Original subtitles

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