn?

Now that you call it to my mind...

Brunton?

What are you doing here?

Enjoying the evening, sir.

This is my private lawn.

You pardon me for asking, sir.

The elm that once stood here, that was
struck by lightning.

You wouldn't remember the height of it,
would you, sir?

Well, why should you want to know that?

Well, I'm arguing with Mr. Tregalis
about it.

I say it was 50 feet. He puts it higher.

We have a small wager on it.

Oh, well, you've lost your wager,
Brunton.

It was 64 feet.

Ah, was it?

I shall just have to be a good sport and
pay up then.

Thank you, sir.

Good Lord.

Now we must find where the shadow of the
elm would have fallen when the sun is

just cleared of that.

Well, that'll be a difficult home since
the elm is no longer there.

Well, now, come, Watson. If Brunton can
do it, then so can we.

The answer lies in trigonometry.

Musgrave, I need all the fishing rods
that you have in the hole.

Oh. Yes?

I, um... I don't quite follow this.

Ah, splendid.

What, babe?

Every rod in the house.

Measuring thick, please, Watson.

Would you hold that for me, Marcus
Grace, please?

And round.

Now, will you take the last yard of the
string and tie it to the base of the

fishing rod, Watson?

Yes. When you've done that, would you
bring the ritual and join me on the

Would you measure that shadow, please,
Watson?

Nine feet.

So the calculation is now a simple one.
If a fishing rod of six feet throws a

shadow of nine feet, then a tree of 64
feet would throw one of... 98.

96.

Yes, of course.

And the line of one, of course, would be
the line of the other.

What's the look? Two inches from mine. A
mark made by Brunton.

Now, read out the steps.

West, eight by eight.

49 West.

6 by 6.

36 and stop.

5 by 5.

Two by two.

One, two, three.

I don't believe it.

I'm not taking your calculations.

That's impossible.

Brunton hasn't been here.

Two by two and so under.

These stones haven't been moved in many
a long year.

Holmes, you've forgotten the and under.

Is there a cellar under here?

The door to the house.

There's a bit of wood all over the
floor, darling.

Bronson's muffler. I swear to it. What?

Inspector, this is a friend of mine, Dr.
Watson.

Inspector, I have some experience in
forensic pathology.

The man has been dead for two days.
Cause of death, suffocation.

No wound or bruise on his person, sir?

No.

Accident, eh?

Oh, there's no doubt about it.

He must have been down there alone and
the flagstone just fell shut on him,

fellow.

Sir Reginald, I'm told that your butler
was down in the cellar in an unused part

of the house.

What was his business there, sir?

A butler's duties are many and varied,
Inspector. I can't possibly answer that

question. Well, no one would have heard
his cries for help in that part of the

house. That is the point, surely,
Inspector.

Sir

Gallus.

Rachel? The servants are naturally
upset.

Well, who is this Rachel?

One of my housemates. She was engaged to
Brunton. Do please cover him up.

When he disappeared, she became ill and
left.

Well, I shall want to see her. I shall
want to see that young woman also.

Sergeant?

The local inspector hopes that if you
could find a portable explanation point

avoid publicity in this wretched... I
must confess that so

far I am disappointed in my
investigation.

I had reckon upon solving the matter
when once I'd found the place referred

in the ritual, but now that I'm here,

I'm as far and ever from knowing what it
was your family concealed with such

elaborate recordings.

Solve my mystery of Brunton. But how?

How did his fate come upon him? And what
part has been played by the woman who's

disappeared?

I, um... I should explain Holmes'
methods in such cases. He puts himself

man's place.

How he first gauged his intelligence.

Then he tries to imagine...

how he himself would have proceeded in
similar circumstances.

In this case, Brunton's intelligence is
for trade.

So you think it's unnecessary to make an
allowance?

He knows something is concealed.

He has spotted the place.

He's found the throne is too heavy for
the man to move unaided. So, what does

do?

Help from outside.

No one to trust.

Help from inside.

But who?

Rachel.

She still loves him. He sees it in her
eyes for all her show of eight.

I'm a foolish man. I don't deserve you.

You don't.

Forgive me, Rachel.

Why?

There's no one else for me.

There never has been, you know that.

But this house, it eats into your soul.

Let me take you away from here.

Let's start afresh.

You promised.

Oh, Rachel, you make me feel free.

You've never loved me.

Oh, you're wrong.

Oh, I love you for your beauty and your
spirit.

You're a perfect match with my brains
and your heart.

What do we want with service to others?

The world is out there calling us, my
love.

Well, how do we get out there with no
money?

squires of mist.

Now I've found it. I'm ready to go.

Not without you.

I couldn't live without you.

I'm to be your husband, Rachel.

There it is.

Under that stone.

All we have to do is lift it.

No, pick that wood.

When I lift this, you watch it.

Come on, woman, do as I tell you.

And that one over there.

There was a slight indentation on this
log.

And on this.

Caused by the weight of the stone.

Heavy work for a woman.

And this, I think, has been used finally
as a support.

There's our treasure.

That box was laying there for two
centuries no more.

Oh, did it?

How can you steal what nobody knows
exists?

And how did you know then?

Brains, my girl.

History and mathematics.

It'd be all the life for me.

Bring the light closer.

Make our fortune.

Oh, yes, that's a fine promise.

Quiet.

There must be some value in it.

Clever, are you?

a woman.

I know your cleverness.

Husband!

You just needed me to help you.

If it had been treasure, you'd have been
off and away without me.

You would have gone with her.

You're a fool if you believe that.

Help me out a bit.

Rachel.

her blanched face and her fevered brain
at breakfast the next morning.

Nothing but fungi.

What was in the box?

It's Charles I.

We may find something else with Charles
I.

The bag that was fished from the mere.

Gentlemen.

Look.

No.

Family heirloom.

It's possible.

Your answer to Sir Ralph Musgrave. Was
he a prominent cavalier?

Oh, yes, indeed, yes. He was close to
Charles II in his wanderings during the

Commonwealth.

Then I think that should give us the
last link that we wanted.

Gentlemen, you must bear in mind, when
the royal party were driven into exile,

they probably left many of their most
precious possessions buried behind them

for the intention of returning for them
in more peaceful times.

Go! Martin.

Martin, I believe you have in your hand
A relic which is not only of great

intrinsic value, but also of great
importance as a historical curiosity.

What is it?

Nothing less than a fragment of the
ancient crown of the

kings of England.

The crown?

Oh, no, no, Holmes, it's too handsome.

Now consider the ritual.

How does it run?

Whose was it?

His who is gone.

That was the execution of Charles.

And then, who shall have it?

He who will come.

That was Charles II, whose advent was
already foreseen.

Now can I think, in no doubt, gentlemen,
that this battered and shapeless diadem

once encircled the bras of the...

But how came it to my family?

When Charles I was executed, the crown
was seized, broken into pieces, and sold

for a thousand guineas.

Since then, there has been no trace of
it.

Until now.

But why did Charles not get it back on
his return?

That is a question which may never be
answered.

When your ancestor died, by some
oversight, he left this guide

to his descendant without ever
explaining the meaning of it.

For how about his son?

Until at last, he came within reach of a
man who...

Tore the secret out of it.

And lost his life in the venture.

Rachel?

Rachel!

Was it chance? The wood flipped? Was she
only guilty of silence?

She had a passionate Celtic pearl.

A man had wronged her.

She had him in her power. Might it not
have been vengeance that sent the stone

crashing? Her hand that dashed it away.

Now what has become of her?

Very probably she's far away from
Holston now and carries her secret with