The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes
client to where the elm had been. The sun was just grazing the
top of the oak. I fastened the rod on end, marked out the
direction of the shadow, and measured it. It was nine feet in
length.
“Of course the calculation now was a simple one. If a rod of six
feet threw a shadow of nine, a tree of sixty-four feet would
throw one of ninety-six, and the line of the one would of course
be the line of the other. I measured out the distance, which
brought me almost to the wall of the house, and I thrust a peg
into the spot. You can imagine my exultation, Watson, when within
two inches of my peg I saw a conical depression in the ground. I
knew that it was the mark made by Brunton in his measurements,
and that I was still upon his trail.
“From this starting-point I proceeded to step, having first taken
the cardinal points by my pocket-compass. Ten steps with each
foot took me along parallel with the wall of the house, and again
I marked my spot with a peg. Then I carefully paced off five to
the east and two to the south. It brought me to the very
threshold of the old door. Two steps to the west meant now that I
was to go two paces down the stone-flagged passage, and this was
the place indicated by the Ritual.
“Never have I felt such a cold chill of disappointment, Watson.
For a moment it seemed to me that there must be some radical
mistake in my calculations. The setting sun shone full upon the
passage floor, and I could see that the old, foot-worn grey
stones with which it was paved were firmly cemented together, and
had certainly not been moved for many a long year. Brunton had
not been at work here. I tapped upon the floor, but it sounded
the same all over, and there was no sign of any crack or crevice.
But, fortunately, Musgrave, who had begun to appreciate the
meaning of my proceedings, and who was now as excited as myself,
took out his manuscript to check my calculation.
“‘And under,’ he cried. ‘You have omitted the “and under.”’
“I had thought that it meant that we were to dig, but now, of
course, I saw at once that I was wrong. ‘There is a cellar under
this then?’ I cried.
“‘Yes, and as old as the house. Down here, through this door.’
“We went down a winding stone stair, and my companion, striking a
match, lit a large lantern which stood on a barrel in the corner.
In an instant it was obvious that we had at last come upon the
true place, and that we had not been the only people to visit the
spot recently.
“It had been used for the storage of wood, but the billets, which
had evidently been littered over the floor, were now piled at the
sides, so as to leave a clear space in the middle. In this space
lay a large and heavy flagstone with a rusted iron ring in the
centre to which a thick shepherd’s-check muffler was attached.
“‘By Jove!’ cried my client. ‘That’s Brunton’s muffler. I have
seen it on him, and could swear to it. What has the villain been
doing here?’
“At my suggestion a couple of the county police were summoned to
be present, and I then endeavoured to raise the stone by pulling
on the cravat. I could only move it slightly, and it was with the
aid of one of the constables that I succeeded at last in carrying
it to one side. A black hole yawned beneath into which we all
peered, while Musgrave, kneeling at the side, pushed down the
lantern.
“A small chamber about seven feet deep and four feet square lay
open to us. At one side of this was a squat, brass-bound wooden
box, the lid of which was hinged upwards, with this curious
old-fashioned key projecting from the lock. It was furred outside
by a thick layer of dust, and damp and worms had eaten through
the wood, so that a crop of livid fungi was growing on the inside
of it. Several discs of metal, old coins apparently, such as I
hold here, were scattered over the bottom of the box, but it
contained nothing else.
“At the moment, however, we had no thought for the old chest, for
our eyes were riveted upon that which crouched beside it. It was
the figure of a man, clad in a suit of black, who squatted down
upon his hams with his forehead sunk upon the edge of the box and
his two arms thrown out on each side of it. The attitude had
drawn all the stagnant blood to the face, and no man could have
recognised that distorted liver-coloured countenance; but his
height, his dress, and his hair were all sufficient to show my
client, when we had drawn the body up, that it was indeed his
missing butler. He had been dead some days, but there was no
wound or bruise upon his person to show how he had met his
dreadful end. When his body had been carried from the cellar we
found ourselves still confronted with a problem which was almost
as formidable as that with which we had started.
“I confess that so far, Watson, I had been disappointed in my
investigation. I had reckoned upon solving the matter when once I
had found the place referred to in the Ritual; but now I was
there, and was apparently as far as ever from knowing what it was
which the family had concealed with such elaborate precautions.
It is true that I had thrown a light upon the fate of Brunton,
but now I had to ascertain how that fate had come upon him, and
what part had been played in the matter by the woman who had
disappeared. I sat down upon a keg in the corner and thought the
whole matter carefully over.
“You know my methods in such cases, Watson. I put myself in the
man’s place and, having first gauged his intelligence, I try to
imagine how I should myself have proceeded under the same
circumstances. In this case the matter was simplified by
Brunton’s intelligence being quite first-rate, so that it was
unnecessary to make any allowance for the personal equation, as
the astronomers have dubbed it. He knew that something valuable
was concealed. He had spotted the place. He found that the stone
which covered it was just too heavy for a man to move unaided.
What would he do next? He could not get help from outside, even
if he had some one whom he could trust, without the unbarring of
doors and considerable risk of detection. It was better, if he
could, to have his helpmate inside the house. But whom could he
ask? This girl had been devoted to him. A man always finds it
hard to realize that he may have finally lost a woman’s love,
however badly he may have treated her. He would try by a few
attentions to make his peace with the girl Howells, and then
would engage her as his accomplice. Together they would come at
night to the cellar, and their united force would suffice to
raise the stone. So far I could follow their actions as if I had
actually seen them.
“But for two of them, and one a woman, it must have been heavy
work the raising of that stone. A burly Sussex policeman and I
had found it no light job. What would they do to assist them?
Probably what I should have done myself. I rose and examined
carefully the different billets of wood which were scattered
round the floor. Almost at once I came upon what I expected. One
piece, about three feet in length, had a very marked indentation
at one end, while several were flattened at the sides as if they
had been compressed by some considerable weight. Evidently, as
they had dragged the stone up they had thrust the chunks of wood
into the chink, until at last, when the opening was large enough
to crawl through, they would hold it open by a billet placed
lengthwise, which might very well become indented at the lower
end, since the whole weight of the stone would press it down on
to the edge of this other slab. So far I was still on safe
ground.
“And now how was I to proceed to reconstruct this midnight drama?
Clearly, only one could fit into the hole, and that one was
Brunton. The girl must have waited above. Brunton then unlocked
the box, handed up the contents presumably—since they were not to
be found—and then—and then what happened?
“What smouldering fire of vengeance had suddenly sprung into
flame in this passionate Celtic woman’s soul when she saw the man
who had wronged her—wronged her, perhaps, far more than we
suspected—in her power? Was it a chance that the wood had
slipped, and that the stone had shut Brunton into what had become
his sepulchre? Had she only been guilty of silence as to his
fate? Or had some sudden blow from her hand dashed the support
away and sent the slab crashing down into its place? Be that as
it might, I seemed to see that woman’s figure still clutching at
her treasure trove and flying wildly up the winding stair, with
her ears ringing perhaps with the muffled screams from behind her
and with the drumming of frenzied hands against the slab of stone
which was choking her faithless lover’s life out.
“Here was the secret of her blanched face, her shaken nerves, her
peals of hysterical laughter on the next morning. But what had
been in the box? What had she done with that? Of course, it must
have been the old metal and pebbles which my client had dragged
from the mere. She had thrown them in there at the first
opportunity to remove the last trace of her crime.
“For twenty minutes I had sat motionless, thinking the matter
out. Musgrave still stood with a very pale face, swinging his
lantern and peering down into the hole.
“‘These are coins of Charles the First,’ said he, holding out the
few which had been in the box; ‘you see we were right in fixing
our date for the Ritual.’
“‘We may find something else of Charles the First,’ I cried, as
the probable meaning of the first two questions of the Ritual
broke suddenly upon me. ‘Let me see the contents of the bag which
you fished from the mere.’
“We ascended to his study, and he laid the _débris_ before me. I
could understand his regarding it as of small importance when I
looked at it, for the metal was almost black and the stones
lustreless and dull. I rubbed one of them on my sleeve, however,
and it glowed afterwards like a spark in the dark hollow of my
hand. The metal work was in the form of a double ring, but it had
been bent and twisted out of its original shape.
“‘You must bear in mind,’ said I, ‘that the Royal party made head
in England even after the death of the King, and that when they
at last fled they probably left many of their most precious
possessions buried behind them, with the intention of returning
for them in more peaceful times.’
“‘My ancestor, Sir Ralph Musgrave, was a prominent Cavalier and
the right-hand man of Charles the Second in his wanderings,’ said
my friend.
“‘Ah, indeed!’ I answered. ‘Well now, I think that really should
give us the last link that we wanted. I must congratulate you on
coming into the possession, though in rather a tragic manner of a
relic which is of great intrinsic value, but of even greater