4 The Ritual

Chapter 4 The Ritual You can imagine, Watson, how eagerly I listened to this extraordinary story, and how I tried to piece all these strange events together to find some rational explanation. The butler was gone. The maid was gone. The maid had loved the butler, but then had good reason to hate him. She'd been strangely excited after his disappearance and had flung into the lake a bag containing some curious objects. All these facts dangled before me like links on a chain, but where did this chain of events begin? My hunch was that they began with the Musgrave Ritual.

"I must see that document," I said to my friend. "I'm talking about the document this butler of yours decided he had to take a look at, even at the risk of losing his job." "I thought you might," said Musgrave, "so I brought a copy." He handed me a sheet of paper —the very same one I have here, Watson. "It's a pretty absurd ritual," he said, sounding almost embarrassed. "My ancestors must have been a strange bunch, that's all I can say." The paper contained a list of questions and answers, as follows: 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? North by ten and by ten, east by five and by five, south by two and by two, west by one and by one, and so under. What shall we give for it? All that is ours. Why should we give it? For the sake of the trust. "Do you know when this was written?" I asked Musgrave. "The original isn't dated, but we think it was probably written around the middle of the seventeenth century. I'm afraid it's not going to be much help in solving our mystery."

"But it presents us with another mystery," I replied, "and by solving this one, we may find the solution to the other. I'm sorry to say this, Musgrave, but your butler seems to have been a great deal cleverer than ten generations of his masters." "What on earth do you mean?" said Musgrave. "He found meaning where you Musgraves merely found ritual." "But the words are simply nonsense, aren't they?"

"On the contrary," I said. "I think they make a great deal of sense, and I'm sure Brunton thought so, too. You said he had a map with him, which he was comparing to the document, and which he stuffed into his pocket when you appeared?" "That's right, but what could that have to do with our family ritual?" "I'm sure I could answer that and all the other questions relating to this mystery," I said, "but I'll need to visit your house to do so. Would that be all right?" "Absolutely!" said Musgrave, sounding delighted. "We can go right away, if you're ready." And so it was that I found myself that same afternoon at Hurlstone. It's a rather gloomy old

manor house of thick stone walls and mullioned windows set in a splendid park. The house is built in the shape of an L. The long arm is the modern part, and the shorter one is the original building, which dates back to the sixteenth century. I was already convinced that there were not three separate mysteries to be solved here, but one. If I could only work out the true meaning of the Musgrave Ritual, it would tell me what happened to both the butler and the maid. Why had Brunton been so interested in this ancient list of questions and answers? He must have seen something in it that had escaped the attention of all those generations of Musgraves— something that could benefit him in some way. It seemed clear to me that the ritual referred to a particular place, and my first task was to find that place. There were two clues in the text pointing to where it might be: an oak and an elm. The location of the first of these was obvious as soon as we arrived: a magnificent old oak tree stood in front of the house on the left-hand side of the drive.