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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 sign

of one of the oldest families in England.

He was in the same college as myself.

He was not generally popular

among the undergraduates

but he 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 didn't 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 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 clubfoot,

and his abominable wife

and the singular affair of the aluminum crutch.

Aluminum crutch?

Now that was something a little recherch�.

I wish I had notes of these cases.

Yes my boy.

Well you may hold my interest for a few hours

while you potter with our host

through the antiquities of a by gone age.

Surely the house interests you?

The house is freezing Watson!

It's history.

The people in there.

On your previous visit

I remember you telling me

that you endured some lively conversations

with a butler.

What's his name Brunston?

Oh Brunton.

A young schoolteacher 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.

Awe, Brunton.

Mr. Holmes, a pleasure to see you again.

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 is all gone with you?

Oh busy, busy.

My father died.

I've had the estates to manage.

And as I am now a member of parliament

the district as well.

But you... you I have noticed

are still turning to practical end of powers

with which you used to amaze us at college.

Yes, I'm still living by 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 seventeenth century.

Holmes?

Holmes?

More brandy sir?

No, Brunton.

That's how the story goes, Randall,

and I can vouch for it.

But the commission is over here,

signed by Prince Rupert.

It's from my ancestor the Ralph Musgrave.

Yes, enjoy is cavalry troop at Edge Hill.

Rupert's seal and commissioned 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.

That was indeed,

my butler was once a schoolmaster,

I must bow to his scholarship over mine

and 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 slightest temperature.

I told her to go to her room.

Good night, gentlemen.

Holmes... Holmes has told me

of Brunton's extraordinary idea.

But 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 mean, 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.

No.

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.

Gentle.

Gently.

Gentle.

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.

Do not see how the 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?

Well I've given the girl

something to calm her down

and I've taken the liberty

to sending for a local nurse.

She's in a most unusual nervous state.

And she 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 fine Welsh temper.

Oh Watson.

Look gentlemen I had no intention of this

small domestic incident

should ruin your weekend.

I propose we continue our plans for a shoot

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 Coffee 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 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 be a 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 the 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.

Seldom peculiar to our family,

which each Musgrave has to go through

when he's coming of age.

This is a strange catechism.

Undated but written in the style

of the middle of the seventeenth 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.

Why, it's a treasure hunt.

Oh no, no, I remember as children

we often tried to solve it.

It leads nowhere.

Could Brunston 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 reexamine this ritual.

The measurements obviously refer

to some exact spot

to which the rest of the document eludes.

You 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.

Good morning.

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 discolored 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.

Apparently 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.

Wherever is 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 sixty-four 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 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 fifty feet, he put it higher.

We have a small wager on it.

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

It was sixty-four feet.

Awe, was it?

I shall just have to be a good sport

and pay up then.

Thank you sir.

Holmes?

Huh?

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.

Awe 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 sixty-four 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 hey?

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 retched...

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 where it was your family concealed

with such an 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 whose 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.

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

when a 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.

Now there's some 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.

Be quiet.

There must be some value in it.

Oh how clever are you!

A pride more like.

Known 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 of been over the way 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!

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.

Well 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 amiable.

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 encircle the brows of the royal Stuart's.

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 you ancestor died by some oversight,

he left this guide to his descendent

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!

Rachel!

Was it chance that the wood slipped

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.

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