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“You may be right, Watson. I believe that you are right. It follows then that this mysterious sender knows the Musgrave family well. We progress! It now remains only to read her message.” He picked up the envelope and studied it again with minutest attention. Laying down his pipe he picked up a pencil and opened his notebook.

“Bah!” He exclaimed. “Trysor, the Welsh name for treasure, can be extracted from ‘Report Sy’, but what of that? We have no indication whatsoever that the message’s sender is a Welsh woman, or that treasure is involved. To the contrary, our correspondent is evidently a resident of Canada and our bullion mere blank paper. I get nowhere. What make you of report sy‘, Watson?”

“SY is an identifying code perhaps?” I suggested. “Or an abbreviation for Sydney, in Australia? Or for ‘symbol’?”

Holmes deliberated. “All three are possibilities. Let us consider a fourth: system. ‘Confidential Films’ or if there has been a slip of the writer’s pen, ‘Confidential Files’, implies some form of orderly arrangement. ‘system’ would answer to both. Dare we take it as a working hypothesis and see where it leads us?”

“You are probably correct,” I responded. “The word does suggest itself.”

“Very well. report system it is, until further data proves otherwise. Now, what of ‘confl films‘?”

It was my turn to scribble. “coffins!” I cried. “The word ‘coffins’ can be extracted from it, Holmes!”

“Good for you, Watson! ‘Coffins’ sounds promising; the word has a pleasing ring. That leaves us with mll. It is evidently a Roman date. M of course is 1000 and L is 50. 1000 ad plus two 50s.” He thought for a moment. “But the Romans never wrote LL to express 100. Its symbol was C. So our second L is suspect. It is ambiguous. It is ‘extra’. What date – or what message – is this sender trying to convey to us? 1050? 1100? Some date in between? What significance could such a date have on an envelope intended for us but addressed to Norman, or Newman, Musgrave?”

“I can think of none,” I confessed.

Holmes rose to his feet. “I have it, Watson! I believe I have it!” His face glowed with excitement. “Reginald Musgrave, that devoted custodian of his ancient feudal keep, told me years ago that his estate’s ancient oak tree was probably in situ at the time of the Norman Conquest. The Norman Conquest, Watson! 1066, as we were taught at school, when the feudal system was at its height. This is the explanation for the deliberate change of name from Newman to Norman! It is another of the sender’s tricks. She grows more interesting hourly! She is directing us to that labyrinth of catacombs, crypts and ancient dungeons of which I told you before. Yes, my boy, the solution to this pretty puzzle lies in the ancient coffins of the Musgraves’ manor at Hurlstone!”

I felt my blood quicken with excitement. “You have reasoned it out marvellously,” said I.

“Well, if you will be kind enough to select an early train tomorrow to western Sussex I will send a telegram at once to Nathaniel Musgrave, the new squire, to tell him of our arrival. I have no doubt that he will be glad to see us. It will be a pleasure to introduce him to you, Watson.”

“I look forward to it,” said I heartily. “Reginald Musgrave was a man in whose family story, and your part in it, I found great interest. That fresh developments are now expected adds special appeal. The game is evidently afoot once more!”

“Indeed it is, old friend, and a ‘grave’ one it may prove to be,” said Holmes with a chuckle. He was, as always, in good spirits when his brain was grappling with an intellectual challenge. At seven the next morning a first class smoker from Waterloo found us bound for Hurlstone. We arrived at the pleasant country station to find a two-wheeler waiting. The driver greeted us cheerfully.

“Mr Sherlock Holmes? Dr Watson? I am from Hurlstone, sirs, sent by Mister Nathaniel to meet you. I trust you had a good journey?”

“Thank you, yes.”

Holmes glanced at me, then addressed the man again.

“Sir Reginald and I were friends for