Original subtitles

Splendid air,

Rough shooting?

Perhaps a little fishing.

And the best cook in the county of Sussex, wouldn't you say?

Holmes!

And Reginald Musgrave.

Well, he is a scion of one of the oldest families in England.

He was in the same college as myself.

He was not generally popular among the undergraduates

though 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 gray archways,

mullioned windows and all the venerable wreckage of a feudal keep.

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

To escape my lethargy

and you're constant bullying to tidy our room in Baker Street.

Hardly constant.

So I have decided to devote my weekend

to the collating of some of my early works.

What early works?

It was before my biographer came to glorify me.

Do you mean you have records of your early work?

Not all successes, but some pretty little problems-

record of the Tarleton murders,

the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant,

the adventure of the old Russian woman,

a full account of Ricoletti with the club foot, and his abominable wife,

and the singular affair of the aluminum crutch.

Aluminum crutch?

Now that was something a little recherché.

I wish I had notes of these cases.

Yes, my boy.

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

through the antiquities of a bygone age.

Surely the house interests you?

The house is freezing, Watson!

It's history-

the people in it. On your previous visit,

I remember you telling me

that you enjoyed some lively conversations with a butler.

What's his name, Brunston?

Oh, Brunton.

A young school teacher out of place.

Did he not... did he not speak several languages?

Yes, he played nearly every musical instrument.

A man of considerably more intellectual ability than his master.

Watson, we must behave ourselves.

Ah, Brunton.

Mr. Holmes, a pleasure to see you again, sir.

My friend and colleague, Doctor Watson.

Welcome to Hurlstone, sir.

Musgrave!

My friend and colleague, Doctor Watson.

So glad, it's a long time.

Yeah. How has it all gone with you?

Busy, busy.

My father died I've had the estates to manage.

And as I am now a member of Parliament for the district as well.

But you... you, I have noted, are still turning onto practical end those powers

with which you used to amaze us at college.

Yes, I'm still living by my wits 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 Musgrave's.

They did come from the north originally.

A cadet branch of the family broke away from the northern Musgrave's, and

came to West Sussex in the early 17th century.

Holmes?

Holmes.

More brandy, sir?

No, Brunton.

That's how the story goes.

And I'm not going to vouch for it, though, but the commission is over here,

signed by Prince Rupert,

It's from my ancestor the Ralph Musgrave.

To join his cavalry troop at Edge Hill.

Rupert's seal and commission, Holmes.

Astonishing.

It's one of the boots worn that day.

If I may be so bold, sir.

Huh?

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

Was it indeed? My butler was once a schoolmaster.

I must bow to his scholarship over mine in matters of my own family's history.

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

Yeah, but Brunton...

where is Rachel tonight?

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

Good night, gentlemen.

Holmes... Holmes has told me of Brunton's extraordinary gifts.

I remember on my last visit where he spent several hours

explaining to me in French,

the origins of the piccolo!

It is wonderful that he should be satisfied

for so long with such a position

but I suppose... 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, Musgrave!

However, this paragon does have one fault,

a bit of a Don Juan.

Well it's not a difficult part to play in 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.

I remember a few months ago we were in hopes

he was about to settle down again. He became engaged to Rachel Howells,

my second housemaid but he has thrown her over.

Taken up with Janet Tregallis, my gamekeeper's daughter,

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

Now she wonders around like a black-eyed shadow,

thoroughly unsettling the household.

Rachel?

Good morning, Holmes, Sir Reginald.

Thank you.

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 and lie down.

And on your way, tell Brunton that I wish to see him.

The butler is gone.

Gone? Gone where?

He's gone. He's not in his room now. No one's seen him

Oh, yes, yes, he's gone. He's gone.

It's all right.

It's all right. Gently...

Gently, Rachel, it's all right. Gently, Rachel, gently. Gentle.

The bed's not been slept in. Have you searched the house?

From cellar to garret.

The girl's right. There's no trace of him. He's gone.

It is difficult to see how a man could have left.

I mean the windows and door are all fastened.

What man goes away in the middle of the night

and leaves all his possessions behind? And money, watch...

I've given the girl something 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 on no account, be left alone for a while.

This is the girl who was engaged to Brunton?

Rachel Howells, yes, yes.

Girl with a fiery Welsh temper.

Oh, Watson.

Look, gentlemen, I had no intention that this

small domestic incident should ruin your weekend.

I propose we continue our plans for a shoot

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

Holmes!

Well done, Watson.

Holmes.

Holmes, as 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'd remembered I had extinguished the lamp and closed the door when we retired.

Naturally, my first thought was of burglars.

So, this is how you repay my trust,

prying into my family documents?

You will leave my service tomorrow.

Mr. Musgrave, sir,

I can't bear disgrace.

I've always been proud about 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, then for God sake

let me give you notice and 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 conduct 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 stage his disappearance, there and then cleverly,

possibly with the help of his new woman friend.

Janet?

No, 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 at the risk of losing his job?

Well 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 when he's 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?

Oh, 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 stepped?

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 trust,

It's a treasure hunt.

Oh no, no, I remember as children

we often tried to solve it. It leads nowhere.

Could Brunton have seen this before last night?

Well 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 was 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.

We are 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 in the time of the Norman Conquest.

In all probability, but I tell you,

it can't be the oak referred to, Holmes.

Generations of Musgrave's have attempted to solve it.

They've dug up half this field.

You are right, Musgrave, this is not the oak referred to in the ritual.

Are there any other large oaks in the immediate vicinity?

Not within a mile of the house.

Where was the sun

over the oak?

You can make nothing of it today, old man, the weather's turned.

Sir Richard.

It's eight foot deep here.

Poor demented girl!

We must live and hope, old man. There's been no body found yet.

Nothing so far, sir. We've just about covered all of it.

We found something!

What does it contain?

Nothing of value.

It could have been thrown in by anyone at anytime.

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 mass of rusted and discoloured metal and some pebbles.

And where is Brunton or Rachel?

Why should anybody bother to throw this into the lake?

I am convinced that there are not three mysteries here but only one,

and the solution of one may prove the solutions to the others.

Evidently, Brunton saw something in this, which escaped your forbears, Musgrave,

from which he expected some personal advantage.

If I can read it right

I hold in my hand the clue

to the truth concerning both the butler Brunton and the maid Howells.

Where was the sun over the oak? Where was the shadow on the elm?

So this is where it grew?

Yes.

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

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 lad 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, 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. Tregallis 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.

Holmes!

Yes!

Oh good lord!

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

when the sun is just clear of that oak.

Well that'll be difficult, Holmes, since the elm's no longer there.

Oh 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 hall.

Holmes.

Yes.

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

Ah, splendid!

Musgrave!

Every rod in the house.

Thank you.

Measuring stick please, Watson.

Would you hold that for me, Musgrave, please? And that.

Now will you take the last yard of the string

and tie it to the base of the fishing rod, Watson?

Yes, and when you've done that would you-

bring the Ritual and join me on the lawn?

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?

Ninety-eight.

Ninety-six.

Yes, of course.

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

Watson, look! Two inches from mine.

A mark made by Brunton.

Now read out the steps.

West- eight by eight.

Sixty-four. Then south- seven by seven.

Forty-nine.

West- six by six.

Thirty-six and

south- five by five.

And?

Two by Two.

One, two, three, four.

I don't believe it.

Some mistake in 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.

And under...

Holmes. You've forgotten the "and under."

Is there a cellar under here?

As old as the house.

There's been wood all over the floor.

That's Brunton's muffler, I'd swear to it.

Watson!

Inspector, this is a friend of mine, Doctor 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 this person, sir?

None.

Accident, eh?

Oh, there's no doubt about it. He must have been down there alone

and the flagstone just fell shut on him, poor 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.

Tregallis.

Rachel!

She done it! She killed him! That's why she ran away!

Tregallis!

Rachel?

It's nothing the servants are naturally upset.

Well who is this Rachel?

One of my housemaids. She was engaged to Brunton.

Do please cover him up.

One evening he disappeared. She became ill and left.

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

Sergeant.

All right, take him away.

Doctor, please.

The local inspector, Holmes.

If you could find a plausible explanation to avoid publicity in this wretched...

I must confess that so far I am disappointed in my investigation.

I had reckoned upon solving the matter when once I'd find the place

referred to in the Ritual but now that I'm here.

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

with such elaborate precautions.

But you've solved my mystery of Brunton.

But how? How did his fate come upon him

and what part has been played by the woman who has disappeared?

I should explain Holmes' methods in such cases. He...

He puts himself in the man's place

having first gauged his intelligence and then he...

he tries to imagine how he himself would have proceeded

in similar circumstances.

In this case, Brunton's intelligence is first rate.

So you see it is unnecessary to make allowance for the personal equation.

As the astronomers have dubbed it.

He knows something is concealed.

He has spotted the place.

He has found the stone is too heavy for a man to move unaided.

So what does he 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 hate.

I'm here to say I'm sorry, my love.

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

You don't.

Forgive me, Rachel

Why?

There's no one else for me. No one ever has been, you know that.

It's this house it eats into your soul.

Let me take you away from here- we'll start afresh.

Your promises! Oh, Richard, you make love so freely.

You never loved me.

Oh you're wrong! I love you for your beauty and your spirit.

We'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.

And how do we get out there with no money?

We'll have all the money we need.

I found something in this house all them country squires have missed.

Now I've found it and we're ready to go.

But not without you, I couldn't live without you.

I'm to be your husband, Rachel.

What money? What have you found?

Come with me. Put on your gown, I'll show you.

Softly now.

There it is, under that stone.

All we have to do is lift it.

Pick up that wood.

Now when I lift this, you wedge it

Come on woman, do as I tell you!

Ready?

And another one.

And that one over there.

There is 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 is laying there for two centuries or more.

Will you steal it?

How can you steal what nobody knows exists?

Well how did you know then?

Brains, my girl. History and mathematics.

Here, hold the light for me.

Bring the light closer.

Make a fortune!

Oh yes, that's a fine profit.

Quiet.

There must be some value in it.

Clever, are you? A pride, more like.

Better than your masters!

Quiet, woman.

I know your cleverness.

Husband, you just needed me to help you!

If it had been treasure you'd have been over and away without me!

You would have gone with her!

You're a fool if you believe that.

Here take this.

Now help me out of here.

Rachel!

My love, get help.

I can't breath.

Get Mr. Holmes, quickly.

Please, my love.

Rachel!

Oh God, help me.

Rachel! Rachel! Help!

Rachel! Help me!

Rachel!

Rachel, help me!

That will explain her blanched face

and her fevered brain at breakfast the next morning.

Nothing but fungi

But what was in the box, Holmes?

Sir Charles the First.

We may find something else of Charles the First.

The bag that was fished from the mere.

Gentlemen, look.

It's a jewel.

A family heirloom.

It's possible.

You're ancestor, Sir Ralph Musgrave, was he a prominent cavalier?

Oh yes indeed. Yes, he was close to Charles the Second

in his wanderings during the Commonwealth.

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

Gentlemen, you must bear mind

when the royal party were driven into exile

they probably left

many of their most precious possessions buried behind them

with the intention of returning for them in a more peaceful time.

Gold, Musgrave.

Watson, I believe you have in your hand

a relic, which is not only of great intrinsic value,

but also great importance as a historical curiosity.

Well 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 fanciful.

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 the Second, whose advent was already foreseen.

There can, I think, be no doubt, gentlemen, that this-

battered and shapeless diadem once encircled the brows of the Royal Stuarts.

But how came it into my family?

When Charles the First 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.

Father to son...

Until at last it came within reach of a man who tore it's secret out of it

and lost his life in the venture.

Rachel!

Was it chance that wood slipped or was she only guilty of silence?

She had a passionate Celtic soul.

The man had wronged her. She had it in her power.

Might it rather 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 Hurlstone now.

And carries her secret with her.