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whole long chain of surmise and of proof which I had
constructed. The twilight had closed in and the moon
was shining brightly in the sky before my narrative
was finished.

"'And how was it then that Charles did not get his
crown when he returned?' asked Musgrave, pushing back
the relic into its linen bag.

"'Ah, there you lay your finger upon the one point
which we shall probably never be able to clear up. It
is likely that the Musgrave who held the secret died
in the interval, and by some oversight left this guide
to his descendant without explaining the meaning of
it. From that day to this it has been handed down
from father to son, until at last it came within reach
of a man who tore its secret out of it and lost his
life in the venture.'


"And that's the story of the Musgrave Ritual, Watson.
They have the crown down at Hurlstone--though they had
some legal bother and a considerable sum to pay before
they were allowed to retain it. I am sure that if you
mentioned my name they would be happy to show it to
you. Of the woman nothing was ever heard, and the
probability is that she got away out of England and
carried herself and the memory of her crime to some
land beyond the seas."



Adventure VI


The Reigate Puzzle


It was some time before the health of my friend Mr.
Sherlock Holmes recovered from the strain caused by
his immense exertions in the spring of '87. The whole
question of the Netherland-Sumatra Company and of the
colossal schemes of Baron Maupertuis are too recent in
the minds of the public, and are too intimately
concerned with politics and finance to be fitting
subjects for this series of sketches. They led,
however, in an indirect fashion to a singular and
complex problem which gave my friend an opportunity of
demonstrating the value of a fresh weapon among the
many with which he waged his life-long battle against
crime.

On referring to my notes I see that it was upon the
14th of April that I received a telegram from Lyons
which informed me that Holmes was lying ill in the
Hotel Dulong. Within twenty-four hours I was in his
sick-room, and was relieved to find that there was
nothing formidable in his symptoms. Even his iron
constitution, however, had broken down under the
strain of an investigation which had extended over two
months, during which period he had never worked less
than fifteen hours a day, and had more than once, as
he assured me, kept to his task for five days at a
stretch. Even the triumphant issue of his labors
could not save him from reaction after so terrible an
exertion, and at a time when Europe was ringing with
his name and when his room was literally ankle-deep
with congratulatory telegrams I found him a prey to
the blackest depression. Even the knowledge that he
had succeeded where the police of three countries had
failed, and that he had outmanoeuvred at every point
the most accomplished swindler in Europe, was
insufficient to rouse him from his nervous

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