The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes
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
birthplace 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 grey 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 short-handed.
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 to-morrow.”
“‘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