Ranulf Briquessart, Viscount Briquessart of Rutledge, was dead. This truth was as undeniable as the noonday sun. Tragically his death had been preceded by that of his wife, a beauty of Spanish nobility who was descended from the ancient Counts of Castile. These deaths were sadly followed by that of their only son, even before the honors and titles could be bestowed. Now there was a card upon the table at 221B Baker Street from Lady Magdalena, the last surviving child of Sir Ranulf. The recently elevated Viscountess Briquessart requested the presence of Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson at her Mayfair address. The De Briquessart Family stretched back to 1074 and the original Viscount Ranulf de Briquessart, so named for his Norman castle of Briquessart-en-Livry. Such was the stature of the lady who now called upon Holmes and Watson, but little did they then realize that a mystery as dark and twisted as any they'd ever known was awaiting them out upon the Isles of Scilly.
"I shall die upon those islands Mr. Holmes; I know it. Will you help me?" the lady in the black mantilla begged.
Those last four words had so often brought Sherlock Holmes back into the fray and once again the game is afoot.