THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES

By A. Conan Doyle

Chapter 1. Mr. Sherlock Holmes

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, saveupon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seatedat the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up thestick which our visitor had left behind him the night before. It was afine, thick piece of wood, bulbous-headed, of the sort which is known asa "Penang lawyer. " Just under the head was a broad silver band nearlyan inch across. "To James Mortimer, M. R. C. S. , from his friends of theC. C. H. , " was engraved upon it, with the date "1884. " It was just such astick as the old-fashioned family practitioner used to carry--dignified, solid, and reassuring. 

"Well, Watson, what do you make of it?"

Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign ofmy occupation. 

"How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the backof your head. "

"I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front ofme, " said he. "But, tell me, Watson, what do you make of our visitor'sstick? Since we have been so unfortunate as to miss him and have nonotion of his errand, this accidental souvenir becomes of importance. Let me hear you reconstruct the man by an examination of it. "

"I think, " said I, following as far as I could the methods of mycompanion, "that Dr. Mortimer is a successful, elderly medical man, well-esteemed since those who know him give him this mark of theirappreciation. "

"Good!" said Holmes. "Excellent!"

"I think also that the probability is in favour of his being a countrypractitioner who does a great deal of his visiting on foot. "

"Why so?"

"Because this stick, though originally a very handsome one has been soknocked about that I can hardly imagine a town practitioner carrying it. The thick-iron ferrule is worn down, so it is evident that he has done agreat amount of walking with it. "

"Perfectly sound!" said Holmes. 

"And then again, there is the 'friends of the C. C. H. ' I should guessthat to be the Something Hunt, the local hunt to whose members he haspossibly given some surgical assistance, and which has made him a smallpresentation in return. "

"Really, Watson, you excel yourself, " said Holmes, pushing back hischair and lighting a cigarette. "I am bound to say that in all theaccounts which you have been so good as to give of my own smallachievements you have habitually underrated your own abilities. It maybe that you are not yourself luminous, but you are a conductor oflight. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power ofstimulating it. I confess, my dear fellow, that I am very much in yourdebt. "

He had never said as much before, and I must admit that his words gaveme keen pleasure, for I had often been piqued by his indifference to myadmiration and to the attempts which I had made to give publicity tohis methods. I was proud, too, to think that I had so far mastered hissystem as to apply it in a way which earned his approval. He now tookthe stick from my hands and examined it for a few minutes with his nakedeyes. Then with an expression of interest he laid down his cigarette, and carrying the cane to the window, he looked over it again with aconvex lens. 

"Interesting, though elementary, " said he as he returned to hisfavourite corner of the settee. "There are certainly one or twoindications upon the stick. It gives us the basis for severaldeductions. "

"Has anything escaped me?" I asked with some self-importance. "I trustthat there is nothing of consequence which I have overlooked?"

"I am afraid, my dear Watson, that most of your conclusions wereerroneous. When I said that you stimulated me I meant, to be frank, thatin noting your fallacies I was occasionally guided towards the truth. Not that you are entirely wrong in this instance. The man is certainly acountry practitioner. And he walks a good deal. "

"Then I was right. "

"To that extent. "

"But that was all. "

"No, no, my dear Watson, not all--by no means all. I would suggest, forexample, that a presentation to a doctor is more likely to come from ahospital than from a hunt, and that when the initials 'C. C. ' are placedbefore that hospital the words 'Charing Cross' very naturally suggestthemselves. "

"You may be right. "

"The probability lies in that direction. And if we take this as aworking hypothesis we have a fresh basis from which to start ourconstruction of this unknown visitor. "

"Well, then, supposing that 'C. C. H. ' does stand for 'Charing CrossHospital, ' what further inferences may we draw?"

"Do none suggest themselves? You know my methods. Apply them!"

"I can only think of the obvious conclusion that the man has practisedin town before going to the country. "

"I think that we might venture a little farther than this. Look at itin this light. On what occasion would it be most probable that such apresentation would be made? When would his friends unite to give hima pledge of their good will? Obviously at the moment when Dr. Mortimerwithdrew from the service of the hospital in order to start a practicefor himself. We know there has been a presentation. We believe there hasbeen a change from a town hospital to a country practice. Is it, then, stretching our inference too far to say that the presentation was on theoccasion of the change?"

"It certainly seems probable. "

"Now, you will observe that he could not have been on the staff of thehospital, since only a man well-established in a London practice couldhold such a position, and such a one would not drift into the country. What was he, then? If he was in the hospital and yet not on the staff hecould only have been a house-surgeon or a house-physician--little morethan a senior student. And he left five years ago--the date is on thestick. So your grave, middle-aged family practitioner vanishes intothin air, my dear Watson, and there emerges a young fellow under thirty, amiable, unambitious, absent-minded, and the possessor of a favouritedog, which I should describe roughly as being larger than a terrier andsmaller than a mastiff. "

I laughed incredulously as Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his settee andblew little wavering rings of smoke up to the ceiling. 

"As to the latter part, I have no means of checking you, " said I, "butat least it is not difficult to find out a few particulars about theman's age and professional career. " From my small medical shelf I tookdown the Medical Directory and turned up the name. There were severalMortimers, but only one who could be our visitor. I read his recordaloud. 

 "Mortimer, James, M. R. C. S. , 1882, Grimpen, Dartmoor, Devon. House-surgeon, from 1882 to 1884, at Charing Cross Hospital. Winner of the Jackson prize for Comparative Pathology, with essay entitled 'Is Disease a Reversion?' Corresponding member of the Swedish Pathological Society. Author of 'Some Freaks of Atavism' (Lancet 1882). 'Do We Progress?' (Journal of Psychology, March, 1883). Medical Officer for the parishes of Grimpen, Thorsley, and High Barrow. "

"No mention of that local hunt, Watson, " said Holmes with a mischievoussmile, "but a country doctor, as you very astutely observed. I thinkthat I am fairly justified in my inferences. As to the adjectives, Isaid, if I remember right, amiable, unambitious, and absent-minded. It is my experience that it is only an amiable man in this world whoreceives testimonials, only an unambitious one who abandons a Londoncareer for the country, and only an absent-minded one who leaves hisstick and not his visiting-card after waiting an hour in your room. "

"And the dog?"

"Has been in the habit of carrying this stick behind his master. Being aheavy stick the dog has held it tightly by the middle, and the marks ofhis teeth are very plainly visible. The dog's jaw, as shown in the spacebetween these marks, is too broad in my opinion for a terrier and notbroad enough for a mastiff. It may have been--yes, by Jove, it is acurly-haired spaniel. "

He had risen and paced the room as he spoke. Now he halted in the recessof the window. There was such a ring of conviction in his voice that Iglanced up in surprise. 

"My dear fellow, how can you possibly be so sure of that?"

"For the very simple reason that I see the dog himself on our verydoor-step, and there is the ring of its owner. Don't move, I beg you, Watson. He is a professional brother of yours, and your presence may beof assistance to me. Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, whenyou hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life, and youknow not whether for good or ill. What does Dr. James Mortimer, the manof science, ask of Sherlock Holmes, the specialist in crime? Come in!"

The appearance of our visitor was a surprise to me, since I had expecteda typical country practitioner. He was a very tall, thin man, with along nose like a beak, which jutted out between two keen, gray eyes, set closely together and sparkling brightly from behind a pair ofgold-rimmed glasses. He was clad in a professional but rather slovenlyfashion, for his frock-coat was dingy and his trousers frayed. Thoughyoung, his long back was already bowed, and he walked with a forwardthrust of his head and a general air of peering benevolence. As heentered his eyes fell upon the stick in Holmes's hand, and he rantowards it with an exclamation of joy. "I am so very glad, " said he. "I was not sure whether I had left it here or in the Shipping Office. Iwould not lose that stick for the world. "

"A presentation, I see, " said Holmes. 

"Yes, sir. "

"From Charing Cross Hospital?"

"From one or two friends there on the occasion of my marriage. "

"Dear, dear, that's bad!" said Holmes, shaking his head. 

Dr. Mortimer blinked through his glasses in mild astonishment. "Why wasit bad?"

"Only that you have disarranged our little deductions. Your marriage, you say?"

"Yes, sir. I married, and so left the hospital, and with it all hopes ofa consulting practice. It was necessary to make a home of my own. "

"Come, come, we are not so far wrong, after all, " said Holmes. "And now, Dr. James Mortimer--"

"Mister, sir, Mister--a humble M. R. C. S. "

"And a man of precise mind, evidently. "

"A dabbler in science, Mr. Holmes, a picker up of shells on the shoresof the great unknown ocean. I presume that it is Mr. Sherlock Holmeswhom I am addressing and not--"

"No, this is my friend Dr. Watson. "

"Glad to meet you, sir. I have heard your name mentioned in connectionwith that of your friend. You interest me very much, Mr. Holmes. Ihad hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-markedsupra-orbital development. Would you have any objection to my running myfinger along your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull, sir, untilthe original is available, would be an ornament to any anthropologicalmuseum. It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covetyour skull. "

Sherlock Holmes waved our strange visitor into a chair. "You are anenthusiast in your line of thought, I perceive, sir, as I am inmine, " said he. "I observe from your forefinger that you make your owncigarettes. Have no hesitation in lighting one. "

The man drew out paper and tobacco and twirled the one up in the otherwith surprising dexterity. He had long, quivering fingers as agile andrestless as the antennae of an insect. 

Holmes was silent, but his little darting glances showed me the interestwhich he took in our curious companion. "I presume, sir, " said he atlast, "that it was not merely for the purpose of examining my skull thatyou have done me the honour to call here last night and again today?"

"No, sir, no; though I am happy to have had the opportunity of doingthat as well. I came to you, Mr. Holmes, because I recognized that I ammyself an unpractical man and because I am suddenly confronted with amost serious and extraordinary problem. Recognizing, as I do, that youare the second highest expert in Europe--"

"Indeed, sir! May I inquire who has the honour to be the first?" askedHolmes with some asperity. 

"To the man of precisely scientific mind the work of Monsieur Bertillonmust always appeal strongly. "

"Then had you not better consult him?"

"I said, sir, to the precisely scientific mind. But as a practical manof affairs it is acknowledged that you stand alone. I trust, sir, that Ihave not inadvertently--"

"Just a little, " said Holmes. "I think, Dr. Mortimer, you would dowisely if without more ado you would kindly tell me plainly what theexact nature of the problem is in which you demand my assistance. "

Chapter 2. The Curse of the Baskervilles

"I have in my pocket a manuscript, " said Dr. James Mortimer. 

"I observed it as you entered the room, " said Holmes. 

"It is an old manuscript. "

"Early eighteenth century, unless it is a forgery. "

"How can you say that, sir?"

"You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination all the timethat you have been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not givethe date of a document within a decade or so. You may possibly have readmy little monograph upon the subject. I put that at 1730. "

"The exact date is 1742. " Dr. Mortimer drew it from his breast-pocket. "This family paper was committed to my care by Sir Charles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic death some three months ago created so muchexcitement in Devonshire. I may say that I was his personal friend aswell as his medical attendant. He was a strong-minded man, sir, shrewd, practical, and as unimaginative as I am myself. Yet he took thisdocument very seriously, and his mind was prepared for just such an endas did eventually overtake him. "

Holmes stretched out his hand for the manuscript and flattened it uponhis knee. "You will observe, Watson, the alternative use of the long sand the short. It is one of several indications which enabled me to fixthe date. "

I looked over his shoulder at the yellow paper and the faded script. Atthe head was written: "Baskerville Hall, " and below in large, scrawlingfigures: "1742. "

"It appears to be a statement of some sort. "

"Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend which runs in theBaskerville family. "

"But I understand that it is something more modern and practical uponwhich you wish to consult me?"

"Most modern. A most practical, pressing matter, which must be decidedwithin twenty-four hours. But the manuscript is short and is intimatelyconnected with the affair. With your permission I will read it to you. "

Holmes leaned back in his chair, placed his finger-tips together, andclosed his eyes, with an air of resignation. Dr. Mortimer turned themanuscript to the light and read in a high, cracking voice the followingcurious, old-world narrative:

 "Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have been many statements, yet as I come in a direct line from Hugo Baskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also had it from his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred even as is here set forth. And I would have you believe, my sons, that the same Justice which punishes sin may also most graciously forgive it, and that no ban is so heavy but that by prayer and repentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story not to fear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in the future, that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered so grievously may not again be loosed to our undoing. 

 "Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the history of which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commend to your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo of that name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane, and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts, but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humour which made his name a by-word through the West. It chanced that this Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evil name. So it came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with five or six of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, her father and brothers being from home, as he well knew. When they had brought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom. Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her from below, for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blast the man who said them. At last in the stress of her fear she did that which might have daunted the bravest or most active man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall she came down from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father's farm. 

 "It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink--with other worse things, perchance--to his captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud before all the company that he would that very night render his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake the wench. And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her. Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor. 

 "Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home. 

 "They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. 'But I have seen more than that, ' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels. ' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them. 

 "The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three dare-devil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days. 

 "Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. If I have set it down it is because that which is clearly known hath less terror than that which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can it be denied that many of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Yet may we shelter ourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence, which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generation which is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my sons, I hereby commend you, and I counsel you by way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours when the powers of evil are exalted. 

 "[This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth. ]"

When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushedhis spectacles up on his forehead and stared across at Mr. SherlockHolmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigarette into thefire. 

"Well?" said he. 

"Do you not find it interesting?"

"To a collector of fairy tales. "

Dr. Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of his pocket. 

"Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. Thisis the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a shortaccount of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskervillewhich occurred a few days before that date. "

My friend leaned a little forward and his expression became intent. Ourvisitor readjusted his glasses and began:

 "The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose name has been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county. Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for a comparatively short period his amiability of character and extreme generosity had won the affection and respect of all who had been brought into contact with him. In these days of nouveaux riches it is refreshing to find a case where the scion of an old county family which has fallen upon evil days is able to make his own fortune and to bring it back with him to restore the fallen grandeur of his line. Sir Charles, as is well known, made large sums of money in South African speculation. More wise than those who go on until the wheel turns against them, he realized his gains and returned to England with them. It is only two years since he took up his residence at Baskerville Hall, and it is common talk how large were those schemes of reconstruction and improvement which have been interrupted by his death. Being himself childless, it was his openly expressed desire that the whole countryside should, within his own lifetime, profit by his good fortune, and many will have personal reasons for bewailing his untimely end. His generous donations to local and county charities have been frequently chronicled in these columns. 

 "The circumstances connected with the death of Sir Charles cannot be said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest, but at least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours to which local superstition has given rise. There is no reason whatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could be from any but natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and a man who may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habit of mind. In spite of his considerable wealth he was simple in his personal tastes, and his indoor servants at Baskerville Hall consisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband acting as butler and the wife as housekeeper. Their evidence, corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that Sir Charles's health has for some time been impaired, and points especially to some affection of the heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and medical attendant of the deceased, has given evidence to the same effect. 

 "The facts of the case are simple. Sir Charles Baskerville was in the habit every night before going to bed of walking down the famous yew alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of the Barrymores shows that this had been his custom. On the fourth of May Sir Charles had declared his intention of starting next day for London, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. That night he went out as usual for his nocturnal walk, in the course of which he was in the habit of smoking a cigar. He never returned. At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search of his master. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles's footmarks were easily traced down the alley. Halfway down this walk there is a gate which leads out on to the moor. There were indications that Sir Charles had stood for some little time here. He then proceeded down the alley, and it was at the far end of it that his body was discovered. One fact which has not been explained is the statement of Barrymore that his master's footprints altered their character from the time that he passed the moor-gate, and that he appeared from thence onward to have been walking upon his toes. One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no great distance at the time, but he appears by his own confession to have been the worse for drink. He declares that he heard cries but is unable to state from what direction they came. No signs of violence were to be discovered upon Sir Charles's person, and though the doctor's evidence pointed to an almost incredible facial distortion--so great that Dr. Mortimer refused at first to believe that it was indeed his friend and patient who lay before him--it was explained that that is a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death from cardiac exhaustion. This explanation was borne out by the post-mortem examination, which showed long-standing organic disease, and the coroner's jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of the utmost importance that Sir Charles's heir should settle at the Hall and continue the good work which has been so sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner not finally put an end to the romantic stories which have been whispered in connection with the affair, it might have been difficult to find a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understood that the next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be still alive, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. The young man when last heard of was in America, and inquiries are being instituted with a view to informing him of his good fortune. "

Dr. Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket. "Thoseare the public facts, Mr. Holmes, in connection with the death of SirCharles Baskerville. "

"I must thank you, " said Sherlock Holmes, "for calling my attention to acase which certainly presents some features of interest. I had observedsome newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly preoccupiedby that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to obligethe Pope I lost touch with several interesting English cases. Thisarticle, you say, contains all the public facts?"

"It does. "

"Then let me have the private ones. " He leaned back, put his finger-tipstogether, and assumed his most impassive and judicial expression. 

"In doing so, " said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs of somestrong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided to anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a man ofscience shrinks from placing himself in the public position of seemingto indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive thatBaskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainly remain untenantedif anything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that I was justified in telling ratherless than I knew, since no practical good could result from it, but withyou there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank. 

"The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near each otherare thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good deal ofSir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr. Frankland, of LafterHall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other men ofeducation within many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man, but thechance of his illness brought us together, and a community of interestsin science kept us so. He had brought back much scientific informationfrom South Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent togetherdiscussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the Hottentot. 

"Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me thatSir Charles's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. He hadtaken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart--so muchso that, although he would walk in his own grounds, nothing would inducehim to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it may appear toyou, Mr. Holmes, he was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhunghis family, and certainly the records which he was able to give ofhis ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presenceconstantly haunted him, and on more than one occasion he has asked mewhether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seen any strangecreature or heard the baying of a hound. The latter question he putto me several times, and always with a voice which vibrated withexcitement. 

"I can well remember driving up to his house in the evening some threeweeks before the fatal event. He chanced to be at his hall door. I haddescended from my gig and was standing in front of him, when I sawhis eyes fix themselves over my shoulder and stare past me with anexpression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round and had justtime to catch a glimpse of something which I took to be a large blackcalf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was hethat I was compelled to go down to the spot where the animal had beenand look around for it. It was gone, however, and the incident appearedto make the worst impression upon his mind. I stayed with him all theevening, and it was on that occasion, to explain the emotion which hehad shown, that he confided to my keeping that narrative which I read toyou when first I came. I mention this small episode because it assumessome importance in view of the tragedy which followed, but I wasconvinced at the time that the matter was entirely trivial and that hisexcitement had no justification. 

"It was at my advice that Sir Charles was about to go to London. Hisheart was, I knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in which he lived, however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently having aserious effect upon his health. I thought that a few months among thedistractions of town would send him back a new man. Mr. Stapleton, amutual friend who was much concerned at his state of health, was of thesame opinion. At the last instant came this terrible catastrophe. 

"On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler, who madethe discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I wassitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour ofthe event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentionedat the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the yew alley, I saw thespot at the moor-gate where he seemed to have waited, I remarked thechange in the shape of the prints after that point, I noted that therewere no other footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, andfinally I carefully examined the body, which had not been touched untilmy arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers duginto the ground, and his features convulsed with some strong emotion tosuch an extent that I could hardly have sworn to his identity. There wascertainly no physical injury of any kind. But one false statement wasmade by Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no tracesupon the ground round the body. He did not observe any. But I did--somelittle distance off, but fresh and clear. "

"Footprints?"

"Footprints. "

"A man's or a woman's?"

Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and his voice sankalmost to a whisper as he answered. 

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

Chapter 3. The Problem

I confess at these words a shudder passed through me. There was a thrillin the doctor's voice which showed that he was himself deeply moved bythat which he told us. Holmes leaned forward in his excitement and hiseyes had the hard, dry glitter which shot from them when he was keenlyinterested. 

"You saw this?"

"As clearly as I see you. "

"And you said nothing?"

"What was the use?"

"How was it that no one else saw it?"

"The marks were some twenty yards from the body and no one gave thema thought. I don't suppose I should have done so had I not known thislegend. "

"There are many sheep-dogs on the moor?"

"No doubt, but this was no sheep-dog. "

"You say it was large?"

"Enormous. "

"But it had not approached the body?"

"No. "

"What sort of night was it?'

"Damp and raw. "

"But not actually raining?"

"No. "

"What is the alley like?"

"There are two lines of old yew hedge, twelve feet high andimpenetrable. The walk in the centre is about eight feet across. "

"Is there anything between the hedges and the walk?"

"Yes, there is a strip of grass about six feet broad on either side. "

"I understand that the yew hedge is penetrated at one point by a gate?"

"Yes, the wicket-gate which leads on to the moor. "

"Is there any other opening?"

"None. "

"So that to reach the yew alley one either has to come down it from thehouse or else to enter it by the moor-gate?"

"There is an exit through a summer-house at the far end. "

"Had Sir Charles reached this?"

"No; he lay about fifty yards from it. "

"Now, tell me, Dr. Mortimer--and this is important--the marks which yousaw were on the path and not on the grass?"

"No marks could show on the grass. "

"Were they on the same side of the path as the moor-gate?"

"Yes; they were on the edge of the path on the same side as themoor-gate. "

"You interest me exceedingly. Another point. Was the wicket-gateclosed?"

"Closed and padlocked. "

"How high was it?"

"About four feet high. "

"Then anyone could have got over it?"

"Yes. "

"And what marks did you see by the wicket-gate?"

"None in particular. "

"Good heaven! Did no one examine?"

"Yes, I examined, myself. "

"And found nothing?"

"It was all very confused. Sir Charles had evidently stood there forfive or ten minutes. "

"How do you know that?"

"Because the ash had twice dropped from his cigar. "

"Excellent! This is a colleague, Watson, after our own heart. But themarks?"

"He had left his own marks all over that small patch of gravel. I coulddiscern no others. "

Sherlock Holmes struck his hand against his knee with an impatientgesture. 

"If I had only been there!" he cried. "It is evidently a case ofextraordinary interest, and one which presented immense opportunities tothe scientific expert. That gravel page upon which I might have read somuch has been long ere this smudged by the rain and defaced by the clogsof curious peasants. Oh, Dr. Mortimer, Dr. Mortimer, to think that youshould not have called me in! You have indeed much to answer for. "

"I could not call you in, Mr. Holmes, without disclosing these facts tothe world, and I have already given my reasons for not wishing to do so. Besides, besides--"

"Why do you hesitate?"

"There is a realm in which the most acute and most experienced ofdetectives is helpless. "

"You mean that the thing is supernatural?"

"I did not positively say so. "

"No, but you evidently think it. "

"Since the tragedy, Mr. Holmes, there have come to my ears severalincidents which are hard to reconcile with the settled order of Nature. "

"For example?"

"I find that before the terrible event occurred several people had seena creature upon the moor which corresponds with this Baskerville demon, and which could not possibly be any animal known to science. They allagreed that it was a huge creature, luminous, ghastly, and spectral. Ihave cross-examined these men, one of them a hard-headed countryman, one a farrier, and one a moorland farmer, who all tell the same story ofthis dreadful apparition, exactly corresponding to the hell-hound of thelegend. I assure you that there is a reign of terror in the district, and that it is a hardy man who will cross the moor at night. "

"And you, a trained man of science, believe it to be supernatural?"

"I do not know what to believe. "

Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "I have hitherto confined myinvestigations to this world, " said he. "In a modest way I have combatedevil, but to take on the Father of Evil himself would, perhaps, be tooambitious a task. Yet you must admit that the footmark is material. "

"The original hound was material enough to tug a man's throat out, andyet he was diabolical as well. "

"I see that you have quite gone over to the supernaturalists. But now, Dr. Mortimer, tell me this. If you hold these views, why have you cometo consult me at all? You tell me in the same breath that it is uselessto investigate Sir Charles's death, and that you desire me to do it. "

"I did not say that I desired you to do it. "

"Then, how can I assist you?"

"By advising me as to what I should do with Sir Henry Baskerville, whoarrives at Waterloo Station"--Dr. Mortimer looked at his watch--"inexactly one hour and a quarter. "

"He being the heir?"

"Yes. On the death of Sir Charles we inquired for this young gentlemanand found that he had been farming in Canada. From the accounts whichhave reached us he is an excellent fellow in every way. I speak now notas a medical man but as a trustee and executor of Sir Charles's will. "

"There is no other claimant, I presume?"

"None. The only other kinsman whom we have been able to trace was RodgerBaskerville, the youngest of three brothers of whom poor Sir Charles wasthe elder. The second brother, who died young, is the father of this ladHenry. The third, Rodger, was the black sheep of the family. He came ofthe old masterful Baskerville strain and was the very image, they tellme, of the family picture of old Hugo. He made England too hot to holdhim, fled to Central America, and died there in 1876 of yellow fever. Henry is the last of the Baskervilles. In one hour and five minutesI meet him at Waterloo Station. I have had a wire that he arrived atSouthampton this morning. Now, Mr. Holmes, what would you advise me todo with him?"

"Why should he not go to the home of his fathers?"

"It seems natural, does it not? And yet, consider that every Baskervillewho goes there meets with an evil fate. I feel sure that if Sir Charlescould have spoken with me before his death he would have warned meagainst bringing this, the last of the old race, and the heir to greatwealth, to that deadly place. And yet it cannot be denied that theprosperity of the whole poor, bleak countryside depends upon hispresence. All the good work which has been done by Sir Charles willcrash to the ground if there is no tenant of the Hall. I fear lest Ishould be swayed too much by my own obvious interest in the matter, andthat is why I bring the case before you and ask for your advice. "

Holmes considered for a little time. 

"Put into plain words, the matter is this, " said he. "In your opinionthere is a diabolical agency which makes Dartmoor an unsafe abode for aBaskerville--that is your opinion?"

"At least I might go the length of saying that there is some evidencethat this may be so. "

"Exactly. But surely, if your supernatural theory be correct, it couldwork the young man evil in London as easily as in Devonshire. A devilwith merely local powers like a parish vestry would be too inconceivablea thing. "

"You put the matter more flippantly, Mr. Holmes, than you would probablydo if you were brought into personal contact with these things. Youradvice, then, as I understand it, is that the young man will be as safein Devonshire as in London. He comes in fifty minutes. What would yourecommend?"

"I recommend, sir, that you take a cab, call off your spaniel who isscratching at my front door, and proceed to Waterloo to meet Sir HenryBaskerville. "

"And then?"

"And then you will say nothing to him at all until I have made up mymind about the matter. "

"How long will it take you to make up your mind?"

"Twenty-four hours. At ten o'clock tomorrow, Dr. Mortimer, I will bemuch obliged to you if you will call upon me here, and it will beof help to me in my plans for the future if you will bring Sir HenryBaskerville with you. "

"I will do so, Mr. Holmes. " He scribbled the appointment on hisshirt-cuff and hurried off in his strange, peering, absent-mindedfashion. Holmes stopped him at the head of the stair. 

"Only one more question, Dr. Mortimer. You say that before Sir CharlesBaskerville's death several people saw this apparition upon the moor?"

"Three people did. "

"Did any see it after?"

"I have not heard of any. "

"Thank you. Good-morning. "

Holmes returned to his seat with that quiet look of inward satisfactionwhich meant that he had a congenial task before him. 

"Going out, Watson?"

"Unless I can help you. "

"No, my dear fellow, it is at the hour of action that I turn to you foraid. But this is splendid, really unique from some points of view. When you pass Bradley's, would you ask him to send up a pound of thestrongest shag tobacco? Thank you. It would be as well if you could makeit convenient not to return before evening. Then I should be very gladto compare impressions as to this most interesting problem which hasbeen submitted to us this morning. "

I knew that seclusion and solitude were very necessary for my friendin those hours of intense mental concentration during which he weighedevery particle of evidence, constructed alternative theories, balancedone against the other, and made up his mind as to which points wereessential and which immaterial. I therefore spent the day at my club anddid not return to Baker Street until evening. It was nearly nine o'clockwhen I found myself in the sitting-room once more. 

My first impression as I opened the door was that a fire had broken out, for the room was so filled with smoke that the light of the lamp uponthe table was blurred by it. As I entered, however, my fears were set atrest, for it was the acrid fumes of strong coarse tobacco which took meby the throat and set me coughing. Through the haze I had a vague visionof Holmes in his dressing-gown coiled up in an armchair with his blackclay pipe between his lips. Several rolls of paper lay around him. 

"Caught cold, Watson?" said he. 

"No, it's this poisonous atmosphere. "

"I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you mention it. "

"Thick! It is intolerable. "

"Open the window, then! You have been at your club all day, I perceive. "

"My dear Holmes!"

"Am I right?"

"Certainly, but how?"

He laughed at my bewildered expression. "There is a delightful freshnessabout you, Watson, which makes it a pleasure to exercise any smallpowers which I possess at your expense. A gentleman goes forth on ashowery and miry day. He returns immaculate in the evening with thegloss still on his hat and his boots. He has been a fixture thereforeall day. He is not a man with intimate friends. Where, then, could hehave been? Is it not obvious?"

"Well, it is rather obvious. "

"The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance everobserves. Where do you think that I have been?"

"A fixture also. "

"On the contrary, I have been to Devonshire. "

"In spirit?"

"Exactly. My body has remained in this armchair and has, I regretto observe, consumed in my absence two large pots of coffee and anincredible amount of tobacco. After you left I sent down to Stamford'sfor the Ordnance map of this portion of the moor, and my spirit hashovered over it all day. I flatter myself that I could find my wayabout. "

"A large-scale map, I presume?"

"Very large. "

He unrolled one section and held it over his knee. "Here you have theparticular district which concerns us. That is Baskerville Hall in themiddle. "

"With a wood round it?"

"Exactly. I fancy the yew alley, though not marked under that name, muststretch along this line, with the moor, as you perceive, upon the rightof it. This small clump of buildings here is the hamlet of Grimpen, where our friend Dr. Mortimer has his headquarters. Within a radius offive miles there are, as you see, only a very few scattered dwellings. Here is Lafter Hall, which was mentioned in the narrative. There isa house indicated here which may be the residence of thenaturalist--Stapleton, if I remember right, was his name. Here are twomoorland farmhouses, High Tor and Foulmire. Then fourteen miles away thegreat convict prison of Princetown. Between and around these scatteredpoints extends the desolate, lifeless moor. This, then, is the stageupon which tragedy has been played, and upon which we may help to playit again. "

"It must be a wild place. "

"Yes, the setting is a worthy one. If the devil did desire to have ahand in the affairs of men--"

"Then you are yourself inclining to the supernatural explanation. "

"The devil's agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not? There aretwo questions waiting for us at the outset. The one is whether any crimehas been committed at all; the second is, what is the crime and how wasit committed? Of course, if Dr. Mortimer's surmise should be correct, and we are dealing with forces outside the ordinary laws of Nature, there is an end of our investigation. But we are bound to exhaust allother hypotheses before falling back upon this one. I think we'll shutthat window again, if you don't mind. It is a singular thing, but I findthat a concentrated atmosphere helps a concentration of thought. I havenot pushed it to the length of getting into a box to think, but that isthe logical outcome of my convictions. Have you turned the case over inyour mind?"

"Yes, I have thought a good deal of it in the course of the day. "

"What do you make of it?"

"It is very bewildering. "

"It has certainly a character of its own. There are points ofdistinction about it. That change in the footprints, for example. Whatdo you make of that?"

"Mortimer said that the man had walked on tiptoe down that portion ofthe alley. "

"He only repeated what some fool had said at the inquest. Why should aman walk on tiptoe down the alley?"

"What then?"

"He was running, Watson--running desperately, running for his life, running until he burst his heart--and fell dead upon his face. "

"Running from what?"

"There lies our problem. There are indications that the man was crazedwith fear before ever he began to run. "

"How can you say that?"

"I am presuming that the cause of his fears came to him across the moor. If that were so, and it seems most probable, only a man who had lost hiswits would have run from the house instead of towards it. If thegipsy's evidence may be taken as true, he ran with cries for help in thedirection where help was least likely to be. Then, again, whom was hewaiting for that night, and why was he waiting for him in the yew alleyrather than in his own house?"

"You think that he was waiting for someone?"

"The man was elderly and infirm. We can understand his taking an eveningstroll, but the ground was damp and the night inclement. Is it naturalthat he should stand for five or ten minutes, as Dr. Mortimer, with morepractical sense than I should have given him credit for, deduced fromthe cigar ash?"

"But he went out every evening. "

"I think it unlikely that he waited at the moor-gate every evening. Onthe contrary, the evidence is that he avoided the moor. That night hewaited there. It was the night before he made his departure for London. The thing takes shape, Watson. It becomes coherent. Might I ask you tohand me my violin, and we will postpone all further thought upon thisbusiness until we have had the advantage of meeting Dr. Mortimer and SirHenry Baskerville in the morning. "

Chapter 4. Sir Henry Baskerville

Our breakfast table was cleared early, and Holmes waited in hisdressing-gown for the promised interview. Our clients were punctual totheir appointment, for the clock had just struck ten when Dr. Mortimerwas shown up, followed by the young baronet. The latter was a small, alert, dark-eyed man about thirty years of age, very sturdily built, with thick black eyebrows and a strong, pugnacious face. He wore aruddy-tinted tweed suit and had the weather-beaten appearance of one whohas spent most of his time in the open air, and yet there was somethingin his steady eye and the quiet assurance of his bearing which indicatedthe gentleman. 

"This is Sir Henry Baskerville, " said Dr. Mortimer. 

"Why, yes, " said he, "and the strange thing is, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, that if my friend here had not proposed coming round to you this morningI should have come on my own account. I understand that you think outlittle puzzles, and I've had one this morning which wants more thinkingout than I am able to give it. "

"Pray take a seat, Sir Henry. Do I understand you to say that you haveyourself had some remarkable experience since you arrived in London?"

"Nothing of much importance, Mr. Holmes. Only a joke, as like as not. It was this letter, if you can call it a letter, which reached me thismorning. "

He laid an envelope upon the table, and we all bent over it. It was ofcommon quality, grayish in colour. The address, "Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel, " was printed in rough characters; the post-mark"Charing Cross, " and the date of posting the preceding evening. 

"Who knew that you were going to the Northumberland Hotel?" askedHolmes, glancing keenly across at our visitor. 

"No one could have known. We only decided after I met Dr. Mortimer. "

"But Dr. Mortimer was no doubt already stopping there?"

"No, I had been staying with a friend, " said the doctor. 

"There was no possible indication that we intended to go to this hotel. "

"Hum! Someone seems to be very deeply interested in your movements. " Outof the envelope he took a half-sheet of foolscap paper folded into four. This he opened and spread flat upon the table. Across the middle of ita single sentence had been formed by the expedient of pasting printedwords upon it. It ran:

 As you value your life or your reason keep away from the moor. 

The word "moor" only was printed in ink. 

"Now, " said Sir Henry Baskerville, "perhaps you will tell me, Mr. Holmes, what in thunder is the meaning of that, and who it is that takesso much interest in my affairs?"

"What do you make of it, Dr. Mortimer? You must allow that there isnothing supernatural about this, at any rate?"

"No, sir, but it might very well come from someone who was convincedthat the business is supernatural. "

"What business?" asked Sir Henry sharply. "It seems to me that all yougentlemen know a great deal more than I do about my own affairs. "

"You shall share our knowledge before you leave this room, Sir Henry. Ipromise you that, " said Sherlock Holmes. "We will confine ourselvesfor the present with your permission to this very interesting document, which must have been put together and posted yesterday evening. Have youyesterday's Times, Watson?"

"It is here in the corner. "

"Might I trouble you for it--the inside page, please, with the leadingarticles?" He glanced swiftly over it, running his eyes up and down thecolumns. "Capital article this on free trade. Permit me to give you anextract from it. 

 'You may be cajoled into imagining that your own special trade or your own industry will be encouraged by a protective tariff, but it stands to reason that such legislation must in the long run keep away wealth from the country, diminish the value of our imports, and lower the general conditions of life in this island. '

"What do you think of that, Watson?" cried Holmes in high glee, rubbinghis hands together with satisfaction. "Don't you think that is anadmirable sentiment?"

Dr. Mortimer looked at Holmes with an air of professional interest, andSir Henry Baskerville turned a pair of puzzled dark eyes upon me. 

"I don't know much about the tariff and things of that kind, " said he, "but it seems to me we've got a bit off the trail so far as that note isconcerned. "

"On the contrary, I think we are particularly hot upon the trail, SirHenry. Watson here knows more about my methods than you do, but I fearthat even he has not quite grasped the significance of this sentence. "

"No, I confess that I see no connection. "

"And yet, my dear Watson, there is so very close a connection thatthe one is extracted out of the other. 'You, ' 'your, ' 'your, ' 'life, ''reason, ' 'value, ' 'keep away, ' 'from the. ' Don't you see now whencethese words have been taken?"

"By thunder, you're right! Well, if that isn't smart!" cried Sir Henry. 

"If any possible doubt remained it is settled by the fact that 'keepaway' and 'from the' are cut out in one piece. "

"Well, now--so it is!"

"Really, Mr. Holmes, this exceeds anything which I could have imagined, "said Dr. Mortimer, gazing at my friend in amazement. "I could understandanyone saying that the words were from a newspaper; but that you shouldname which, and add that it came from the leading article, is really oneof the most remarkable things which I have ever known. How did you doit?"

"I presume, Doctor, that you could tell the skull of a negro from thatof an Esquimau?"

"Most certainly. "

"But how?"

"Because that is my special hobby. The differences are obvious. Thesupra-orbital crest, the facial angle, the maxillary curve, the--"

"But this is my special hobby, and the differences are equally obvious. There is as much difference to my eyes between the leaded bourgeois typeof a Times article and the slovenly print of an evening half-penny paperas there could be between your negro and your Esquimau. The detection oftypes is one of the most elementary branches of knowledge to the specialexpert in crime, though I confess that once when I was very young Iconfused the Leeds Mercury with the Western Morning News. But a Timesleader is entirely distinctive, and these words could have been takenfrom nothing else. As it was done yesterday the strong probability wasthat we should find the words in yesterday's issue. "

"So far as I can follow you, then, Mr. Holmes, " said Sir HenryBaskerville, "someone cut out this message with a scissors--"

"Nail-scissors, " said Holmes. "You can see that it was a veryshort-bladed scissors, since the cutter had to take two snips over 'keepaway. '"

"That is so. Someone, then, cut out the message with a pair ofshort-bladed scissors, pasted it with paste--"

"Gum, " said Holmes. 

"With gum on to the paper. But I want to know why the word 'moor' shouldhave been written?"

"Because he could not find it in print. The other words were all simpleand might be found in any issue, but 'moor' would be less common. "

"Why, of course, that would explain it. Have you read anything else inthis message, Mr. Holmes?"

"There are one or two indications, and yet the utmost pains have beentaken to remove all clues. The address, you observe is printed in roughcharacters. But the Times is a paper which is seldom found in any handsbut those of the highly educated. We may take it, therefore, thatthe letter was composed by an educated man who wished to pose as anuneducated one, and his effort to conceal his own writing suggests thatthat writing might be known, or come to be known, by you. Again, youwill observe that the words are not gummed on in an accurate line, butthat some are much higher than others. 'Life, ' for example is quite outof its proper place. That may point to carelessness or it may point toagitation and hurry upon the part of the cutter. On the whole I inclineto the latter view, since the matter was evidently important, and itis unlikely that the composer of such a letter would be careless. If hewere in a hurry it opens up the interesting question why he should bein a hurry, since any letter posted up to early morning would reachSir Henry before he would leave his hotel. Did the composer fear aninterruption--and from whom?"

"We are coming now rather into the region of guesswork, " said Dr. Mortimer. 

"Say, rather, into the region where we balance probabilities and choosethe most likely. It is the scientific use of the imagination, but wehave always some material basis on which to start our speculation. Now, you would call it a guess, no doubt, but I am almost certain that thisaddress has been written in a hotel. "

"How in the world can you say that?"

"If you examine it carefully you will see that both the pen and the inkhave given the writer trouble. The pen has spluttered twice in a singleword and has run dry three times in a short address, showing that therewas very little ink in the bottle. Now, a private pen or ink-bottle isseldom allowed to be in such a state, and the combination of the twomust be quite rare. But you know the hotel ink and the hotel pen, whereit is rare to get anything else. Yes, I have very little hesitationin saying that could we examine the waste-paper baskets of the hotelsaround Charing Cross until we found the remains of the mutilated Timesleader we could lay our hands straight upon the person who sent thissingular message. Halloa! Halloa! What's this?"

He was carefully examining the foolscap, upon which the words werepasted, holding it only an inch or two from his eyes. 

"Well?"

"Nothing, " said he, throwing it down. "It is a blank half-sheet ofpaper, without even a water-mark upon it. I think we have drawn as muchas we can from this curious letter; and now, Sir Henry, has anythingelse of interest happened to you since you have been in London?"

"Why, no, Mr. Holmes. I think not. "

"You have not observed anyone follow or watch you?"

"I seem to have walked right into the thick of a dime novel, " said ourvisitor. "Why in thunder should anyone follow or watch me?"

"We are coming to that. You have nothing else to report to us before wego into this matter?"

"Well, it depends upon what you think worth reporting. "

"I think anything out of the ordinary routine of life well worthreporting. "

Sir Henry smiled. "I don't know much of British life yet, for I havespent nearly all my time in the States and in Canada. But I hope that tolose one of your boots is not part of the ordinary routine of life overhere. "

"You have lost one of your boots?"

"My dear sir, " cried Dr. Mortimer, "it is only mislaid. You will findit when you return to the hotel. What is the use of troubling Mr. Holmeswith trifles of this kind?"

"Well, he asked me for anything outside the ordinary routine. "

"Exactly, " said Holmes, "however foolish the incident may seem. You havelost one of your boots, you say?"

"Well, mislaid it, anyhow. I put them both outside my door last night, and there was only one in the morning. I could get no sense out of thechap who cleans them. The worst of it is that I only bought the pairlast night in the Strand, and I have never had them on. "

"If you have never worn them, why did you put them out to be cleaned?"

"They were tan boots and had never been varnished. That was why I putthem out. "

"Then I understand that on your arrival in London yesterday you went outat once and bought a pair of boots?"

"I did a good deal of shopping. Dr. Mortimer here went round with me. You see, if I am to be squire down there I must dress the part, andit may be that I have got a little careless in my ways out West. Amongother things I bought these brown boots--gave six dollars for them--andhad one stolen before ever I had them on my feet. "

"It seems a singularly useless thing to steal, " said Sherlock Holmes. "I confess that I share Dr. Mortimer's belief that it will not be longbefore the missing boot is found. "

"And, now, gentlemen, " said the baronet with decision, "it seems to methat I have spoken quite enough about the little that I know. It is timethat you kept your promise and gave me a full account of what we are alldriving at. "

"Your request is a very reasonable one, " Holmes answered. "Dr. Mortimer, I think you could not do better than to tell your story as you told itto us. "

Thus encouraged, our scientific friend drew his papers from his pocketand presented the whole case as he had done upon the morning before. Sir Henry Baskerville listened with the deepest attention and with anoccasional exclamation of surprise. 

"Well, I seem to have come into an inheritance with a vengeance, " saidhe when the long narrative was finished. "Of course, I've heard of thehound ever since I was in the nursery. It's the pet story of the family, though I never thought of taking it seriously before. But as to myuncle's death--well, it all seems boiling up in my head, and I can'tget it clear yet. You don't seem quite to have made up your mind whetherit's a case for a policeman or a clergyman. "

"Precisely. "

"And now there's this affair of the letter to me at the hotel. I supposethat fits into its place. "

"It seems to show that someone knows more than we do about what goes onupon the moor, " said Dr. Mortimer. 

"And also, " said Holmes, "that someone is not ill-disposed towards you, since they warn you of danger. "

"Or it may be that they wish, for their own purposes, to scare me away. "

"Well, of course, that is possible also. I am very much indebted to you, Dr. Mortimer, for introducing me to a problem which presents severalinteresting alternatives. But the practical point which we now have todecide, Sir Henry, is whether it is or is not advisable for you to go toBaskerville Hall. "

"Why should I not go?"

"There seems to be danger. "

"Do you mean danger from this family fiend or do you mean danger fromhuman beings?"

"Well, that is what we have to find out. "

"Whichever it is, my answer is fixed. There is no devil in hell, Mr. Holmes, and there is no man upon earth who can prevent me from going tothe home of my own people, and you may take that to be my final answer. "His dark brows knitted and his face flushed to a dusky red as he spoke. It was evident that the fiery temper of the Baskervilles was not extinctin this their last representative. "Meanwhile, " said he, "I have hardlyhad time to think over all that you have told me. It's a big thing for aman to have to understand and to decide at one sitting. I should liketo have a quiet hour by myself to make up my mind. Now, look here, Mr. Holmes, it's half-past eleven now and I am going back right away to myhotel. Suppose you and your friend, Dr. Watson, come round and lunchwith us at two. I'll be able to tell you more clearly then how thisthing strikes me. "

"Is that convenient to you, Watson?"

"Perfectly. "

"Then you may expect us. Shall I have a cab called?"

"I'd prefer to walk, for this affair has flurried me rather. "

"I'll join you in a walk, with pleasure, " said his companion. 

"Then we meet again at two o'clock. Au revoir, and good-morning!"

We heard the steps of our visitors descend the stair and the bang of thefront door. In an instant Holmes had changed from the languid dreamer tothe man of action. 

"Your hat and boots, Watson, quick! Not a moment to lose!" He rushedinto his room in his dressing-gown and was back again in a few secondsin a frock-coat. We hurried together down the stairs and into thestreet. Dr. Mortimer and Baskerville were still visible about twohundred yards ahead of us in the direction of Oxford Street. 

"Shall I run on and stop them?"

"Not for the world, my dear Watson. I am perfectly satisfied with yourcompany if you will tolerate mine. Our friends are wise, for it iscertainly a very fine morning for a walk. "

He quickened his pace until we had decreased the distance which dividedus by about half. Then, still keeping a hundred yards behind, wefollowed into Oxford Street and so down Regent Street. Once our friendsstopped and stared into a shop window, upon which Holmes did thesame. An instant afterwards he gave a little cry of satisfaction, and, following the direction of his eager eyes, I saw that a hansom cab witha man inside which had halted on the other side of the street was nowproceeding slowly onward again. 

"There's our man, Watson! Come along! We'll have a good look at him, ifwe can do no more. "

At that instant I was aware of a bushy black beard and a pair ofpiercing eyes turned upon us through the side window of the cab. Instantly the trapdoor at the top flew up, something was screamed tothe driver, and the cab flew madly off down Regent Street. Holmes lookedeagerly round for another, but no empty one was in sight. Then he dashedin wild pursuit amid the stream of the traffic, but the start was toogreat, and already the cab was out of sight. 

"There now!" said Holmes bitterly as he emerged panting and white withvexation from the tide of vehicles. "Was ever such bad luck and suchbad management, too? Watson, Watson, if you are an honest man you willrecord this also and set it against my successes!"

"Who was the man?"

"I have not an idea. "

"A spy?"

"Well, it was evident from what we have heard that Baskerville has beenvery closely shadowed by someone since he has been in town. How elsecould it be known so quickly that it was the Northumberland Hotel whichhe had chosen? If they had followed him the first day I argued that theywould follow him also the second. You may have observed that I twicestrolled over to the window while Dr. Mortimer was reading his legend. "

"Yes, I remember. "

"I was looking out for loiterers in the street, but I saw none. Weare dealing with a clever man, Watson. This matter cuts very deep, andthough I have not finally made up my mind whether it is a benevolent ora malevolent agency which is in touch with us, I am conscious always ofpower and design. When our friends left I at once followed them in thehopes of marking down their invisible attendant. So wily was he that hehad not trusted himself upon foot, but he had availed himself of a cabso that he could loiter behind or dash past them and so escape theirnotice. His method had the additional advantage that if they were totake a cab he was all ready to follow them. It has, however, one obviousdisadvantage. "

"It puts him in the power of the cabman. "

"Exactly. "

"What a pity we did not get the number!"

"My dear Watson, clumsy as I have been, you surely do not seriouslyimagine that I neglected to get the number? No. 2704 is our man. Butthat is no use to us for the moment. "

"I fail to see how you could have done more. "

"On observing the cab I should have instantly turned and walked in theother direction. I should then at my leisure have hired a second caband followed the first at a respectful distance, or, better still, havedriven to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there. When our unknownhad followed Baskerville home we should have had the opportunity ofplaying his own game upon himself and seeing where he made for. Asit is, by an indiscreet eagerness, which was taken advantage of withextraordinary quickness and energy by our opponent, we have betrayedourselves and lost our man. "

We had been sauntering slowly down Regent Street during thisconversation, and Dr. Mortimer, with his companion, had long vanished infront of us. 

"There is no object in our following them, " said Holmes. "The shadow hasdeparted and will not return. We must see what further cards we havein our hands and play them with decision. Could you swear to that man'sface within the cab?"

"I could swear only to the beard. "

"And so could I--from which I gather that in all probability it wasa false one. A clever man upon so delicate an errand has no use for abeard save to conceal his features. Come in here, Watson!"

He turned into one of the district messenger offices, where he waswarmly greeted by the manager. 

"Ah, Wilson, I see you have not forgotten the little case in which I hadthe good fortune to help you?"

"No, sir, indeed I have not. You saved my good name, and perhaps mylife. "

"My dear fellow, you exaggerate. I have some recollection, Wilson, thatyou had among your boys a lad named Cartwright, who showed some abilityduring the investigation. "

"Yes, sir, he is still with us. "

"Could you ring him up?--thank you! And I should be glad to have changeof this five-pound note. "

A lad of fourteen, with a bright, keen face, had obeyed the summonsof the manager. He stood now gazing with great reverence at the famousdetective. 

"Let me have the Hotel Directory, " said Holmes. "Thank you! Now, Cartwright, there are the names of twenty-three hotels here, all in theimmediate neighbourhood of Charing Cross. Do you see?"

"Yes, sir. "

"You will visit each of these in turn. "

"Yes, sir. "

"You will begin in each case by giving the outside porter one shilling. Here are twenty-three shillings. "

"Yes, sir. "

"You will tell him that you want to see the waste-paper of yesterday. You will say that an important telegram has miscarried and that you arelooking for it. You understand?"

"Yes, sir. "

"But what you are really looking for is the centre page of the Timeswith some holes cut in it with scissors. Here is a copy of the Times. Itis this page. You could easily recognize it, could you not?"

"Yes, sir. "

"In each case the outside porter will send for the hall porter, to whomalso you will give a shilling. Here are twenty-three shillings. You willthen learn in possibly twenty cases out of the twenty-three that thewaste of the day before has been burned or removed. In the three othercases you will be shown a heap of paper and you will look for this pageof the Times among it. The odds are enormously against your findingit. There are ten shillings over in case of emergencies. Let me have areport by wire at Baker Street before evening. And now, Watson, it onlyremains for us to find out by wire the identity of the cabman, No. 2704, and then we will drop into one of the Bond Street picture galleries andfill in the time until we are due at the hotel. "

Chapter 5. Three Broken Threads

Sherlock Holmes had, in a very remarkable degree, the power of detachinghis mind at will. For two hours the strange business in which we hadbeen involved appeared to be forgotten, and he was entirely absorbed inthe pictures of the modern Belgian masters. He would talk of nothingbut art, of which he had the crudest ideas, from our leaving the galleryuntil we found ourselves at the Northumberland Hotel. 

"Sir Henry Baskerville is upstairs expecting you, " said the clerk. "Heasked me to show you up at once when you came. "

"Have you any objection to my looking at your register?" said Holmes. 

"Not in the least. "

The book showed that two names had been added after that of Baskerville. One was Theophilus Johnson and family, of Newcastle; the other Mrs. Oldmore and maid, of High Lodge, Alton. 

"Surely that must be the same Johnson whom I used to know, " said Holmesto the porter. "A lawyer, is he not, gray-headed, and walks with alimp?"

"No, sir, this is Mr. Johnson, the coal-owner, a very active gentleman, not older than yourself. "

"Surely you are mistaken about his trade?"

"No, sir! he has used this hotel for many years, and he is very wellknown to us. "

"Ah, that settles it. Mrs. Oldmore, too; I seem to remember the name. Excuse my curiosity, but often in calling upon one friend one findsanother. "

"She is an invalid lady, sir. Her husband was once mayor of Gloucester. She always comes to us when she is in town. "

"Thank you; I am afraid I cannot claim her acquaintance. We haveestablished a most important fact by these questions, Watson, " hecontinued in a low voice as we went upstairs together. "We know now thatthe people who are so interested in our friend have not settled downin his own hotel. That means that while they are, as we have seen, veryanxious to watch him, they are equally anxious that he should not seethem. Now, this is a most suggestive fact. "

"What does it suggest?"

"It suggests--halloa, my dear fellow, what on earth is the matter?"

As we came round the top of the stairs we had run up against Sir HenryBaskerville himself. His face was flushed with anger, and he held an oldand dusty boot in one of his hands. So furious was he that he was hardlyarticulate, and when he did speak it was in a much broader and moreWestern dialect than any which we had heard from him in the morning. 

"Seems to me they are playing me for a sucker in this hotel, " he cried. "They'll find they've started in to monkey with the wrong man unlessthey are careful. By thunder, if that chap can't find my missing bootthere will be trouble. I can take a joke with the best, Mr. Holmes, butthey've got a bit over the mark this time. "

"Still looking for your boot?"

"Yes, sir, and mean to find it. "

"But, surely, you said that it was a new brown boot?"

"So it was, sir. And now it's an old black one. "

"What! you don't mean to say--?"

"That's just what I do mean to say. I only had three pairs in theworld--the new brown, the old black, and the patent leathers, which I amwearing. Last night they took one of my brown ones, and today they havesneaked one of the black. Well, have you got it? Speak out, man, anddon't stand staring!"

An agitated German waiter had appeared upon the scene. 

"No, sir; I have made inquiry all over the hotel, but I can hear no wordof it. "

"Well, either that boot comes back before sundown or I'll see themanager and tell him that I go right straight out of this hotel. "

"It shall be found, sir--I promise you that if you will have a littlepatience it will be found. "

"Mind it is, for it's the last thing of mine that I'll lose in this denof thieves. Well, well, Mr. Holmes, you'll excuse my troubling you aboutsuch a trifle--"

"I think it's well worth troubling about. "

"Why, you look very serious over it. "

"How do you explain it?"

"I just don't attempt to explain it. It seems the very maddest, queerestthing that ever happened to me. "

"The queerest perhaps--" said Holmes thoughtfully. 

"What do you make of it yourself?"

"Well, I don't profess to understand it yet. This case of yours is verycomplex, Sir Henry. When taken in conjunction with your uncle's deathI am not sure that of all the five hundred cases of capital importancewhich I have handled there is one which cuts so deep. But we holdseveral threads in our hands, and the odds are that one or other of themguides us to the truth. We may waste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later we must come upon the right. "

We had a pleasant luncheon in which little was said of the businesswhich had brought us together. It was in the private sitting-room towhich we afterwards repaired that Holmes asked Baskerville what were hisintentions. 

"To go to Baskerville Hall. "

"And when?"

"At the end of the week. "

"On the whole, " said Holmes, "I think that your decision is a wise one. I have ample evidence that you are being dogged in London, and amid themillions of this great city it is difficult to discover who these peopleare or what their object can be. If their intentions are evil they mightdo you a mischief, and we should be powerless to prevent it. You did notknow, Dr. Mortimer, that you were followed this morning from my house?"

Dr. Mortimer started violently. "Followed! By whom?"

"That, unfortunately, is what I cannot tell you. Have you among yourneighbours or acquaintances on Dartmoor any man with a black, fullbeard?"

"No--or, let me see--why, yes. Barrymore, Sir Charles's butler, is a manwith a full, black beard. "

"Ha! Where is Barrymore?"

"He is in charge of the Hall. "

"We had best ascertain if he is really there, or if by any possibilityhe might be in London. "

"How can you do that?"

"Give me a telegraph form. 'Is all ready for Sir Henry?' That willdo. Address to Mr. Barrymore, Baskerville Hall. What is the nearesttelegraph-office? Grimpen. Very good, we will send a second wire to thepostmaster, Grimpen: 'Telegram to Mr. Barrymore to be delivered intohis own hand. If absent, please return wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel. ' That should let us know before evening whetherBarrymore is at his post in Devonshire or not. "

"That's so, " said Baskerville. "By the way, Dr. Mortimer, who is thisBarrymore, anyhow?"

"He is the son of the old caretaker, who is dead. They have looked afterthe Hall for four generations now. So far as I know, he and his wife areas respectable a couple as any in the county. "

"At the same time, " said Baskerville, "it's clear enough that so long asthere are none of the family at the Hall these people have a mighty finehome and nothing to do. "

"That is true. "

"Did Barrymore profit at all by Sir Charles's will?" asked Holmes. 

"He and his wife had five hundred pounds each. "

"Ha! Did they know that they would receive this?"

"Yes; Sir Charles was very fond of talking about the provisions of hiswill. "

"That is very interesting. "

"I hope, " said Dr. Mortimer, "that you do not look with suspicious eyesupon everyone who received a legacy from Sir Charles, for I also had athousand pounds left to me. "

"Indeed! And anyone else?"

"There were many insignificant sums to individuals, and a large numberof public charities. The residue all went to Sir Henry. "

"And how much was the residue?"

"Seven hundred and forty thousand pounds. "

Holmes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I had no idea that so gigantica sum was involved, " said he. 

"Sir Charles had the reputation of being rich, but we did not know howvery rich he was until we came to examine his securities. The totalvalue of the estate was close on to a million. "

"Dear me! It is a stake for which a man might well play a desperategame. And one more question, Dr. Mortimer. Supposing that anythinghappened to our young friend here--you will forgive the unpleasanthypothesis!--who would inherit the estate?"

"Since Rodger Baskerville, Sir Charles's younger brother died unmarried, the estate would descend to the Desmonds, who are distant cousins. JamesDesmond is an elderly clergyman in Westmoreland. "

"Thank you. These details are all of great interest. Have you met Mr. James Desmond?"

"Yes; he once came down to visit Sir Charles. He is a man of venerableappearance and of saintly life. I remember that he refused to accept anysettlement from Sir Charles, though he pressed it upon him. "

"And this man of simple tastes would be the heir to Sir Charles'sthousands. "

"He would be the heir to the estate because that is entailed. He wouldalso be the heir to the money unless it were willed otherwise by thepresent owner, who can, of course, do what he likes with it. "

"And have you made your will, Sir Henry?"

"No, Mr. Holmes, I have not. I've had no time, for it was only yesterdaythat I learned how matters stood. But in any case I feel that the moneyshould go with the title and estate. That was my poor uncle's idea. Howis the owner going to restore the glories of the Baskervilles if he hasnot money enough to keep up the property? House, land, and dollars mustgo together. "

"Quite so. Well, Sir Henry, I am of one mind with you as to theadvisability of your going down to Devonshire without delay. There isonly one provision which I must make. You certainly must not go alone. "

"Dr. Mortimer returns with me. "

"But Dr. Mortimer has his practice to attend to, and his house is milesaway from yours. With all the goodwill in the world he may be unable tohelp you. No, Sir Henry, you must take with you someone, a trusty man, who will be always by your side. "

"Is it possible that you could come yourself, Mr. Holmes?"

"If matters came to a crisis I should endeavour to be present in person;but you can understand that, with my extensive consulting practiceand with the constant appeals which reach me from many quarters, it isimpossible for me to be absent from London for an indefinite time. Atthe present instant one of the most revered names in England is beingbesmirched by a blackmailer, and only I can stop a disastrous scandal. You will see how impossible it is for me to go to Dartmoor. "

"Whom would you recommend, then?"

Holmes laid his hand upon my arm. "If my friend would undertake it thereis no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in atight place. No one can say so more confidently than I. "

The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time toanswer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. 

"Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson, " said he. "You see howit is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. Ifyou will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll neverforget it. "

The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I wascomplimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which thebaronet hailed me as a companion. 

"I will come, with pleasure, " said I. "I do not know how I could employmy time better. "

"And you will report very carefully to me, " said Holmes. "When a crisiscomes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that bySaturday all might be ready?"

"Would that suit Dr. Watson?"

"Perfectly. "

"Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at theten-thirty train from Paddington. "

We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, anddiving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot fromunder a cabinet. 

"My missing boot!" he cried. 

"May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes. 

"But it is a very singular thing, " Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searchedthis room carefully before lunch. "

"And so did I, " said Baskerville. "Every inch of it. "

"There was certainly no boot in it then. "

"In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we werelunching. "

The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to thatconstant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which hadsucceeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story ofSir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all withinthe limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printedletter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brownboot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the newbrown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to BakerStreet, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into whichall these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco andthought. 

Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran:

Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall. BASKERVILLE. 

The second:

Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable totrace cut sheet of Times. CARTWRIGHT. 

"There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulatingthan a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round foranother scent. "

"We have still the cabman who drove the spy. "

"Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the OfficialRegistry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to myquestion. "

The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactorythan an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellowentered who was evidently the man himself. 

"I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address hadbeen inquiring for No. 2704, " said he. "I've driven my cab this sevenyears and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yardto ask you to your face what you had against me. "

"I have nothing in the world against you, my good man, " said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me aclear answer to my questions. "

"Well, I've had a good day and no mistake, " said the cabman with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?"

"First of all your name and address, in case I want you again. "

"John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley'sYard, near Waterloo Station. "

Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. 

"Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched thishouse at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the twogentlemen down Regent Street. "

The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no goodmy telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already, "said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was adetective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone. "

"My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and you may findyourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?"

"Yes, he did. "

"When did he say this?"

"When he left me. "

"Did he say anything more?"

"He mentioned his name. "

Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?"

"His name, " said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes. "

Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by thecabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burstinto a hearty laugh. 

"A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quickand supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. Sohis name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?"

"Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name. "

"Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred. "

"He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he wasa detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what hewanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. Firstwe drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until twogentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cabuntil it pulled up somewhere near here. "

"This very door, " said Holmes. 

"Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all aboutit. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down BakerStreet and along--"

"I know, " said Holmes. 

"Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threwup the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to WaterlooStation as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were thereunder the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turnedround and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have beendriving Mr. Sherlock Holmes. ' That's how I come to know the name. "

"I see. And you saw no more of him?"

"Not after he went into the station. "

"And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easygentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he wasof a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He wasdressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that. "

"Colour of his eyes?"

"No, I can't say that. "

"Nothing more that you can remember?"

"No, sir; nothing. "

"Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waitingfor you if you can bring any more information. Good-night!"

"Good-night, sir, and thank you!"

John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug ofhis shoulders and a rueful smile. 

"Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began, " said he. "Thecunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville hadconsulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I hadgot the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and sosent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we havegot a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in mymind about it. "

"About what?"

"About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerousbusiness, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dearfellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very gladto have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more. "

Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall

Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointedday, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmesdrove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctionsand advice. 

"I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson, " said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullestpossible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing. "

"What sort of facts?" I asked. 

"Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon thecase, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and hisneighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the resultshave, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, andthat is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderlygentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution doesnot arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirelyfrom our calculations. There remain the people who will actuallysurround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor. "

"Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymorecouple?"

"By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocentit would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should begiving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we willpreserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at theHall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is ourfriend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there ishis wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who mustbe your very special study. "

"I will do my best. "

"You have arms, I suppose?"

"Yes, I thought it as well to take them. "

"Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and neverrelax your precautions. "

Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waitingfor us upon the platform. 

"No, we have no news of any kind, " said Dr. Mortimer in answer to myfriend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that wehave not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never goneout without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped ournotice. "

"You have always kept together, I presume?"

"Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusementwhen I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College ofSurgeons. "

"And I went to look at the folk in the park, " said Baskerville. 

"But we had no trouble of any kind. "

"It was imprudent, all the same, " said Holmes, shaking his head andlooking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your otherboot?"

"No, sir, it is gone forever. "

"Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye, " he added as thetrain began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one ofthe phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evilare exalted. "

I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw thetall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us. 

The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making themore intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing withDr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth hadbecome ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed inwell-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetationspoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville staredeagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognizedthe familiar features of the Devon scenery. 

"I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson, "said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it. "

"I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county, " Iremarked. 

"It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county, " saidDr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head ofthe Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and powerof attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, halfGaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very youngwhen you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?"

"I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father's death and had neverseen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all asnew to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see themoor. "

"Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your firstsight of the moor, " said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriagewindow. 

Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood thererose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jaggedsummit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape ina dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and Iread upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight ofthat strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so longand left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and hisAmerican accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet asI looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever howtrue a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thickbrows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on thatforbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a riskwith the certainty that he would bravely share it. 

The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobswas waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-masterand porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gatethere stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms who leaned upon theirshort rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, ahard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and ina few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rollingpasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled housespeeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peacefuland sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinisterhills. 

The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward throughdeep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavywith dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken andmottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadilyrising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisystream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the grayboulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense withscrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation ofdelight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. Tohis eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay uponthe countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as wepassed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts ofrotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throwbefore the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles. 

"Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?"

A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay infront of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statueupon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his riflepoised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which wetravelled. 

"What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. 

Our driver half turned in his seat. "There's a convict escaped fromPrincetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watchevery road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. Thefarmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact. "

"Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can giveinformation. "

"Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing comparedto the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like anyordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing. "

"Who is he, then?"

"It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer. "

I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken aninterest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and thewanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. Thecommutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to hiscomplete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had toppeda rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottledwith gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down fromit and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, waslurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, hisheart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barrenwaste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fellsilent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him. 

We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back onit now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads ofgold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broadtangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilderover huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Nowand then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down intoa cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had beentwisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towersrose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip. 

"Baskerville Hall, " said he. 

Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shiningeyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze offantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on eitherside, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of theBaskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs ofrafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the firstfruit of Sir Charles's South African gold. 

Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels wereagain hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in asombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked upthe long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at thefarther end. 

"Was it here?" he asked in a low voice. 

"No, no, the yew alley is on the other side. "

The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face. 

"It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such aplace as this, " said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a rowof electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know itagain, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in frontof the hall door. "

The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay beforeus. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy blockof building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped inivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coatof arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose thetwin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. Toright and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the highchimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang asingle black column of smoke. 

"Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!"

A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door ofthe wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellowlight of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down ourbags. 

"You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me. "

"Surely you will stay and have some dinner?"

"No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I wouldstay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guidethan I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if Ican be of service. "

The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turnedinto the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fineapartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavilyraftered with huge baulks of age-blackened oak. In the greatold-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackledand snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numbfrom our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin windowof old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coatsof arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of thecentral lamp. 

"It's just as I imagined it, " said Sir Henry. "Is it not the verypicture of an old family home? To think that this should be the samehall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes mesolemn to think of it. "

I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed abouthim. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows traileddown the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore hadreturned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front ofus now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was aremarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard andpale, distinguished features. 

"Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?"

"Is it ready?"

"In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. Mywife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you havemade your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the newconditions this house will require a considerable staff. "

"What new conditions?"

"I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and wewere able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to havemore company, and so you will need changes in your household. "

"Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?"

"Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir. "

"But your family have been with us for several generations, have theynot? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old familyconnection. "

I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face. 

"I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave usa shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that weshall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall. "

"But what do you intend to do?"

"I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselvesin some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to doso. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms. "

A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridorsextended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedroomsopened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost nextdoor to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than thecentral part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candlesdid something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had leftupon my mind. 

But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadowand gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais wherethe family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot acrossabove our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows offlaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity ofan old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when twoblack-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by ashaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. Adim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethanknight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us bytheir silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when themeal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-roomand smoke a cigarette. 

"My word, it isn't a very cheerful place, " said Sir Henry. "I supposeone can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alonein such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire earlytonight, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning. "

I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from mywindow. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the halldoor. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. Ahalf moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light Isaw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curveof the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my lastimpression was in keeping with the rest. 

And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which wouldnot come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of thehours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And thensuddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to myears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, themuffled, strangling gasp of one who is torn by an uncontrollable sorrow. I sat up in bed and listened intently. The noise could not have beenfar away and was certainly in the house. For half an hour I waited withevery nerve on the alert, but there came no other sound save the chimingclock and the rustle of the ivy on the wall. 

Chapter 7. The Stapletons of Merripit House

The fresh beauty of the following morning did something to efface fromour minds the grim and gray impression which had been left upon both ofus by our first experience of Baskerville Hall. As Sir Henry and I satat breakfast the sunlight flooded in through the high mullioned windows, throwing watery patches of colour from the coats of arms which coveredthem. The dark panelling glowed like bronze in the golden rays, and itwas hard to realize that this was indeed the chamber which had strucksuch a gloom into our souls upon the evening before. 

"I guess it is ourselves and not the house that we have to blame!" saidthe baronet. "We were tired with our journey and chilled by our drive, so we took a gray view of the place. Now we are fresh and well, so it isall cheerful once more. "

"And yet it was not entirely a question of imagination, " I answered. "Did you, for example, happen to hear someone, a woman I think, sobbingin the night?"

"That is curious, for I did when I was half asleep fancy that I heardsomething of the sort. I waited quite a time, but there was no more ofit, so I concluded that it was all a dream. "

"I heard it distinctly, and I am sure that it was really the sob of awoman. "

"We must ask about this right away. " He rang the bell and askedBarrymore whether he could account for our experience. It seemed to methat the pallid features of the butler turned a shade paler still as helistened to his master's question. 

"There are only two women in the house, Sir Henry, " he answered. "One isthe scullery-maid, who sleeps in the other wing. The other is my wife, and I can answer for it that the sound could not have come from her. "

And yet he lied as he said it, for it chanced that after breakfast I metMrs. Barrymore in the long corridor with the sun full upon her face. Shewas a large, impassive, heavy-featured woman with a stern set expressionof mouth. But her telltale eyes were red and glanced at me from betweenswollen lids. It was she, then, who wept in the night, and if she did soher husband must know it. Yet he had taken the obvious risk of discoveryin declaring that it was not so. Why had he done this? And why did sheweep so bitterly? Already round this pale-faced, handsome, black-beardedman there was gathering an atmosphere of mystery and of gloom. It was hewho had been the first to discover the body of Sir Charles, and we hadonly his word for all the circumstances which led up to the old man'sdeath. Was it possible that it was Barrymore, after all, whom we hadseen in the cab in Regent Street? The beard might well have been thesame. The cabman had described a somewhat shorter man, but such animpression might easily have been erroneous. How could I settle thepoint forever? Obviously the first thing to do was to see the Grimpenpostmaster and find whether the test telegram had really been placed inBarrymore's own hands. Be the answer what it might, I should at leasthave something to report to Sherlock Holmes. 

Sir Henry had numerous papers to examine after breakfast, so that thetime was propitious for my excursion. It was a pleasant walk of fourmiles along the edge of the moor, leading me at last to a small grayhamlet, in which two larger buildings, which proved to be the inn andthe house of Dr. Mortimer, stood high above the rest. The postmaster, who was also the village grocer, had a clear recollection of thetelegram. 

"Certainly, sir, " said he, "I had the telegram delivered to Mr. Barrymore exactly as directed. "

"Who delivered it?"

"My boy here. James, you delivered that telegram to Mr. Barrymore at theHall last week, did you not?"

"Yes, father, I delivered it. "

"Into his own hands?" I asked. 

"Well, he was up in the loft at the time, so that I could not put itinto his own hands, but I gave it into Mrs. Barrymore's hands, and shepromised to deliver it at once. "

"Did you see Mr. Barrymore?"

"No, sir; I tell you he was in the loft. "

"If you didn't see him, how do you know he was in the loft?"

"Well, surely his own wife ought to know where he is, " said thepostmaster testily. "Didn't he get the telegram? If there is any mistakeit is for Mr. Barrymore himself to complain. "

It seemed hopeless to pursue the inquiry any farther, but it was clearthat in spite of Holmes's ruse we had no proof that Barrymore had notbeen in London all the time. Suppose that it were so--suppose that thesame man had been the last who had seen Sir Charles alive, and the firstto dog the new heir when he returned to England. What then? Was he theagent of others or had he some sinister design of his own? What interestcould he have in persecuting the Baskerville family? I thought of thestrange warning clipped out of the leading article of the Times. Wasthat his work or was it possibly the doing of someone who was bent uponcounteracting his schemes? The only conceivable motive was that whichhad been suggested by Sir Henry, that if the family could be scared awaya comfortable and permanent home would be secured for the Barrymores. But surely such an explanation as that would be quite inadequate toaccount for the deep and subtle scheming which seemed to be weaving aninvisible net round the young baronet. Holmes himself had said thatno more complex case had come to him in all the long series of hissensational investigations. I prayed, as I walked back along the gray, lonely road, that my friend might soon be freed from his preoccupationsand able to come down to take this heavy burden of responsibility frommy shoulders. 

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feetbehind me and by a voice which called me by name. I turned, expecting tosee Dr. Mortimer, but to my surprise it was a stranger who was pursuingme. He was a small, slim, clean-shaven, prim-faced man, flaxen-hairedand leanjawed, between thirty and forty years of age, dressed in a graysuit and wearing a straw hat. A tin box for botanical specimens hungover his shoulder and he carried a green butterfly-net in one of hishands. 

"You will, I am sure, excuse my presumption, Dr. Watson, " said he as hecame panting up to where I stood. "Here on the moor we are homely folkand do not wait for formal introductions. You may possibly have heardmy name from our mutual friend, Mortimer. I am Stapleton, of MerripitHouse. "

"Your net and box would have told me as much, " said I, "for I knew thatMr. Stapleton was a naturalist. But how did you know me?"

"I have been calling on Mortimer, and he pointed you out to me fromthe window of his surgery as you passed. As our road lay the same way Ithought that I would overtake you and introduce myself. I trust that SirHenry is none the worse for his journey?"

"He is very well, thank you. "

"We were all rather afraid that after the sad death of Sir Charles thenew baronet might refuse to live here. It is asking much of a wealthyman to come down and bury himself in a place of this kind, but I neednot tell you that it means a very great deal to the countryside. SirHenry has, I suppose, no superstitious fears in the matter?"

"I do not think that it is likely. "

"Of course you know the legend of the fiend dog which haunts thefamily?"

"I have heard it. "

"It is extraordinary how credulous the peasants are about here! Anynumber of them are ready to swear that they have seen such a creatureupon the moor. " He spoke with a smile, but I seemed to read in his eyesthat he took the matter more seriously. "The story took a great holdupon the imagination of Sir Charles, and I have no doubt that it led tohis tragic end. "

"But how?"

"His nerves were so worked up that the appearance of any dog might havehad a fatal effect upon his diseased heart. I fancy that he reallydid see something of the kind upon that last night in the yew alley. Ifeared that some disaster might occur, for I was very fond of the oldman, and I knew that his heart was weak. "

"How did you know that?"

"My friend Mortimer told me. "

"You think, then, that some dog pursued Sir Charles, and that he died offright in consequence?"

"Have you any better explanation?"

"I have not come to any conclusion. "

"Has Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

The words took away my breath for an instant but a glance at the placidface and steadfast eyes of my companion showed that no surprise wasintended. 

"It is useless for us to pretend that we do not know you, Dr. Watson, "said he. "The records of your detective have reached us here, and youcould not celebrate him without being known yourself. When Mortimer toldme your name he could not deny your identity. If you are here, then itfollows that Mr. Sherlock Holmes is interesting himself in the matter, and I am naturally curious to know what view he may take. "

"I am afraid that I cannot answer that question. "

"May I ask if he is going to honour us with a visit himself?"

"He cannot leave town at present. He has other cases which engage hisattention. "

"What a pity! He might throw some light on that which is so dark to us. But as to your own researches, if there is any possible way in which Ican be of service to you I trust that you will command me. If I hadany indication of the nature of your suspicions or how you propose toinvestigate the case, I might perhaps even now give you some aid oradvice. "

"I assure you that I am simply here upon a visit to my friend, SirHenry, and that I need no help of any kind. "

"Excellent!" said Stapleton. "You are perfectly right to be wary anddiscreet. I am justly reproved for what I feel was an unjustifiableintrusion, and I promise you that I will not mention the matter again. "

We had come to a point where a narrow grassy path struck off from theroad and wound away across the moor. A steep, boulder-sprinkled hill layupon the right which had in bygone days been cut into a granite quarry. The face which was turned towards us formed a dark cliff, with ferns andbrambles growing in its niches. From over a distant rise there floated agray plume of smoke. 

"A moderate walk along this moor-path brings us to Merripit House, "said he. "Perhaps you will spare an hour that I may have the pleasure ofintroducing you to my sister. "

My first thought was that I should be by Sir Henry's side. But then Iremembered the pile of papers and bills with which his study table waslittered. It was certain that I could not help with those. And Holmeshad expressly said that I should study the neighbours upon the moor. Iaccepted Stapleton's invitation, and we turned together down the path. 

"It is a wonderful place, the moor, " said he, looking round over theundulating downs, long green rollers, with crests of jagged granitefoaming up into fantastic surges. "You never tire of the moor. Youcannot think the wonderful secrets which it contains. It is so vast, andso barren, and so mysterious. "

"You know it well, then?"

"I have only been here two years. The residents would call me anewcomer. We came shortly after Sir Charles settled. But my tastes ledme to explore every part of the country round, and I should think thatthere are few men who know it better than I do. "

"Is it hard to know?"

"Very hard. You see, for example, this great plain to the north herewith the queer hills breaking out of it. Do you observe anythingremarkable about that?"

"It would be a rare place for a gallop. "

"You would naturally think so and the thought has cost several theirlives before now. You notice those bright green spots scattered thicklyover it?"

"Yes, they seem more fertile than the rest. "

Stapleton laughed. "That is the great Grimpen Mire, " said he. "A falsestep yonder means death to man or beast. Only yesterday I saw one of themoor ponies wander into it. He never came out. I saw his head for quitea long time craning out of the bog-hole, but it sucked him down at last. Even in dry seasons it is a danger to cross it, but after these autumnrains it is an awful place. And yet I can find my way to the very heartof it and return alive. By George, there is another of those miserableponies!"

Something brown was rolling and tossing among the green sedges. Then along, agonized, writhing neck shot upward and a dreadful cry echoedover the moor. It turned me cold with horror, but my companion's nervesseemed to be stronger than mine. 

"It's gone!" said he. "The mire has him. Two in two days, and many more, perhaps, for they get in the way of going there in the dry weather andnever know the difference until the mire has them in its clutches. It'sa bad place, the great Grimpen Mire. "

"And you say you can penetrate it?"

"Yes, there are one or two paths which a very active man can take. Ihave found them out. "

"But why should you wish to go into so horrible a place?"

"Well, you see the hills beyond? They are really islands cut off on allsides by the impassable mire, which has crawled round them in the courseof years. That is where the rare plants and the butterflies are, if youhave the wit to reach them. "

"I shall try my luck some day. "

He looked at me with a surprised face. "For God's sake put such an ideaout of your mind, " said he. "Your blood would be upon my head. I assureyou that there would not be the least chance of your coming back alive. It is only by remembering certain complex landmarks that I am able to doit. "

"Halloa!" I cried. "What is that?"

A long, low moan, indescribably sad, swept over the moor. It filled thewhole air, and yet it was impossible to say whence it came. From adull murmur it swelled into a deep roar, and then sank back into amelancholy, throbbing murmur once again. Stapleton looked at me with acurious expression in his face. 

"Queer place, the moor!" said he. 

"But what is it?"

"The peasants say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for itsprey. I've heard it once or twice before, but never quite so loud. "

I looked round, with a chill of fear in my heart, at the huge swellingplain, mottled with the green patches of rushes. Nothing stirred overthe vast expanse save a pair of ravens, which croaked loudly from a torbehind us. 

"You are an educated man. You don't believe such nonsense as that?" saidI. "What do you think is the cause of so strange a sound?"

"Bogs make queer noises sometimes. It's the mud settling, or the waterrising, or something. "

"No, no, that was a living voice. "

"Well, perhaps it was. Did you ever hear a bittern booming?"

"No, I never did. "

"It's a very rare bird--practically extinct--in England now, but allthings are possible upon the moor. Yes, I should not be surprised tolearn that what we have heard is the cry of the last of the bitterns. "

"It's the weirdest, strangest thing that ever I heard in my life. "

"Yes, it's rather an uncanny place altogether. Look at the hillsideyonder. What do you make of those?"

The whole steep slope was covered with gray circular rings of stone, ascore of them at least. 

"What are they? Sheep-pens?"

"No, they are the homes of our worthy ancestors. Prehistoric man livedthickly on the moor, and as no one in particular has lived there since, we find all his little arrangements exactly as he left them. These arehis wigwams with the roofs off. You can even see his hearth and hiscouch if you have the curiosity to go inside. 

"But it is quite a town. When was it inhabited?"

"Neolithic man--no date. "

"What did he do?"

"He grazed his cattle on these slopes, and he learned to dig for tinwhen the bronze sword began to supersede the stone axe. Look at thegreat trench in the opposite hill. That is his mark. Yes, you will findsome very singular points about the moor, Dr. Watson. Oh, excuse me aninstant! It is surely Cyclopides. "

A small fly or moth had fluttered across our path, and in an instantStapleton was rushing with extraordinary energy and speed in pursuit ofit. To my dismay the creature flew straight for the great mire, and myacquaintance never paused for an instant, bounding from tuft to tuftbehind it, his green net waving in the air. His gray clothes and jerky, zigzag, irregular progress made him not unlike some huge moth himself. I was standing watching his pursuit with a mixture of admiration for hisextraordinary activity and fear lest he should lose his footing in thetreacherous mire, when I heard the sound of steps and, turning round, found a woman near me upon the path. She had come from the direction inwhich the plume of smoke indicated the position of Merripit House, butthe dip of the moor had hid her until she was quite close. 

I could not doubt that this was the Miss Stapleton of whom I hadbeen told, since ladies of any sort must be few upon the moor, and Iremembered that I had heard someone describe her as being a beauty. Thewoman who approached me was certainly that, and of a most uncommon type. There could not have been a greater contrast between brother and sister, for Stapleton was neutral tinted, with light hair and gray eyes, whileshe was darker than any brunette whom I have seen in England--slim, elegant, and tall. She had a proud, finely cut face, so regular that itmight have seemed impassive were it not for the sensitive mouth and thebeautiful dark, eager eyes. With her perfect figure and elegant dressshe was, indeed, a strange apparition upon a lonely moorland path. Hereyes were on her brother as I turned, and then she quickened her pacetowards me. I had raised my hat and was about to make some explanatoryremark when her own words turned all my thoughts into a new channel. 

"Go back!" she said. "Go straight back to London, instantly. "

I could only stare at her in stupid surprise. Her eyes blazed at me, andshe tapped the ground impatiently with her foot. 

"Why should I go back?" I asked. 

"I cannot explain. " She spoke in a low, eager voice, with a curious lispin her utterance. "But for God's sake do what I ask you. Go back andnever set foot upon the moor again. "

"But I have only just come. "

"Man, man!" she cried. "Can you not tell when a warning is for your owngood? Go back to London! Start tonight! Get away from this place at allcosts! Hush, my brother is coming! Not a word of what I have said. Wouldyou mind getting that orchid for me among the mare's-tails yonder? Weare very rich in orchids on the moor, though, of course, you are ratherlate to see the beauties of the place. "

Stapleton had abandoned the chase and came back to us breathing hard andflushed with his exertions. 

"Halloa, Beryl!" said he, and it seemed to me that the tone of hisgreeting was not altogether a cordial one. 

"Well, Jack, you are very hot. "

"Yes, I was chasing a Cyclopides. He is very rare and seldom found inthe late autumn. What a pity that I should have missed him!" He spokeunconcernedly, but his small light eyes glanced incessantly from thegirl to me. 

"You have introduced yourselves, I can see. "

"Yes. I was telling Sir Henry that it was rather late for him to see thetrue beauties of the moor. "

"Why, who do you think this is?"

"I imagine that it must be Sir Henry Baskerville. "

"No, no, " said I. "Only a humble commoner, but his friend. My name isDr. Watson. "

A flush of vexation passed over her expressive face. "We have beentalking at cross purposes, " said she. 

"Why, you had not very much time for talk, " her brother remarked withthe same questioning eyes. 

"I talked as if Dr. Watson were a resident instead of being merely avisitor, " said she. "It cannot much matter to him whether it is earlyor late for the orchids. But you will come on, will you not, and seeMerripit House?"

A short walk brought us to it, a bleak moorland house, once the farmof some grazier in the old prosperous days, but now put into repair andturned into a modern dwelling. An orchard surrounded it, but the trees, as is usual upon the moor, were stunted and nipped, and the effect ofthe whole place was mean and melancholy. We were admitted by a strange, wizened, rusty-coated old manservant, who seemed in keeping withthe house. Inside, however, there were large rooms furnished with anelegance in which I seemed to recognize the taste of the lady. As Ilooked from their windows at the interminable granite-flecked moorrolling unbroken to the farthest horizon I could not but marvel at whatcould have brought this highly educated man and this beautiful woman tolive in such a place. 

"Queer spot to choose, is it not?" said he as if in answer to mythought. "And yet we manage to make ourselves fairly happy, do we not, Beryl?"

"Quite happy, " said she, but there was no ring of conviction in herwords. 

"I had a school, " said Stapleton. "It was in the north country. The workto a man of my temperament was mechanical and uninteresting, but theprivilege of living with youth, of helping to mould those young minds, and of impressing them with one's own character and ideals was very dearto me. However, the fates were against us. A serious epidemic broke outin the school and three of the boys died. It never recovered from theblow, and much of my capital was irretrievably swallowed up. And yet, if it were not for the loss of the charming companionship of the boys, I could rejoice over my own misfortune, for, with my strong tastesfor botany and zoology, I find an unlimited field of work here, and mysister is as devoted to Nature as I am. All this, Dr. Watson, has beenbrought upon your head by your expression as you surveyed the moor outof our window. "

"It certainly did cross my mind that it might be a little dull--less foryou, perhaps, than for your sister. "

"No, no, I am never dull, " said she quickly. 

"We have books, we have our studies, and we have interesting neighbours. Dr. Mortimer is a most learned man in his own line. Poor Sir Charles wasalso an admirable companion. We knew him well and miss him more thanI can tell. Do you think that I should intrude if I were to call thisafternoon and make the acquaintance of Sir Henry?"

"I am sure that he would be delighted. "

"Then perhaps you would mention that I propose to do so. We may inour humble way do something to make things more easy for him until hebecomes accustomed to his new surroundings. Will you come upstairs, Dr. Watson, and inspect my collection of Lepidoptera? I think it is the mostcomplete one in the south-west of England. By the time that you havelooked through them lunch will be almost ready. "

But I was eager to get back to my charge. The melancholy of the moor, the death of the unfortunate pony, the weird sound which had beenassociated with the grim legend of the Baskervilles, all these thingstinged my thoughts with sadness. Then on the top of these more or lessvague impressions there had come the definite and distinct warning ofMiss Stapleton, delivered with such intense earnestness that I couldnot doubt that some grave and deep reason lay behind it. I resistedall pressure to stay for lunch, and I set off at once upon my returnjourney, taking the grass-grown path by which we had come. 

It seems, however, that there must have been some short cut for thosewho knew it, for before I had reached the road I was astounded to seeMiss Stapleton sitting upon a rock by the side of the track. Her facewas beautifully flushed with her exertions and she held her hand to herside. 

"I have run all the way in order to cut you off, Dr. Watson, " said she. "I had not even time to put on my hat. I must not stop, or my brothermay miss me. I wanted to say to you how sorry I am about the stupidmistake I made in thinking that you were Sir Henry. Please forget thewords I said, which have no application whatever to you. "

"But I can't forget them, Miss Stapleton, " said I. "I am Sir Henry'sfriend, and his welfare is a very close concern of mine. Tell me why itwas that you were so eager that Sir Henry should return to London. "

"A woman's whim, Dr. Watson. When you know me better you will understandthat I cannot always give reasons for what I say or do. "

"No, no. I remember the thrill in your voice. I remember the look inyour eyes. Please, please, be frank with me, Miss Stapleton, for eversince I have been here I have been conscious of shadows all round me. Life has become like that great Grimpen Mire, with little green patcheseverywhere into which one may sink and with no guide to point the track. Tell me then what it was that you meant, and I will promise to conveyyour warning to Sir Henry. "

An expression of irresolution passed for an instant over her face, buther eyes had hardened again when she answered me. 

"You make too much of it, Dr. Watson, " said she. "My brother and Iwere very much shocked by the death of Sir Charles. We knew him veryintimately, for his favourite walk was over the moor to our house. Hewas deeply impressed with the curse which hung over the family, and whenthis tragedy came I naturally felt that there must be some groundsfor the fears which he had expressed. I was distressed therefore whenanother member of the family came down to live here, and I felt that heshould be warned of the danger which he will run. That was all which Iintended to convey. 

"But what is the danger?"

"You know the story of the hound?"

"I do not believe in such nonsense. "

"But I do. If you have any influence with Sir Henry, take him away froma place which has always been fatal to his family. The world is wide. Why should he wish to live at the place of danger?"

"Because it is the place of danger. That is Sir Henry's nature. I fearthat unless you can give me some more definite information than this itwould be impossible to get him to move. "

"I cannot say anything definite, for I do not know anything definite. "

"I would ask you one more question, Miss Stapleton. If you meant nomore than this when you first spoke to me, why should you not wish yourbrother to overhear what you said? There is nothing to which he, oranyone else, could object. "

"My brother is very anxious to have the Hall inhabited, for he thinks itis for the good of the poor folk upon the moor. He would be very angryif he knew that I have said anything which might induce Sir Henry togo away. But I have done my duty now and I will say no more. I must goback, or he will miss me and suspect that I have seen you. Good-bye!"She turned and had disappeared in a few minutes among the scatteredboulders, while I, with my soul full of vague fears, pursued my way toBaskerville Hall. 

Chapter 8. First Report of Dr. Watson

From this point onward I will follow the course of events bytranscribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before meon the table. One page is missing, but otherwise they are exactlyas written and show my feelings and suspicions of the moment moreaccurately than my memory, clear as it is upon these tragic events, canpossibly do. 

Baskerville Hall, October 13th. MY DEAR HOLMES: My previous lettersand telegrams have kept you pretty well up to date as to all that hasoccurred in this most God-forsaken corner of the world. The longer onestays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one's soul, its vastness, and also its grim charm. When you are once out upon itsbosom you have left all traces of modern England behind you, but, on theother hand, you are conscious everywhere of the homes and the work ofthe prehistoric people. On all sides of you as you walk are the housesof these forgotten folk, with their graves and the huge monoliths whichare supposed to have marked their temples. As you look at their graystone huts against the scarred hillsides you leave your own age behindyou, and if you were to see a skin-clad, hairy man crawl out from thelow door fitting a flint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow, youwould feel that his presence there was more natural than your own. Thestrange thing is that they should have lived so thickly on what mustalways have been most unfruitful soil. I am no antiquarian, but I couldimagine that they were some unwarlike and harried race who were forcedto accept that which none other would occupy. 

All this, however, is foreign to the mission on which you sent me andwill probably be very uninteresting to your severely practical mind. I can still remember your complete indifference as to whether the sunmoved round the earth or the earth round the sun. Let me, therefore, return to the facts concerning Sir Henry Baskerville. 

If you have not had any report within the last few days it is becauseup to today there was nothing of importance to relate. Then a verysurprising circumstance occurred, which I shall tell you in due course. But, first of all, I must keep you in touch with some of the otherfactors in the situation. 

One of these, concerning which I have said little, is the escapedconvict upon the moor. There is strong reason now to believe that hehas got right away, which is a considerable relief to the lonelyhouseholders of this district. A fortnight has passed since his flight, during which he has not been seen and nothing has been heard of him. Itis surely inconceivable that he could have held out upon the moor duringall that time. Of course, so far as his concealment goes there isno difficulty at all. Any one of these stone huts would give him ahiding-place. But there is nothing to eat unless he were to catch andslaughter one of the moor sheep. We think, therefore, that he has gone, and the outlying farmers sleep the better in consequence. 

We are four able-bodied men in this household, so that we could takegood care of ourselves, but I confess that I have had uneasy momentswhen I have thought of the Stapletons. They live miles from any help. There are one maid, an old manservant, the sister, and the brother, thelatter not a very strong man. They would be helpless in the hands of adesperate fellow like this Notting Hill criminal if he could once effectan entrance. Both Sir Henry and I were concerned at their situation, andit was suggested that Perkins the groom should go over to sleep there, but Stapleton would not hear of it. 

The fact is that our friend, the baronet, begins to display aconsiderable interest in our fair neighbour. It is not to be wonderedat, for time hangs heavily in this lonely spot to an active man likehim, and she is a very fascinating and beautiful woman. There issomething tropical and exotic about her which forms a singular contrastto her cool and unemotional brother. Yet he also gives the idea ofhidden fires. He has certainly a very marked influence over her, forI have seen her continually glance at him as she talked as if seekingapprobation for what she said. I trust that he is kind to her. There isa dry glitter in his eyes and a firm set of his thin lips, which goeswith a positive and possibly a harsh nature. You would find him aninteresting study. 

He came over to call upon Baskerville on that first day, and the verynext morning he took us both to show us the spot where the legend of thewicked Hugo is supposed to have had its origin. It was an excursion ofsome miles across the moor to a place which is so dismal that it mighthave suggested the story. We found a short valley between rugged torswhich led to an open, grassy space flecked over with the white cottongrass. In the middle of it rose two great stones, worn and sharpened atthe upper end until they looked like the huge corroding fangs of somemonstrous beast. In every way it corresponded with the scene of the oldtragedy. Sir Henry was much interested and asked Stapleton morethan once whether he did really believe in the possibility of theinterference of the supernatural in the affairs of men. He spokelightly, but it was evident that he was very much in earnest. Stapletonwas guarded in his replies, but it was easy to see that he said lessthan he might, and that he would not express his whole opinion out ofconsideration for the feelings of the baronet. He told us of similarcases, where families had suffered from some evil influence, and he leftus with the impression that he shared the popular view upon the matter. 

On our way back we stayed for lunch at Merripit House, and it was therethat Sir Henry made the acquaintance of Miss Stapleton. From the firstmoment that he saw her he appeared to be strongly attracted by her, andI am much mistaken if the feeling was not mutual. He referred to heragain and again on our walk home, and since then hardly a day has passedthat we have not seen something of the brother and sister. They dinehere tonight, and there is some talk of our going to them next week. Onewould imagine that such a match would be very welcome to Stapleton, andyet I have more than once caught a look of the strongest disapprobationin his face when Sir Henry has been paying some attention to his sister. He is much attached to her, no doubt, and would lead a lonely lifewithout her, but it would seem the height of selfishness if he were tostand in the way of her making so brilliant a marriage. Yet I am certainthat he does not wish their intimacy to ripen into love, and I haveseveral times observed that he has taken pains to prevent them frombeing tete-a-tete. By the way, your instructions to me never to allowSir Henry to go out alone will become very much more onerous if a loveaffair were to be added to our other difficulties. My popularity wouldsoon suffer if I were to carry out your orders to the letter. 

The other day--Thursday, to be more exact--Dr. Mortimer lunched with us. He has been excavating a barrow at Long Down and has got a prehistoricskull which fills him with great joy. Never was there such asingle-minded enthusiast as he! The Stapletons came in afterwards, andthe good doctor took us all to the yew alley at Sir Henry's request toshow us exactly how everything occurred upon that fatal night. It isa long, dismal walk, the yew alley, between two high walls of clippedhedge, with a narrow band of grass upon either side. At the far end isan old tumble-down summer-house. Halfway down is the moor-gate, wherethe old gentleman left his cigar-ash. It is a white wooden gate witha latch. Beyond it lies the wide moor. I remembered your theory of theaffair and tried to picture all that had occurred. As the old man stoodthere he saw something coming across the moor, something which terrifiedhim so that he lost his wits and ran and ran until he died of sheerhorror and exhaustion. There was the long, gloomy tunnel down whichhe fled. And from what? A sheep-dog of the moor? Or a spectral hound, black, silent, and monstrous? Was there a human agency in the matter?Did the pale, watchful Barrymore know more than he cared to say? It wasall dim and vague, but always there is the dark shadow of crime behindit. 

One other neighbour I have met since I wrote last. This is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who lives some four miles to the south of us. He is an elderly man, red-faced, white-haired, and choleric. His passionis for the British law, and he has spent a large fortune in litigation. He fights for the mere pleasure of fighting and is equally ready to takeup either side of a question, so that it is no wonder that he has foundit a costly amusement. Sometimes he will shut up a right of way and defythe parish to make him open it. At others he will with his own handstear down some other man's gate and declare that a path has existedthere from time immemorial, defying the owner to prosecute him fortrespass. He is learned in old manorial and communal rights, and heapplies his knowledge sometimes in favour of the villagers of Fernworthyand sometimes against them, so that he is periodically either carried intriumph down the village street or else burned in effigy, according tohis latest exploit. He is said to have about seven lawsuits upon hishands at present, which will probably swallow up the remainder of hisfortune and so draw his sting and leave him harmless for the future. Apart from the law he seems a kindly, good-natured person, and Ionly mention him because you were particular that I should send somedescription of the people who surround us. He is curiously employedat present, for, being an amateur astronomer, he has an excellenttelescope, with which he lies upon the roof of his own house and sweepsthe moor all day in the hope of catching a glimpse of the escapedconvict. If he would confine his energies to this all would be well, butthere are rumours that he intends to prosecute Dr. Mortimer for openinga grave without the consent of the next of kin because he dug up theNeolithic skull in the barrow on Long Down. He helps to keep our livesfrom being monotonous and gives a little comic relief where it is badlyneeded. 

And now, having brought you up to date in the escaped convict, theStapletons, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland, of Lafter Hall, let me end onthat which is most important and tell you more about the Barrymores, andespecially about the surprising development of last night. 

First of all about the test telegram, which you sent from London inorder to make sure that Barrymore was really here. I have alreadyexplained that the testimony of the postmaster shows that the test wasworthless and that we have no proof one way or the other. I told SirHenry how the matter stood, and he at once, in his downright fashion, had Barrymore up and asked him whether he had received the telegramhimself. Barrymore said that he had. 

"Did the boy deliver it into your own hands?" asked Sir Henry. 

Barrymore looked surprised, and considered for a little time. 

"No, " said he, "I was in the box-room at the time, and my wife broughtit up to me. "

"Did you answer it yourself?"

"No; I told my wife what to answer and she went down to write it. "

In the evening he recurred to the subject of his own accord. 

"I could not quite understand the object of your questions this morning, Sir Henry, " said he. "I trust that they do not mean that I have doneanything to forfeit your confidence?"

Sir Henry had to assure him that it was not so and pacify him by givinghim a considerable part of his old wardrobe, the London outfit havingnow all arrived. 

Mrs. Barrymore is of interest to me. She is a heavy, solid person, verylimited, intensely respectable, and inclined to be puritanical. Youcould hardly conceive a less emotional subject. Yet I have told you how, on the first night here, I heard her sobbing bitterly, and since thenI have more than once observed traces of tears upon her face. Some deepsorrow gnaws ever at her heart. Sometimes I wonder if she has a guiltymemory which haunts her, and sometimes I suspect Barrymore of being adomestic tyrant. I have always felt that there was something singularand questionable in this man's character, but the adventure of lastnight brings all my suspicions to a head. 

And yet it may seem a small matter in itself. You are aware that I amnot a very sound sleeper, and since I have been on guard in this housemy slumbers have been lighter than ever. Last night, about two in themorning, I was aroused by a stealthy step passing my room. I rose, opened my door, and peeped out. A long black shadow was trailing downthe corridor. It was thrown by a man who walked softly down the passagewith a candle held in his hand. He was in shirt and trousers, with nocovering to his feet. I could merely see the outline, but his heighttold me that it was Barrymore. He walked very slowly and circumspectly, and there was something indescribably guilty and furtive in his wholeappearance. 

I have told you that the corridor is broken by the balcony which runsround the hall, but that it is resumed upon the farther side. I waiteduntil he had passed out of sight and then I followed him. When I cameround the balcony he had reached the end of the farther corridor, andI could see from the glimmer of light through an open door that hehad entered one of the rooms. Now, all these rooms are unfurnished andunoccupied so that his expedition became more mysterious than ever. Thelight shone steadily as if he were standing motionless. I crept downthe passage as noiselessly as I could and peeped round the corner of thedoor. 

Barrymore was crouching at the window with the candle held against theglass. His profile was half turned towards me, and his face seemed to berigid with expectation as he stared out into the blackness of the moor. For some minutes he stood watching intently. Then he gave a deep groanand with an impatient gesture he put out the light. Instantly I made myway back to my room, and very shortly came the stealthy steps passingonce more upon their return journey. Long afterwards when I had falleninto a light sleep I heard a key turn somewhere in a lock, but I couldnot tell whence the sound came. What it all means I cannot guess, butthere is some secret business going on in this house of gloom whichsooner or later we shall get to the bottom of. I do not trouble you withmy theories, for you asked me to furnish you only with facts. I havehad a long talk with Sir Henry this morning, and we have made a plan ofcampaign founded upon my observations of last night. I will not speakabout it just now, but it should make my next report interestingreading. 

Chapter 9. The Light upon the Moor [Second Report of Dr. Watson]

Baskerville Hall, Oct. 15th. MY DEAR HOLMES: If I was compelled toleave you without much news during the early days of my mission you mustacknowledge that I am making up for lost time, and that events are nowcrowding thick and fast upon us. In my last report I ended upon my topnote with Barrymore at the window, and now I have quite a budget alreadywhich will, unless I am much mistaken, considerably surprise you. Thingshave taken a turn which I could not have anticipated. In some ways theyhave within the last forty-eight hours become much clearer and in someways they have become more complicated. But I will tell you all and youshall judge for yourself. 

Before breakfast on the morning following my adventure I went down thecorridor and examined the room in which Barrymore had been on the nightbefore. The western window through which he had stared so intently has, I noticed, one peculiarity above all other windows in the house--itcommands the nearest outlook on to the moor. There is an opening betweentwo trees which enables one from this point of view to look right downupon it, while from all the other windows it is only a distant glimpsewhich can be obtained. It follows, therefore, that Barrymore, sinceonly this window would serve the purpose, must have been looking out forsomething or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark, so that Ican hardly imagine how he could have hoped to see anyone. It had struckme that it was possible that some love intrigue was on foot. That wouldhave accounted for his stealthy movements and also for the uneasinessof his wife. The man is a striking-looking fellow, very well equippedto steal the heart of a country girl, so that this theory seemed tohave something to support it. That opening of the door which I had heardafter I had returned to my room might mean that he had gone out to keepsome clandestine appointment. So I reasoned with myself in the morning, and I tell you the direction of my suspicions, however much the resultmay have shown that they were unfounded. 

But whatever the true explanation of Barrymore's movements might be, I felt that the responsibility of keeping them to myself until I couldexplain them was more than I could bear. I had an interview with thebaronet in his study after breakfast, and I told him all that I hadseen. He was less surprised than I had expected. 

"I knew that Barrymore walked about nights, and I had a mind to speakto him about it, " said he. "Two or three times I have heard his steps inthe passage, coming and going, just about the hour you name. "

"Perhaps then he pays a visit every night to that particular window, " Isuggested. 

"Perhaps he does. If so, we should be able to shadow him and see whatit is that he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmes would do if hewere here. "

"I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest, " said I. "Hewould follow Barrymore and see what he did. "

"Then we shall do it together. "

"But surely he would hear us. "

"The man is rather deaf, and in any case we must take our chance ofthat. We'll sit up in my room tonight and wait until he passes. " SirHenry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident that he hailedthe adventure as a relief to his somewhat quiet life upon the moor. 

The baronet has been in communication with the architect who preparedthe plans for Sir Charles, and with a contractor from London, so that wemay expect great changes to begin here soon. There have been decoratorsand furnishers up from Plymouth, and it is evident that our friendhas large ideas and means to spare no pains or expense to restore thegrandeur of his family. When the house is renovated and refurnished, allthat he will need will be a wife to make it complete. Between ourselvesthere are pretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if the ladyis willing, for I have seldom seen a man more infatuated with a womanthan he is with our beautiful neighbour, Miss Stapleton. And yet thecourse of true love does not run quite as smoothly as one would underthe circumstances expect. Today, for example, its surface was brokenby a very unexpected ripple, which has caused our friend considerableperplexity and annoyance. 

After the conversation which I have quoted about Barrymore, Sir Henryput on his hat and prepared to go out. As a matter of course I did thesame. 

"What, are you coming, Watson?" he asked, looking at me in a curiousway. 

"That depends on whether you are going on the moor, " said I. 

"Yes, I am. "

"Well, you know what my instructions are. I am sorry to intrude, butyou heard how earnestly Holmes insisted that I should not leave you, andespecially that you should not go alone upon the moor. "

Sir Henry put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasant smile. 

"My dear fellow, " said he, "Holmes, with all his wisdom, did not foreseesome things which have happened since I have been on the moor. Youunderstand me? I am sure that you are the last man in the world whowould wish to be a spoil-sport. I must go out alone. "

It put me in a most awkward position. I was at a loss what to say orwhat to do, and before I had made up my mind he picked up his cane andwas gone. 

But when I came to think the matter over my conscience reproached mebitterly for having on any pretext allowed him to go out of my sight. I imagined what my feelings would be if I had to return to you and toconfess that some misfortune had occurred through my disregard for yourinstructions. I assure you my cheeks flushed at the very thought. Itmight not even now be too late to overtake him, so I set off at once inthe direction of Merripit House. 

I hurried along the road at the top of my speed without seeing anythingof Sir Henry, until I came to the point where the moor path branchesoff. There, fearing that perhaps I had come in the wrong direction afterall, I mounted a hill from which I could command a view--the same hillwhich is cut into the dark quarry. Thence I saw him at once. He was onthe moor path about a quarter of a mile off, and a lady was by his sidewho could only be Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there was alreadyan understanding between them and that they had met by appointment. Theywere walking slowly along in deep conversation, and I saw her makingquick little movements of her hands as if she were very earnest in whatshe was saying, while he listened intently, and once or twice shook hishead in strong dissent. I stood among the rocks watching them, very muchpuzzled as to what I should do next. To follow them and break into theirintimate conversation seemed to be an outrage, and yet my clear duty wasnever for an instant to let him out of my sight. To act the spy upon afriend was a hateful task. Still, I could see no better course than toobserve him from the hill, and to clear my conscience by confessing tohim afterwards what I had done. It is true that if any sudden danger hadthreatened him I was too far away to be of use, and yet I am sure thatyou will agree with me that the position was very difficult, and thatthere was nothing more which I could do. 

Our friend, Sir Henry, and the lady had halted on the path and werestanding deeply absorbed in their conversation, when I was suddenlyaware that I was not the only witness of their interview. A wisp ofgreen floating in the air caught my eye, and another glance showed methat it was carried on a stick by a man who was moving among the brokenground. It was Stapleton with his butterfly-net. He was very much closerto the pair than I was, and he appeared to be moving in their direction. At this instant Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side. Hisarm was round her, but it seemed to me that she was straining away fromhim with her face averted. He stooped his head to hers, and she raisedone hand as if in protest. Next moment I saw them spring apart and turnhurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause of the interruption. He wasrunning wildly towards them, his absurd net dangling behind him. Hegesticulated and almost danced with excitement in front of the lovers. What the scene meant I could not imagine, but it seemed to me thatStapleton was abusing Sir Henry, who offered explanations, which becamemore angry as the other refused to accept them. The lady stood by inhaughty silence. Finally Stapleton turned upon his heel and beckoned ina peremptory way to his sister, who, after an irresolute glance at SirHenry, walked off by the side of her brother. The naturalist's angrygestures showed that the lady was included in his displeasure. Thebaronet stood for a minute looking after them, and then he walked slowlyback the way that he had come, his head hanging, the very picture ofdejection. 

What all this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply ashamed tohave witnessed so intimate a scene without my friend's knowledge. I randown the hill therefore and met the baronet at the bottom. His face wasflushed with anger and his brows were wrinkled, like one who is at hiswit's ends what to do. 

"Halloa, Watson! Where have you dropped from?" said he. "You don't meanto say that you came after me in spite of all?"

I explained everything to him: how I had found it impossible to remainbehind, how I had followed him, and how I had witnessed all thathad occurred. For an instant his eyes blazed at me, but my franknessdisarmed his anger, and he broke at last into a rather rueful laugh. 

"You would have thought the middle of that prairie a fairly safeplace for a man to be private, " said he, "but, by thunder, the wholecountryside seems to have been out to see me do my wooing--and a mightypoor wooing at that! Where had you engaged a seat?"

"I was on that hill. "

"Quite in the back row, eh? But her brother was well up to the front. Did you see him come out on us?"

"Yes, I did. "

"Did he ever strike you as being crazy--this brother of hers?"

"I can't say that he ever did. "

"I dare say not. I always thought him sane enough until today, but youcan take it from me that either he or I ought to be in a straitjacket. What's the matter with me, anyhow? You've lived near me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Is there anything that would prevent mefrom making a good husband to a woman that I loved?"

"I should say not. "

"He can't object to my worldly position, so it must be myself that hehas this down on. What has he against me? I never hurt man or woman inmy life that I know of. And yet he would not so much as let me touch thetips of her fingers. "

"Did he say so?"

"That, and a deal more. I tell you, Watson, I've only known her thesefew weeks, but from the first I just felt that she was made for me, and she, too--she was happy when she was with me, and that I'll swear. There's a light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words. But hehas never let us get together and it was only today for the first timethat I saw a chance of having a few words with her alone. She was gladto meet me, but when she did it was not love that she would talk about, and she wouldn't have let me talk about it either if she could havestopped it. She kept coming back to it that this was a place of danger, and that she would never be happy until I had left it. I told her thatsince I had seen her I was in no hurry to leave it, and that if shereally wanted me to go, the only way to work it was for her to arrangeto go with me. With that I offered in as many words to marry her, butbefore she could answer, down came this brother of hers, running at uswith a face on him like a madman. He was just white with rage, and thoselight eyes of his were blazing with fury. What was I doing with thelady? How dared I offer her attentions which were distasteful to her?Did I think that because I was a baronet I could do what I liked? If hehad not been her brother I should have known better how to answer him. As it was I told him that my feelings towards his sister were such asI was not ashamed of, and that I hoped that she might honour me bybecoming my wife. That seemed to make the matter no better, so then Ilost my temper too, and I answered him rather more hotly than I shouldperhaps, considering that she was standing by. So it ended by his goingoff with her, as you saw, and here am I as badly puzzled a man as anyin this county. Just tell me what it all means, Watson, and I'll owe youmore than ever I can hope to pay. "

I tried one or two explanations, but, indeed, I was completely puzzledmyself. Our friend's title, his fortune, his age, his character, and hisappearance are all in his favour, and I know nothing against him unlessit be this dark fate which runs in his family. That his advances shouldbe rejected so brusquely without any reference to the lady's own wishesand that the lady should accept the situation without protest is veryamazing. However, our conjectures were set at rest by a visit fromStapleton himself that very afternoon. He had come to offer apologiesfor his rudeness of the morning, and after a long private interview withSir Henry in his study the upshot of their conversation was that thebreach is quite healed, and that we are to dine at Merripit House nextFriday as a sign of it. 

"I don't say now that he isn't a crazy man, " said Sir Henry; "I can'tforget the look in his eyes when he ran at me this morning, but I mustallow that no man could make a more handsome apology than he has done. "

"Did he give any explanation of his conduct?"

"His sister is everything in his life, he says. That is natural enough, and I am glad that he should understand her value. They have always beentogether, and according to his account he has been a very lonely manwith only her as a companion, so that the thought of losing her wasreally terrible to him. He had not understood, he said, that I wasbecoming attached to her, but when he saw with his own eyes that it wasreally so, and that she might be taken away from him, it gave him such ashock that for a time he was not responsible for what he said or did. He was very sorry for all that had passed, and he recognized how foolishand how selfish it was that he should imagine that he could hold abeautiful woman like his sister to himself for her whole life. If shehad to leave him he had rather it was to a neighbour like myself than toanyone else. But in any case it was a blow to him and it would take himsome time before he could prepare himself to meet it. He would withdrawall opposition upon his part if I would promise for three months to letthe matter rest and to be content with cultivating the lady's friendshipduring that time without claiming her love. This I promised, and so thematter rests. "

So there is one of our small mysteries cleared up. It is something tohave touched bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering. We know now why Stapleton looked with disfavour upon his sister'ssuitor--even when that suitor was so eligible a one as Sir Henry. Andnow I pass on to another thread which I have extricated out of thetangled skein, the mystery of the sobs in the night, of the tear-stainedface of Mrs. Barrymore, of the secret journey of the butler to thewestern lattice window. Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell methat I have not disappointed you as an agent--that you do not regretthe confidence which you showed in me when you sent me down. All thesethings have by one night's work been thoroughly cleared. 

I have said "by one night's work, " but, in truth, it was by two nights'work, for on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat up with Sir Henryin his rooms until nearly three o'clock in the morning, but no sound ofany sort did we hear except the chiming clock upon the stairs. It wasa most melancholy vigil and ended by each of us falling asleep in ourchairs. Fortunately we were not discouraged, and we determined to tryagain. The next night we lowered the lamp and sat smoking cigaretteswithout making the least sound. It was incredible how slowly the hourscrawled by, and yet we were helped through it by the same sort ofpatient interest which the hunter must feel as he watches the trap intowhich he hopes the game may wander. One struck, and two, and we hadalmost for the second time given it up in despair when in an instant weboth sat bolt upright in our chairs with all our weary senses keenly onthe alert once more. We had heard the creak of a step in the passage. 

Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in thedistance. Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set out inpursuit. Already our man had gone round the gallery and the corridor wasall in darkness. Softly we stole along until we had come into the otherwing. We were just in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, black-beardedfigure, his shoulders rounded as he tiptoed down the passage. Then hepassed through the same door as before, and the light of the candleframed it in the darkness and shot one single yellow beam across thegloom of the corridor. We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying everyplank before we dared to put our whole weight upon it. We had taken theprecaution of leaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the old boardssnapped and creaked beneath our tread. Sometimes it seemed impossiblethat he should fail to hear our approach. However, the man isfortunately rather deaf, and he was entirely preoccupied in that whichhe was doing. When at last we reached the door and peeped through wefound him crouching at the window, candle in hand, his white, intentface pressed against the pane, exactly as I had seen him two nightsbefore. 

We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is a man to whomthe most direct way is always the most natural. He walked into the room, and as he did so Barrymore sprang up from the window with a sharp hissof his breath and stood, livid and trembling, before us. His dark eyes, glaring out of the white mask of his face, were full of horror andastonishment as he gazed from Sir Henry to me. 

"What are you doing here, Barrymore?"

"Nothing, sir. " His agitation was so great that he could hardly speak, and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking of his candle. "Itwas the window, sir. I go round at night to see that they are fastened. "

"On the second floor?"

"Yes, sir, all the windows. "

"Look here, Barrymore, " said Sir Henry sternly, "we have made up ourminds to have the truth out of you, so it will save you trouble to tellit sooner rather than later. Come, now! No lies! What were you doing atthat window?"

The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and he wrung his handstogether like one who is in the last extremity of doubt and misery. 

"I was doing no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to the window. "

"And why were you holding a candle to the window?"

"Don't ask me, Sir Henry--don't ask me! I give you my word, sir, that itis not my secret, and that I cannot tell it. If it concerned no one butmyself I would not try to keep it from you. "

A sudden idea occurred to me, and I took the candle from the tremblinghand of the butler. 

"He must have been holding it as a signal, " said I. "Let us see ifthere is any answer. " I held it as he had done, and stared out into thedarkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern the black bank of thetrees and the lighter expanse of the moor, for the moon was behind theclouds. And then I gave a cry of exultation, for a tiny pinpoint ofyellow light had suddenly transfixed the dark veil, and glowed steadilyin the centre of the black square framed by the window. 

"There it is!" I cried. 

"No, no, sir, it is nothing--nothing at all!" the butler broke in; "Iassure you, sir--"

"Move your light across the window, Watson!" cried the baronet. "See, the other moves also! Now, you rascal, do you deny that it is a signal?Come, speak up! Who is your confederate out yonder, and what is thisconspiracy that is going on?"

The man's face became openly defiant. "It is my business, and not yours. I will not tell. "

"Then you leave my employment right away. "

"Very good, sir. If I must I must. "

"And you go in disgrace. By thunder, you may well be ashamed ofyourself. Your family has lived with mine for over a hundred years underthis roof, and here I find you deep in some dark plot against me. "

"No, no, sir; no, not against you!" It was a woman's voice, and Mrs. Barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than her husband, was standingat the door. Her bulky figure in a shawl and skirt might have been comicwere it not for the intensity of feeling upon her face. 

"We have to go, Eliza. This is the end of it. You can pack our things, "said the butler. 

"Oh, John, John, have I brought you to this? It is my doing, SirHenry--all mine. He has done nothing except for my sake and because Iasked him. "

"Speak out, then! What does it mean?"

"My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot let him perish atour very gates. The light is a signal to him that food is ready for him, and his light out yonder is to show the spot to which to bring it. "

"Then your brother is--"

"The escaped convict, sir--Selden, the criminal. "

"That's the truth, sir, " said Barrymore. "I said that it was not mysecret and that I could not tell it to you. But now you have heard it, and you will see that if there was a plot it was not against you. "

This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions at nightand the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both stared at the woman inamazement. Was it possible that this stolidly respectable person was ofthe same blood as one of the most notorious criminals in the country?

"Yes, sir, my name was Selden, and he is my younger brother. We humouredhim too much when he was a lad and gave him his own way in everythinguntil he came to think that the world was made for his pleasure, andthat he could do what he liked in it. Then as he grew older he metwicked companions, and the devil entered into him until he broke mymother's heart and dragged our name in the dirt. From crime to crimehe sank lower and lower until it is only the mercy of God which hassnatched him from the scaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the littlecurly-headed boy that I had nursed and played with as an elder sisterwould. That was why he broke prison, sir. He knew that I was here andthat we could not refuse to help him. When he dragged himself here onenight, weary and starving, with the warders hard at his heels, whatcould we do? We took him in and fed him and cared for him. Then youreturned, sir, and my brother thought he would be safer on the moor thananywhere else until the hue and cry was over, so he lay in hiding there. But every second night we made sure if he was still there by putting alight in the window, and if there was an answer my husband took out somebread and meat to him. Every day we hoped that he was gone, but as longas he was there we could not desert him. That is the whole truth, as Iam an honest Christian woman and you will see that if there is blame inthe matter it does not lie with my husband but with me, for whose sakehe has done all that he has. "

The woman's words came with an intense earnestness which carriedconviction with them. 

"Is this true, Barrymore?"

"Yes, Sir Henry. Every word of it. "

"Well, I cannot blame you for standing by your own wife. Forget whatI have said. Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk further aboutthis matter in the morning. "

When they were gone we looked out of the window again. Sir Henry hadflung it open, and the cold night wind beat in upon our faces. Far awayin the black distance there still glowed that one tiny point of yellowlight. 

"I wonder he dares, " said Sir Henry. 

"It may be so placed as to be only visible from here. "

"Very likely. How far do you think it is?"

"Out by the Cleft Tor, I think. "

"Not more than a mile or two off. "

"Hardly that. "

"Well, it cannot be far if Barrymore had to carry out the food to it. And he is waiting, this villain, beside that candle. By thunder, Watson, I am going out to take that man!"

The same thought had crossed my own mind. It was not as if theBarrymores had taken us into their confidence. Their secret had beenforced from them. The man was a danger to the community, an unmitigatedscoundrel for whom there was neither pity nor excuse. We were only doingour duty in taking this chance of putting him back where he could do noharm. With his brutal and violent nature, others would have to pay theprice if we held our hands. Any night, for example, our neighbours theStapletons might be attacked by him, and it may have been the thought ofthis which made Sir Henry so keen upon the adventure. 

"I will come, " said I. 

"Then get your revolver and put on your boots. The sooner we start thebetter, as the fellow may put out his light and be off. "

In five minutes we were outside the door, starting upon our expedition. We hurried through the dark shrubbery, amid the dull moaning of theautumn wind and the rustle of the falling leaves. The night air washeavy with the smell of damp and decay. Now and again the moon peepedout for an instant, but clouds were driving over the face of the sky, and just as we came out on the moor a thin rain began to fall. The lightstill burned steadily in front. 

"Are you armed?" I asked. 

"I have a hunting-crop. "

"We must close in on him rapidly, for he is said to be a desperatefellow. We shall take him by surprise and have him at our mercy beforehe can resist. "

"I say, Watson, " said the baronet, "what would Holmes say to this? Howabout that hour of darkness in which the power of evil is exalted?"

As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vast gloomof the moor that strange cry which I had already heard upon the bordersof the great Grimpen Mire. It came with the wind through the silenceof the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sadmoan in which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole airthrobbing with it, strident, wild, and menacing. The baronet caught mysleeve and his face glimmered white through the darkness. 

"My God, what's that, Watson?"

"I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor. I heard it oncebefore. "

It died away, and an absolute silence closed in upon us. We stoodstraining our ears, but nothing came. 

"Watson, " said the baronet, "it was the cry of a hound. "

My blood ran cold in my veins, for there was a break in his voice whichtold of the sudden horror which had seized him. 

"What do they call this sound?" he asked. 

"Who?"

"The folk on the countryside. "

"Oh, they are ignorant people. Why should you mind what they call it?"

"Tell me, Watson. What do they say of it?"

I hesitated but could not escape the question. 

"They say it is the cry of the Hound of the Baskervilles. "

He groaned and was silent for a few moments. 

"A hound it was, " he said at last, "but it seemed to come from milesaway, over yonder, I think. "

"It was hard to say whence it came. "

"It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't that the direction of the greatGrimpen Mire?"

"Yes, it is. "

"Well, it was up there. Come now, Watson, didn't you think yourself thatit was the cry of a hound? I am not a child. You need not fear to speakthe truth. "

"Stapleton was with me when I heard it last. He said that it might bethe calling of a strange bird. "

"No, no, it was a hound. My God, can there be some truth in all thesestories? Is it possible that I am really in danger from so dark a cause?You don't believe it, do you, Watson?"

"No, no. "

"And yet it was one thing to laugh about it in London, and it is anotherto stand out here in the darkness of the moor and to hear such a cry asthat. And my uncle! There was the footprint of the hound beside him ashe lay. It all fits together. I don't think that I am a coward, Watson, but that sound seemed to freeze my very blood. Feel my hand!"

It was as cold as a block of marble. 

"You'll be all right tomorrow. "

"I don't think I'll get that cry out of my head. What do you advise thatwe do now?"

"Shall we turn back?"

"No, by thunder; we have come out to get our man, and we will do it. Weafter the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely as not, after us. Comeon! We'll see it through if all the fiends of the pit were loose uponthe moor. "

We stumbled slowly along in the darkness, with the black loom of thecraggy hills around us, and the yellow speck of light burning steadilyin front. There is nothing so deceptive as the distance of a light upona pitch-dark night, and sometimes the glimmer seemed to be far away uponthe horizon and sometimes it might have been within a few yards of us. But at last we could see whence it came, and then we knew that we wereindeed very close. A guttering candle was stuck in a crevice of therocks which flanked it on each side so as to keep the wind from itand also to prevent it from being visible, save in the direction ofBaskerville Hall. A boulder of granite concealed our approach, andcrouching behind it we gazed over it at the signal light. It was strangeto see this single candle burning there in the middle of the moor, withno sign of life near it--just the one straight yellow flame and thegleam of the rock on each side of it. 

"What shall we do now?" whispered Sir Henry. 

"Wait here. He must be near his light. Let us see if we can get aglimpse of him. "

The words were hardly out of my mouth when we both saw him. Over therocks, in the crevice of which the candle burned, there was thrust outan evil yellow face, a terrible animal face, all seamed and scored withvile passions. Foul with mire, with a bristling beard, and hung withmatted hair, it might well have belonged to one of those old savageswho dwelt in the burrows on the hillsides. The light beneath him wasreflected in his small, cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right andleft through the darkness like a crafty and savage animal who has heardthe steps of the hunters. 

Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It may have been thatBarrymore had some private signal which we had neglected to give, orthe fellow may have had some other reason for thinking that all was notwell, but I could read his fears upon his wicked face. Any instant hemight dash out the light and vanish in the darkness. I sprang forwardtherefore, and Sir Henry did the same. At the same moment the convictscreamed out a curse at us and hurled a rock which splintered up againstthe boulder which had sheltered us. I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, strongly built figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run. At the same moment by a lucky chance the moon broke through the clouds. We rushed over the brow of the hill, and there was our man running withgreat speed down the other side, springing over the stones in his waywith the activity of a mountain goat. A lucky long shot of my revolvermight have crippled him, but I had brought it only to defend myself ifattacked and not to shoot an unarmed man who was running away. 

We were both swift runners and in fairly good training, but we soonfound that we had no chance of overtaking him. We saw him for a longtime in the moonlight until he was only a small speck moving swiftlyamong the boulders upon the side of a distant hill. We ran and ran untilwe were completely blown, but the space between us grew ever wider. Finally we stopped and sat panting on two rocks, while we watched himdisappearing in the distance. 

And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strange andunexpected thing. We had risen from our rocks and were turning to gohome, having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was low upon theright, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor stood up against thelower curve of its silver disc. There, outlined as black as an ebonystatue on that shining background, I saw the figure of a man upon thetor. Do not think that it was a delusion, Holmes. I assure you thatI have never in my life seen anything more clearly. As far as I couldjudge, the figure was that of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legsa little separated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as if he werebrooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granite which laybefore him. He might have been the very spirit of that terrible place. It was not the convict. This man was far from the place where thelatter had disappeared. Besides, he was a much taller man. With a cryof surprise I pointed him out to the baronet, but in the instant duringwhich I had turned to grasp his arm the man was gone. There was thesharp pinnacle of granite still cutting the lower edge of the moon, butits peak bore no trace of that silent and motionless figure. 

I wished to go in that direction and to search the tor, but it was somedistance away. The baronet's nerves were still quivering from that cry, which recalled the dark story of his family, and he was not in the moodfor fresh adventures. He had not seen this lonely man upon the tor andcould not feel the thrill which his strange presence and his commandingattitude had given to me. "A warder, no doubt, " said he. "The moorhas been thick with them since this fellow escaped. " Well, perhaps hisexplanation may be the right one, but I should like to have some furtherproof of it. Today we mean to communicate to the Princetown people wherethey should look for their missing man, but it is hard lines thatwe have not actually had the triumph of bringing him back as ourown prisoner. Such are the adventures of last night, and you mustacknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well inthe matter of a report. Much of what I tell you is no doubt quiteirrelevant, but still I feel that it is best that I should let you haveall the facts and leave you to select for yourself those which willbe of most service to you in helping you to your conclusions. We arecertainly making some progress. So far as the Barrymores go we havefound the motive of their actions, and that has cleared up the situationvery much. But the moor with its mysteries and its strange inhabitantsremains as inscrutable as ever. Perhaps in my next I may be able tothrow some light upon this also. Best of all would it be if you couldcome down to us. In any case you will hear from me again in the courseof the next few days. 

Chapter 10. Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson

So far I have been able to quote from the reports which I have forwardedduring these early days to Sherlock Holmes. Now, however, I have arrivedat a point in my narrative where I am compelled to abandon this methodand to trust once more to my recollections, aided by the diary whichI kept at the time. A few extracts from the latter will carry me on tothose scenes which are indelibly fixed in every detail upon my memory. Iproceed, then, from the morning which followed our abortive chase of theconvict and our other strange experiences upon the moor. 

October 16th. A dull and foggy day with a drizzle of rain. The houseis banked in with rolling clouds, which rise now and then to show thedreary curves of the moor, with thin, silver veins upon the sides of thehills, and the distant boulders gleaming where the light strikes upontheir wet faces. It is melancholy outside and in. The baronet is in ablack reaction after the excitements of the night. I am conscious myselfof a weight at my heart and a feeling of impending danger--ever presentdanger, which is the more terrible because I am unable to define it. 

And have I not cause for such a feeling? Consider the long sequence ofincidents which have all pointed to some sinister influence which isat work around us. There is the death of the last occupant of the Hall, fulfilling so exactly the conditions of the family legend, and thereare the repeated reports from peasants of the appearance of a strangecreature upon the moor. Twice I have with my own ears heard the soundwhich resembled the distant baying of a hound. It is incredible, impossible, that it should really be outside the ordinary laws ofnature. A spectral hound which leaves material footmarks and fills theair with its howling is surely not to be thought of. Stapleton mayfall in with such a superstition, and Mortimer also, but if I have onequality upon earth it is common sense, and nothing will persuade me tobelieve in such a thing. To do so would be to descend to the level ofthese poor peasants, who are not content with a mere fiend dog but mustneeds describe him with hell-fire shooting from his mouth and eyes. Holmes would not listen to such fancies, and I am his agent. But factsare facts, and I have twice heard this crying upon the moor. Supposethat there were really some huge hound loose upon it; that would go farto explain everything. But where could such a hound lie concealed, wheredid it get its food, where did it come from, how was it that no onesaw it by day? It must be confessed that the natural explanation offersalmost as many difficulties as the other. And always, apart from thehound, there is the fact of the human agency in London, the man in thecab, and the letter which warned Sir Henry against the moor. This atleast was real, but it might have been the work of a protecting friendas easily as of an enemy. Where is that friend or enemy now? Has heremained in London, or has he followed us down here? Could he--could hebe the stranger whom I saw upon the tor?

It is true that I have had only the one glance at him, and yet there aresome things to which I am ready to swear. He is no one whom I have seendown here, and I have now met all the neighbours. The figure was fartaller than that of Stapleton, far thinner than that of Frankland. Barrymore it might possibly have been, but we had left him behind us, and I am certain that he could not have followed us. A stranger then isstill dogging us, just as a stranger dogged us in London. We have nevershaken him off. If I could lay my hands upon that man, then at last wemight find ourselves at the end of all our difficulties. To this onepurpose I must now devote all my energies. 

My first impulse was to tell Sir Henry all my plans. My second andwisest one is to play my own game and speak as little as possible toanyone. He is silent and distrait. His nerves have been strangely shakenby that sound upon the moor. I will say nothing to add to his anxieties, but I will take my own steps to attain my own end. 

We had a small scene this morning after breakfast. Barrymore asked leaveto speak with Sir Henry, and they were closeted in his study some littletime. Sitting in the billiard-room I more than once heard the sound ofvoices raised, and I had a pretty good idea what the point was which wasunder discussion. After a time the baronet opened his door and calledfor me. "Barrymore considers that he has a grievance, " he said. "Hethinks that it was unfair on our part to hunt his brother-in-law downwhen he, of his own free will, had told us the secret. "

The butler was standing very pale but very collected before us. 

"I may have spoken too warmly, sir, " said he, "and if I have, I am surethat I beg your pardon. At the same time, I was very much surprised whenI heard you two gentlemen come back this morning and learned that youhad been chasing Selden. The poor fellow has enough to fight againstwithout my putting more upon his track. "

"If you had told us of your own free will it would have been a differentthing, " said the baronet, "you only told us, or rather your wife onlytold us, when it was forced from you and you could not help yourself. "

"I didn't think you would have taken advantage of it, Sir Henry--indeedI didn't. "

"The man is a public danger. There are lonely houses scattered over themoor, and he is a fellow who would stick at nothing. You only want toget a glimpse of his face to see that. Look at Mr. Stapleton's house, for example, with no one but himself to defend it. There's no safety foranyone until he is under lock and key. "

"He'll break into no house, sir. I give you my solemn word upon that. But he will never trouble anyone in this country again. I assure you, Sir Henry, that in a very few days the necessary arrangements will havebeen made and he will be on his way to South America. For God's sake, sir, I beg of you not to let the police know that he is still on themoor. They have given up the chase there, and he can lie quiet until theship is ready for him. You can't tell on him without getting my wife andme into trouble. I beg you, sir, to say nothing to the police. "

"What do you say, Watson?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "If he were safely out of the country it wouldrelieve the tax-payer of a burden. "

"But how about the chance of his holding someone up before he goes?"

"He would not do anything so mad, sir. We have provided him with allthat he can want. To commit a crime would be to show where he washiding. "

"That is true, " said Sir Henry. "Well, Barrymore--"

"God bless you, sir, and thank you from my heart! It would have killedmy poor wife had he been taken again. "

"I guess we are aiding and abetting a felony, Watson? But, after whatwe have heard I don't feel as if I could give the man up, so there is anend of it. All right, Barrymore, you can go. "

With a few broken words of gratitude the man turned, but he hesitatedand then came back. 

"You've been so kind to us, sir, that I should like to do the best Ican for you in return. I know something, Sir Henry, and perhaps I shouldhave said it before, but it was long after the inquest that I found itout. I've never breathed a word about it yet to mortal man. It's aboutpoor Sir Charles's death. "

The baronet and I were both upon our feet. "Do you know how he died?"

"No, sir, I don't know that. "

"What then?"

"I know why he was at the gate at that hour. It was to meet a woman. "

"To meet a woman! He?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And the woman's name?"

"I can't give you the name, sir, but I can give you the initials. Herinitials were L. L. "

"How do you know this, Barrymore?"

"Well, Sir Henry, your uncle had a letter that morning. He had usually agreat many letters, for he was a public man and well known for his kindheart, so that everyone who was in trouble was glad to turn to him. Butthat morning, as it chanced, there was only this one letter, so I tookthe more notice of it. It was from Coombe Tracey, and it was addressedin a woman's hand. "

"Well?"

"Well, sir, I thought no more of the matter, and never would have donehad it not been for my wife. Only a few weeks ago she was cleaning outSir Charles's study--it had never been touched since his death--and shefound the ashes of a burned letter in the back of the grate. The greaterpart of it was charred to pieces, but one little slip, the end of apage, hung together, and the writing could still be read, though it wasgray on a black ground. It seemed to us to be a postscript at the endof the letter and it said: 'Please, please, as you are a gentleman, burnthis letter, and be at the gate by ten o clock. Beneath it were signedthe initials L. L. "

"Have you got that slip?"

"No, sir, it crumbled all to bits after we moved it. "

"Had Sir Charles received any other letters in the same writing?"

"Well, sir, I took no particular notice of his letters. I should nothave noticed this one, only it happened to come alone. "

"And you have no idea who L. L. Is?"

"No, sir. No more than you have. But I expect if we could lay our handsupon that lady we should know more about Sir Charles's death. "

"I cannot understand, Barrymore, how you came to conceal this importantinformation. "

"Well, sir, it was immediately after that our own trouble came to us. And then again, sir, we were both of us very fond of Sir Charles, as wewell might be considering all that he has done for us. To rake thisup couldn't help our poor master, and it's well to go carefully whenthere's a lady in the case. Even the best of us--"

"You thought it might injure his reputation?"

"Well, sir, I thought no good could come of it. But now you have beenkind to us, and I feel as if it would be treating you unfairly not totell you all that I know about the matter. "

"Very good, Barrymore; you can go. " When the butler had left us SirHenry turned to me. "Well, Watson, what do you think of this new light?"

"It seems to leave the darkness rather blacker than before. "

"So I think. But if we can only trace L. L. It should clear up the wholebusiness. We have gained that much. We know that there is someone whohas the facts if we can only find her. What do you think we should do?"

"Let Holmes know all about it at once. It will give him the clue forwhich he has been seeking. I am much mistaken if it does not bring himdown. "

I went at once to my room and drew up my report of the morning'sconversation for Holmes. It was evident to me that he had been very busyof late, for the notes which I had from Baker Street were few and short, with no comments upon the information which I had supplied and hardlyany reference to my mission. No doubt his blackmailing case is absorbingall his faculties. And yet this new factor must surely arrest hisattention and renew his interest. I wish that he were here. 

October 17th. All day today the rain poured down, rustling on the ivyand dripping from the eaves. I thought of the convict out upon thebleak, cold, shelterless moor. Poor devil! Whatever his crimes, he hassuffered something to atone for them. And then I thought of that otherone--the face in the cab, the figure against the moon. Was he also outin that deluged--the unseen watcher, the man of darkness? In the eveningI put on my waterproof and I walked far upon the sodden moor, full ofdark imaginings, the rain beating upon my face and the wind whistlingabout my ears. God help those who wander into the great mire now, foreven the firm uplands are becoming a morass. I found the black tor uponwhich I had seen the solitary watcher, and from its craggy summit Ilooked out myself across the melancholy downs. Rain squalls driftedacross their russet face, and the heavy, slate-coloured clouds hunglow over the landscape, trailing in gray wreaths down the sides of thefantastic hills. In the distant hollow on the left, half hidden by themist, the two thin towers of Baskerville Hall rose above the trees. Theywere the only signs of human life which I could see, save only thoseprehistoric huts which lay thickly upon the slopes of the hills. Nowherewas there any trace of that lonely man whom I had seen on the same spottwo nights before. 

As I walked back I was overtaken by Dr. Mortimer driving in his dog-cartover a rough moorland track which led from the outlying farmhouse ofFoulmire. He has been very attentive to us, and hardly a day has passedthat he has not called at the Hall to see how we were getting on. Heinsisted upon my climbing into his dog-cart, and he gave me a lifthomeward. I found him much troubled over the disappearance of his littlespaniel. It had wandered on to the moor and had never come back. Igave him such consolation as I might, but I thought of the pony on theGrimpen Mire, and I do not fancy that he will see his little dog again. 

"By the way, Mortimer, " said I as we jolted along the rough road, "Isuppose there are few people living within driving distance of this whomyou do not know?"

"Hardly any, I think. "

"Can you, then, tell me the name of any woman whose initials are L. L. ?"

He thought for a few minutes. 

"No, " said he. "There are a few gipsies and labouring folk for whomI can't answer, but among the farmers or gentry there is no one whoseinitials are those. Wait a bit though, " he added after a pause. "Thereis Laura Lyons--her initials are L. L. --but she lives in Coombe Tracey. "

"Who is she?" I asked. 

"She is Frankland's daughter. "

"What! Old Frankland the crank?"

"Exactly. She married an artist named Lyons, who came sketching on themoor. He proved to be a blackguard and deserted her. The fault from whatI hear may not have been entirely on one side. Her father refused tohave anything to do with her because she had married without his consentand perhaps for one or two other reasons as well. So, between the oldsinner and the young one the girl has had a pretty bad time. "

"How does she live?"

"I fancy old Frankland allows her a pittance, but it cannot be more, for his own affairs are considerably involved. Whatever she may havedeserved one could not allow her to go hopelessly to the bad. Her storygot about, and several of the people here did something to enable herto earn an honest living. Stapleton did for one, and Sir Charles foranother. I gave a trifle myself. It was to set her up in a typewritingbusiness. "

He wanted to know the object of my inquiries, but I managed to satisfyhis curiosity without telling him too much, for there is no reason whywe should take anyone into our confidence. Tomorrow morning I shallfind my way to Coombe Tracey, and if I can see this Mrs. Laura Lyons, ofequivocal reputation, a long step will have been made towards clearingone incident in this chain of mysteries. I am certainly developing thewisdom of the serpent, for when Mortimer pressed his questions to aninconvenient extent I asked him casually to what type Frankland's skullbelonged, and so heard nothing but craniology for the rest of our drive. I have not lived for years with Sherlock Holmes for nothing. 

I have only one other incident to record upon this tempestuous andmelancholy day. This was my conversation with Barrymore just now, whichgives me one more strong card which I can play in due time. 

Mortimer had stayed to dinner, and he and the baronet played ecarteafterwards. The butler brought me my coffee into the library, and I tookthe chance to ask him a few questions. 

"Well, " said I, "has this precious relation of yours departed, or is hestill lurking out yonder?"

"I don't know, sir. I hope to heaven that he has gone, for he hasbrought nothing but trouble here! I've not heard of him since I left outfood for him last, and that was three days ago. "

"Did you see him then?"

"No, sir, but the food was gone when next I went that way. "

"Then he was certainly there?"

"So you would think, sir, unless it was the other man who took it. "

I sat with my coffee-cup halfway to my lips and stared at Barrymore. 

"You know that there is another man then?"

"Yes, sir; there is another man upon the moor. "

"Have you seen him?"

"No, sir. "

"How do you know of him then?"

"Selden told me of him, sir, a week ago or more. He's in hiding, too, but he's not a convict as far as I can make out. I don't like it, Dr. Watson--I tell you straight, sir, that I don't like it. " He spoke with asudden passion of earnestness. 

"Now, listen to me, Barrymore! I have no interest in this matter butthat of your master. I have come here with no object except to help him. Tell me, frankly, what it is that you don't like. "

Barrymore hesitated for a moment, as if he regretted his outburst orfound it difficult to express his own feelings in words. 

"It's all these goings-on, sir, " he cried at last, waving his handtowards the rain-lashed window which faced the moor. "There's foul playsomewhere, and there's black villainy brewing, to that I'll swear!Very glad I should be, sir, to see Sir Henry on his way back to Londonagain!"

"But what is it that alarms you?"

"Look at Sir Charles's death! That was bad enough, for all that thecoroner said. Look at the noises on the moor at night. There's not aman would cross it after sundown if he was paid for it. Look at thisstranger hiding out yonder, and watching and waiting! What's he waitingfor? What does it mean? It means no good to anyone of the name ofBaskerville, and very glad I shall be to be quit of it all on the daythat Sir Henry's new servants are ready to take over the Hall. "

"But about this stranger, " said I. "Can you tell me anything abouthim? What did Selden say? Did he find out where he hid, or what he wasdoing?"

"He saw him once or twice, but he is a deep one and gives nothing away. At first he thought that he was the police, but soon he found that hehad some lay of his own. A kind of gentleman he was, as far as he couldsee, but what he was doing he could not make out. "

"And where did he say that he lived?"

"Among the old houses on the hillside--the stone huts where the old folkused to live. "

"But how about his food?"

"Selden found out that he has got a lad who works for him and brings allhe needs. I dare say he goes to Coombe Tracey for what he wants. "

"Very good, Barrymore. We may talk further of this some other time. "When the butler had gone I walked over to the black window, and I lookedthrough a blurred pane at the driving clouds and at the tossing outlineof the wind-swept trees. It is a wild night indoors, and what must itbe in a stone hut upon the moor. What passion of hatred can it be whichleads a man to lurk in such a place at such a time! And what deep andearnest purpose can he have which calls for such a trial! There, in thathut upon the moor, seems to lie the very centre of that problem whichhas vexed me so sorely. I swear that another day shall not have passedbefore I have done all that man can do to reach the heart of themystery. 

Chapter 11. The Man on the Tor

The extract from my private diary which forms the last chapter hasbrought my narrative up to the eighteenth of October, a time when thesestrange events began to move swiftly towards their terrible conclusion. The incidents of the next few days are indelibly graven upon myrecollection, and I can tell them without reference to the notes madeat the time. I start them from the day which succeeded that upon whichI had established two facts of great importance, the one that Mrs. LauraLyons of Coombe Tracey had written to Sir Charles Baskerville and madean appointment with him at the very place and hour that he met hisdeath, the other that the lurking man upon the moor was to be foundamong the stone huts upon the hillside. With these two facts in mypossession I felt that either my intelligence or my courage must bedeficient if I could not throw some further light upon these darkplaces. 

I had no opportunity to tell the baronet what I had learned about Mrs. Lyons upon the evening before, for Dr. Mortimer remained with him atcards until it was very late. At breakfast, however, I informed himabout my discovery and asked him whether he would care to accompanyme to Coombe Tracey. At first he was very eager to come, but on secondthoughts it seemed to both of us that if I went alone the results mightbe better. The more formal we made the visit the less information wemight obtain. I left Sir Henry behind, therefore, not without someprickings of conscience, and drove off upon my new quest. 

When I reached Coombe Tracey I told Perkins to put up the horses, andI made inquiries for the lady whom I had come to interrogate. I had nodifficulty in finding her rooms, which were central and well appointed. A maid showed me in without ceremony, and as I entered the sitting-rooma lady, who was sitting before a Remington typewriter, sprang up with apleasant smile of welcome. Her face fell, however, when she saw thatI was a stranger, and she sat down again and asked me the object of myvisit. 

The first impression left by Mrs. Lyons was one of extreme beauty. Hereyes and hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and her cheeks, thoughconsiderably freckled, were flushed with the exquisite bloom of thebrunette, the dainty pink which lurks at the heart of the sulphur rose. Admiration was, I repeat, the first impression. But the second wascriticism. There was something subtly wrong with the face, somecoarseness of expression, some hardness, perhaps, of eye, some loosenessof lip which marred its perfect beauty. But these, of course, areafterthoughts. At the moment I was simply conscious that I was inthe presence of a very handsome woman, and that she was asking me thereasons for my visit. I had not quite understood until that instant howdelicate my mission was. 

"I have the pleasure, " said I, "of knowing your father. "

It was a clumsy introduction, and the lady made me feel it. "Thereis nothing in common between my father and me, " she said. "I owe himnothing, and his friends are not mine. If it were not for the late SirCharles Baskerville and some other kind hearts I might have starved forall that my father cared. "

"It was about the late Sir Charles Baskerville that I have come here tosee you. "

The freckles started out on the lady's face. 

"What can I tell you about him?" she asked, and her fingers playednervously over the stops of her typewriter. 

"You knew him, did you not?"

"I have already said that I owe a great deal to his kindness. If I amable to support myself it is largely due to the interest which he tookin my unhappy situation. "

"Did you correspond with him?"

The lady looked quickly up with an angry gleam in her hazel eyes. 

"What is the object of these questions?" she asked sharply. 

"The object is to avoid a public scandal. It is better that I should askthem here than that the matter should pass outside our control. "

She was silent and her face was still very pale. At last she looked upwith something reckless and defiant in her manner. 

"Well, I'll answer, " she said. "What are your questions?"

"Did you correspond with Sir Charles?"

"I certainly wrote to him once or twice to acknowledge his delicacy andhis generosity. "

"Have you the dates of those letters?"

"No. "

"Have you ever met him?"

"Yes, once or twice, when he came into Coombe Tracey. He was a veryretiring man, and he preferred to do good by stealth. "

"But if you saw him so seldom and wrote so seldom, how did he knowenough about your affairs to be able to help you, as you say that he hasdone?"

She met my difficulty with the utmost readiness. 

"There were several gentlemen who knew my sad history and united tohelp me. One was Mr. Stapleton, a neighbour and intimate friend of SirCharles's. He was exceedingly kind, and it was through him that SirCharles learned about my affairs. "

I knew already that Sir Charles Baskerville had made Stapleton hisalmoner upon several occasions, so the lady's statement bore the impressof truth upon it. 

"Did you ever write to Sir Charles asking him to meet you?" I continued. 

Mrs. Lyons flushed with anger again. "Really, sir, this is a veryextraordinary question. "

"I am sorry, madam, but I must repeat it. "

"Then I answer, certainly not. "

"Not on the very day of Sir Charles's death?"

The flush had faded in an instant, and a deathly face was before me. Herdry lips could not speak the "No" which I saw rather than heard. 

"Surely your memory deceives you, " said I. "I could even quote a passageof your letter. It ran 'Please, please, as you are a gentleman, burnthis letter, and be at the gate by ten o'clock. '"

I thought that she had fainted, but she recovered herself by a supremeeffort. 

"Is there no such thing as a gentleman?" she gasped. 

"You do Sir Charles an injustice. He did burn the letter. But sometimesa letter may be legible even when burned. You acknowledge now that youwrote it?"

"Yes, I did write it, " she cried, pouring out her soul in a torrent ofwords. "I did write it. Why should I deny it? I have no reason to beashamed of it. I wished him to help me. I believed that if I had aninterview I could gain his help, so I asked him to meet me. "

"But why at such an hour?"

"Because I had only just learned that he was going to London next dayand might be away for months. There were reasons why I could not getthere earlier. "

"But why a rendezvous in the garden instead of a visit to the house?"

"Do you think a woman could go alone at that hour to a bachelor'shouse?"

"Well, what happened when you did get there?"

"I never went. "

"Mrs. Lyons!"

"No, I swear it to you on all I hold sacred. I never went. Somethingintervened to prevent my going. "

"What was that?"

"That is a private matter. I cannot tell it. "

"You acknowledge then that you made an appointment with Sir Charles atthe very hour and place at which he met his death, but you deny that youkept the appointment. "

"That is the truth. "

Again and again I cross-questioned her, but I could never get past thatpoint. 

"Mrs. Lyons, " said I as I rose from this long and inconclusiveinterview, "you are taking a very great responsibility and puttingyourself in a very false position by not making an absolutely cleanbreast of all that you know. If I have to call in the aid of the policeyou will find how seriously you are compromised. If your position isinnocent, why did you in the first instance deny having written to SirCharles upon that date?"

"Because I feared that some false conclusion might be drawn from it andthat I might find myself involved in a scandal. "

"And why were you so pressing that Sir Charles should destroy yourletter?"

"If you have read the letter you will know. "

"I did not say that I had read all the letter. "

"You quoted some of it. "

"I quoted the postscript. The letter had, as I said, been burned and itwas not all legible. I ask you once again why it was that you were sopressing that Sir Charles should destroy this letter which he receivedon the day of his death. "

"The matter is a very private one. "

"The more reason why you should avoid a public investigation. "

"I will tell you, then. If you have heard anything of my unhappy historyyou will know that I made a rash marriage and had reason to regret it. "

"I have heard so much. "

"My life has been one incessant persecution from a husband whom I abhor. The law is upon his side, and every day I am faced by the possibilitythat he may force me to live with him. At the time that I wrote thisletter to Sir Charles I had learned that there was a prospect ofmy regaining my freedom if certain expenses could be met. It meanteverything to me--peace of mind, happiness, self-respect--everything. Iknew Sir Charles's generosity, and I thought that if he heard the storyfrom my own lips he would help me. "

"Then how is it that you did not go?"

"Because I received help in the interval from another source. "

"Why then, did you not write to Sir Charles and explain this?"

"So I should have done had I not seen his death in the paper nextmorning. "

The woman's story hung coherently together, and all my questions wereunable to shake it. I could only check it by finding if she had, indeed, instituted divorce proceedings against her husband at or about the timeof the tragedy. 

It was unlikely that she would dare to say that she had not been toBaskerville Hall if she really had been, for a trap would be necessaryto take her there, and could not have returned to Coombe Tracey untilthe early hours of the morning. Such an excursion could not be keptsecret. The probability was, therefore, that she was telling the truth, or, at least, a part of the truth. I came away baffled and disheartened. Once again I had reached that dead wall which seemed to be built acrossevery path by which I tried to get at the object of my mission. And yetthe more I thought of the lady's face and of her manner the more I feltthat something was being held back from me. Why should she turn so pale?Why should she fight against every admission until it was forced fromher? Why should she have been so reticent at the time of the tragedy?Surely the explanation of all this could not be as innocent as shewould have me believe. For the moment I could proceed no farther in thatdirection, but must turn back to that other clue which was to be soughtfor among the stone huts upon the moor. 

And that was a most vague direction. I realized it as I drove backand noted how hill after hill showed traces of the ancient people. Barrymore's only indication had been that the stranger lived in one ofthese abandoned huts, and many hundreds of them are scattered throughoutthe length and breadth of the moor. But I had my own experience for aguide since it had shown me the man himself standing upon the summit ofthe Black Tor. That, then, should be the centre of my search. From thereI should explore every hut upon the moor until I lighted upon the rightone. If this man were inside it I should find out from his own lips, atthe point of my revolver if necessary, who he was and why he had doggedus so long. He might slip away from us in the crowd of Regent Street, but it would puzzle him to do so upon the lonely moor. On the otherhand, if I should find the hut and its tenant should not be within it Imust remain there, however long the vigil, until he returned. Holmes hadmissed him in London. It would indeed be a triumph for me if I could runhim to earth where my master had failed. 

Luck had been against us again and again in this inquiry, but now atlast it came to my aid. And the messenger of good fortune was none otherthan Mr. Frankland, who was standing, gray-whiskered and red-faced, outside the gate of his garden, which opened on to the highroad alongwhich I travelled. 

"Good-day, Dr. Watson, " cried he with unwonted good humour, "you mustreally give your horses a rest and come in to have a glass of wine andto congratulate me. "

My feelings towards him were very far from being friendly after what Ihad heard of his treatment of his daughter, but I was anxious to sendPerkins and the wagonette home, and the opportunity was a good one. Ialighted and sent a message to Sir Henry that I should walk over in timefor dinner. Then I followed Frankland into his dining-room. 

"It is a great day for me, sir--one of the red-letter days of my life, "he cried with many chuckles. "I have brought off a double event. I meanto teach them in these parts that law is law, and that there is a manhere who does not fear to invoke it. I have established a right of waythrough the centre of old Middleton's park, slap across it, sir, withina hundred yards of his own front door. What do you think of that? We'llteach these magnates that they cannot ride roughshod over the rightsof the commoners, confound them! And I've closed the wood where theFernworthy folk used to picnic. These infernal people seem to think thatthere are no rights of property, and that they can swarm where they likewith their papers and their bottles. Both cases decided, Dr. Watson, andboth in my favour. I haven't had such a day since I had Sir John Morlandfor trespass because he shot in his own warren. "

"How on earth did you do that?"

"Look it up in the books, sir. It will repay reading--Frankland v. Morland, Court of Queen's Bench. It cost me 200 pounds, but I got myverdict. "

"Did it do you any good?"

"None, sir, none. I am proud to say that I had no interest in thematter. I act entirely from a sense of public duty. I have no doubt, forexample, that the Fernworthy people will burn me in effigy tonight. I told the police last time they did it that they should stop thesedisgraceful exhibitions. The County Constabulary is in a scandalousstate, sir, and it has not afforded me the protection to which I amentitled. The case of Frankland v. Regina will bring the matter beforethe attention of the public. I told them that they would have occasionto regret their treatment of me, and already my words have come true. "

"How so?" I asked. 

The old man put on a very knowing expression. "Because I could tell themwhat they are dying to know; but nothing would induce me to help therascals in any way. "

I had been casting round for some excuse by which I could get awayfrom his gossip, but now I began to wish to hear more of it. I had seenenough of the contrary nature of the old sinner to understand that anystrong sign of interest would be the surest way to stop his confidences. 

"Some poaching case, no doubt?" said I with an indifferent manner. 

"Ha, ha, my boy, a very much more important matter than that! What aboutthe convict on the moor?"

I stared. "You don't mean that you know where he is?" said I. 

"I may not know exactly where he is, but I am quite sure that I couldhelp the police to lay their hands on him. Has it never struck you thatthe way to catch that man was to find out where he got his food and sotrace it to him?"

He certainly seemed to be getting uncomfortably near the truth. "Nodoubt, " said I; "but how do you know that he is anywhere upon the moor?"

"I know it because I have seen with my own eyes the messenger who takeshim his food. "

My heart sank for Barrymore. It was a serious thing to be in the powerof this spiteful old busybody. But his next remark took a weight from mymind. 

"You'll be surprised to hear that his food is taken to him by a child. I see him every day through my telescope upon the roof. He passes alongthe same path at the same hour, and to whom should he be going except tothe convict?"

Here was luck indeed! And yet I suppressed all appearance of interest. Achild! Barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied by a boy. It wason his track, and not upon the convict's, that Frankland had stumbled. If I could get his knowledge it might save me a long and weary hunt. Butincredulity and indifference were evidently my strongest cards. 

"I should say that it was much more likely that it was the son of one ofthe moorland shepherds taking out his father's dinner. "

The least appearance of opposition struck fire out of the old autocrat. His eyes looked malignantly at me, and his gray whiskers bristled likethose of an angry cat. 

"Indeed, sir!" said he, pointing out over the wide-stretching moor. "Doyou see that Black Tor over yonder? Well, do you see the low hill beyondwith the thornbush upon it? It is the stoniest part of the whole moor. Is that a place where a shepherd would be likely to take his station?Your suggestion, sir, is a most absurd one. "

I meekly answered that I had spoken without knowing all the facts. Mysubmission pleased him and led him to further confidences. 

"You may be sure, sir, that I have very good grounds before I come to anopinion. I have seen the boy again and again with his bundle. Everyday, and sometimes twice a day, I have been able--but wait a moment, Dr. Watson. Do my eyes deceive me, or is there at the present momentsomething moving upon that hillside?"

It was several miles off, but I could distinctly see a small dark dotagainst the dull green and gray. 

"Come, sir, come!" cried Frankland, rushing upstairs. "You will see withyour own eyes and judge for yourself. "

The telescope, a formidable instrument mounted upon a tripod, stood uponthe flat leads of the house. Frankland clapped his eye to it and gave acry of satisfaction. 

"Quick, Dr. Watson, quick, before he passes over the hill!"

There he was, sure enough, a small urchin with a little bundle upon hisshoulder, toiling slowly up the hill. When he reached the crest I sawthe ragged uncouth figure outlined for an instant against the cold bluesky. He looked round him with a furtive and stealthy air, as one whodreads pursuit. Then he vanished over the hill. 

"Well! Am I right?"

"Certainly, there is a boy who seems to have some secret errand. "

"And what the errand is even a county constable could guess. But notone word shall they have from me, and I bind you to secrecy also, Dr. Watson. Not a word! You understand!"

"Just as you wish. "

"They have treated me shamefully--shamefully. When the facts come out inFrankland v. Regina I venture to think that a thrill of indignation willrun through the country. Nothing would induce me to help the police inany way. For all they cared it might have been me, instead of my effigy, which these rascals burned at the stake. Surely you are not going! Youwill help me to empty the decanter in honour of this great occasion!"

But I resisted all his solicitations and succeeded in dissuading himfrom his announced intention of walking home with me. I kept the roadas long as his eye was on me, and then I struck off across the moor andmade for the stony hill over which the boy had disappeared. Everythingwas working in my favour, and I swore that it should not be through lackof energy or perseverance that I should miss the chance which fortunehad thrown in my way. 

The sun was already sinking when I reached the summit of the hill, andthe long slopes beneath me were all golden-green on one side and grayshadow on the other. A haze lay low upon the farthest sky-line, out ofwhich jutted the fantastic shapes of Belliver and Vixen Tor. Over thewide expanse there was no sound and no movement. One great gray bird, agull or curlew, soared aloft in the blue heaven. He and I seemed to bethe only living things between the huge arch of the sky and the desertbeneath it. The barren scene, the sense of loneliness, and the mysteryand urgency of my task all struck a chill into my heart. The boy wasnowhere to be seen. But down beneath me in a cleft of the hills therewas a circle of the old stone huts, and in the middle of them therewas one which retained sufficient roof to act as a screen against theweather. My heart leaped within me as I saw it. This must be the burrowwhere the stranger lurked. At last my foot was on the threshold of hishiding place--his secret was within my grasp. 

As I approached the hut, walking as warily as Stapleton would do whenwith poised net he drew near the settled butterfly, I satisfied myselfthat the place had indeed been used as a habitation. A vague pathwayamong the boulders led to the dilapidated opening which served as adoor. All was silent within. The unknown might be lurking there, orhe might be prowling on the moor. My nerves tingled with the sense ofadventure. Throwing aside my cigarette, I closed my hand upon the buttof my revolver and, walking swiftly up to the door, I looked in. Theplace was empty. 

But there were ample signs that I had not come upon a false scent. Thiswas certainly where the man lived. Some blankets rolled in a waterprooflay upon that very stone slab upon which Neolithic man had onceslumbered. The ashes of a fire were heaped in a rude grate. Beside itlay some cooking utensils and a bucket half-full of water. A litter ofempty tins showed that the place had been occupied for some time, and Isaw, as my eyes became accustomed to the checkered light, a pannikin anda half-full bottle of spirits standing in the corner. In the middle ofthe hut a flat stone served the purpose of a table, and upon this stooda small cloth bundle--the same, no doubt, which I had seen through thetelescope upon the shoulder of the boy. It contained a loaf of bread, a tinned tongue, and two tins of preserved peaches. As I set it downagain, after having examined it, my heart leaped to see that beneath itthere lay a sheet of paper with writing upon it. I raised it, and thiswas what I read, roughly scrawled in pencil: "Dr. Watson has gone toCoombe Tracey. "

For a minute I stood there with the paper in my hands thinking out themeaning of this curt message. It was I, then, and not Sir Henry, who wasbeing dogged by this secret man. He had not followed me himself, buthe had set an agent--the boy, perhaps--upon my track, and this was hisreport. Possibly I had taken no step since I had been upon the moorwhich had not been observed and reported. Always there was this feelingof an unseen force, a fine net drawn round us with infinite skill anddelicacy, holding us so lightly that it was only at some supreme momentthat one realized that one was indeed entangled in its meshes. 

If there was one report there might be others, so I looked round the hutin search of them. There was no trace, however, of anything of the kind, nor could I discover any sign which might indicate the character orintentions of the man who lived in this singular place, save that hemust be of Spartan habits and cared little for the comforts of life. When I thought of the heavy rains and looked at the gaping roof Iunderstood how strong and immutable must be the purpose which had kepthim in that inhospitable abode. Was he our malignant enemy, or was he bychance our guardian angel? I swore that I would not leave the hut untilI knew. 

Outside the sun was sinking low and the west was blazing with scarletand gold. Its reflection was shot back in ruddy patches by the distantpools which lay amid the great Grimpen Mire. There were the two towersof Baskerville Hall, and there a distant blur of smoke which marked thevillage of Grimpen. Between the two, behind the hill, was the houseof the Stapletons. All was sweet and mellow and peaceful in the goldenevening light, and yet as I looked at them my soul shared none of thepeace of Nature but quivered at the vagueness and the terror of thatinterview which every instant was bringing nearer. With tingling nervesbut a fixed purpose, I sat in the dark recess of the hut and waited withsombre patience for the coming of its tenant. 

And then at last I heard him. Far away came the sharp clink of a bootstriking upon a stone. Then another and yet another, coming nearer andnearer. I shrank back into the darkest corner and cocked the pistol inmy pocket, determined not to discover myself until I had an opportunityof seeing something of the stranger. There was a long pause which showedthat he had stopped. Then once more the footsteps approached and ashadow fell across the opening of the hut. 

"It is a lovely evening, my dear Watson, " said a well-known voice. "Ireally think that you will be more comfortable outside than in. "

Chapter 12. Death on the Moor

For a moment or two I sat breathless, hardly able to believe my ears. Then my senses and my voice came back to me, while a crushing weightof responsibility seemed in an instant to be lifted from my soul. Thatcold, incisive, ironical voice could belong to but one man in all theworld. 

"Holmes!" I cried--"Holmes!"

"Come out, " said he, "and please be careful with the revolver. "

I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stone outside, his gray eyes dancing with amusement as they fell upon my astonishedfeatures. He was thin and worn, but clear and alert, his keen facebronzed by the sun and roughened by the wind. In his tweed suit andcloth cap he looked like any other tourist upon the moor, and he hadcontrived, with that catlike love of personal cleanliness which was oneof his characteristics, that his chin should be as smooth and his linenas perfect as if he were in Baker Street. 

"I never was more glad to see anyone in my life, " said I as I wrung himby the hand. 

"Or more astonished, eh?"

"Well, I must confess to it. "

"The surprise was not all on one side, I assure you. I had no idea thatyou had found my occasional retreat, still less that you were inside it, until I was within twenty paces of the door. "

"My footprint, I presume?"

"No, Watson, I fear that I could not undertake to recognize yourfootprint amid all the footprints of the world. If you seriously desireto deceive me you must change your tobacconist; for when I see the stubof a cigarette marked Bradley, Oxford Street, I know that my friendWatson is in the neighbourhood. You will see it there beside the path. You threw it down, no doubt, at that supreme moment when you chargedinto the empty hut. "

"Exactly. "

"I thought as much--and knowing your admirable tenacity I was convincedthat you were sitting in ambush, a weapon within reach, waiting for thetenant to return. So you actually thought that I was the criminal?"

"I did not know who you were, but I was determined to find out. "

"Excellent, Watson! And how did you localize me? You saw me, perhaps, onthe night of the convict hunt, when I was so imprudent as to allow themoon to rise behind me?"

"Yes, I saw you then. "

"And have no doubt searched all the huts until you came to this one?"

"No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guide where tolook. "

"The old gentleman with the telescope, no doubt. I could not make it outwhen first I saw the light flashing upon the lens. " He rose and peepedinto the hut. "Ha, I see that Cartwright has brought up some supplies. What's this paper? So you have been to Coombe Tracey, have you?"

"Yes. "

"To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?"

"Exactly. "

"Well done! Our researches have evidently been running on parallellines, and when we unite our results I expect we shall have a fairlyfull knowledge of the case. "

"Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeed theresponsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for mynerves. But how in the name of wonder did you come here, and what haveyou been doing? I thought that you were in Baker Street working out thatcase of blackmailing. "

"That was what I wished you to think. "

"Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!" I cried with somebitterness. "I think that I have deserved better at your hands, Holmes. "

"My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many othercases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play atrick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me tocome down and examine the matter for myself. Had I been with Sir Henryand you it is confident that my point of view would have been thesame as yours, and my presence would have warned our very formidableopponents to be on their guard. As it is, I have been able to get aboutas I could not possibly have done had I been living in the Hall, andI remain an unknown factor in the business, ready to throw in all myweight at a critical moment. "

"But why keep me in the dark?"

"For you to know could not have helped us and might possibly have ledto my discovery. You would have wished to tell me something, or in yourkindness you would have brought me out some comfort or other, and so anunnecessary risk would be run. I brought Cartwright down with me--youremember the little chap at the express office--and he has seen aftermy simple wants: a loaf of bread and a clean collar. What does man wantmore? He has given me an extra pair of eyes upon a very active pair offeet, and both have been invaluable. "

"Then my reports have all been wasted!"--My voice trembled as I recalledthe pains and the pride with which I had composed them. 

Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket. 

"Here are your reports, my dear fellow, and very well thumbed, I assureyou. I made excellent arrangements, and they are only delayed one dayupon their way. I must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal andthe intelligence which you have shown over an extraordinarily difficultcase. "

I was still rather raw over the deception which had been practised uponme, but the warmth of Holmes's praise drove my anger from my mind. Ifelt also in my heart that he was right in what he said and that it wasreally best for our purpose that I should not have known that he wasupon the moor. 

"That's better, " said he, seeing the shadow rise from my face. "Andnow tell me the result of your visit to Mrs. Laura Lyons--it was notdifficult for me to guess that it was to see her that you had gone, forI am already aware that she is the one person in Coombe Tracey who mightbe of service to us in the matter. In fact, if you had not gone today itis exceedingly probable that I should have gone tomorrow. "

The sun had set and dusk was settling over the moor. The air had turnedchill and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. There, sitting togetherin the twilight, I told Holmes of my conversation with the lady. Sointerested was he that I had to repeat some of it twice before he wassatisfied. 

"This is most important, " said he when I had concluded. "It fills up agap which I had been unable to bridge in this most complex affair. Youare aware, perhaps, that a close intimacy exists between this lady andthe man Stapleton?"

"I did not know of a close intimacy. "

"There can be no doubt about the matter. They meet, they write, thereis a complete understanding between them. Now, this puts a very powerfulweapon into our hands. If I could only use it to detach his wife--"

"His wife?"

"I am giving you some information now, in return for all that you havegiven me. The lady who has passed here as Miss Stapleton is in realityhis wife. "

"Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? How could he havepermitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?"

"Sir Henry's falling in love could do no harm to anyone except SirHenry. He took particular care that Sir Henry did not make love to her, as you have yourself observed. I repeat that the lady is his wife andnot his sister. "

"But why this elaborate deception?"

"Because he foresaw that she would be very much more useful to him inthe character of a free woman. "

All my unspoken instincts, my vague suspicions, suddenly took shape andcentred upon the naturalist. In that impassive colourless man, with hisstraw hat and his butterfly-net, I seemed to see something terrible--acreature of infinite patience and craft, with a smiling face and amurderous heart. 

"It is he, then, who is our enemy--it is he who dogged us in London?"

"So I read the riddle. "

"And the warning--it must have come from her!"

"Exactly. "

The shape of some monstrous villainy, half seen, half guessed, loomedthrough the darkness which had girt me so long. 

"But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that the woman is hiswife?"

"Because he so far forgot himself as to tell you a true piece ofautobiography upon the occasion when he first met you, and I dare sayhe has many a time regretted it since. He was once a schoolmaster inthe north of England. Now, there is no one more easy to trace than aschoolmaster. There are scholastic agencies by which one may identifyany man who has been in the profession. A little investigation showed methat a school had come to grief under atrocious circumstances, and thatthe man who had owned it--the name was different--had disappeared withhis wife. The descriptions agreed. When I learned that the missing manwas devoted to entomology the identification was complete. "

The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by the shadows. 

"If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs. Laura Lyons comein?" I asked. 

"That is one of the points upon which your own researches have shed alight. Your interview with the lady has cleared the situation verymuch. I did not know about a projected divorce between herself and herhusband. In that case, regarding Stapleton as an unmarried man, shecounted no doubt upon becoming his wife. "

"And when she is undeceived?"

"Why, then we may find the lady of service. It must be our first dutyto see her--both of us--tomorrow. Don't you think, Watson, that you areaway from your charge rather long? Your place should be at BaskervilleHall. "

The last red streaks had faded away in the west and night had settledupon the moor. A few faint stars were gleaming in a violet sky. 

"One last question, Holmes, " I said as I rose. "Surely there is no needof secrecy between you and me. What is the meaning of it all? What is heafter?"

Holmes's voice sank as he answered:

"It is murder, Watson--refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder. Do notask me for particulars. My nets are closing upon him, even as his areupon Sir Henry, and with your help he is already almost at my mercy. There is but one danger which can threaten us. It is that he shouldstrike before we are ready to do so. Another day--two at the most--andI have my case complete, but until then guard your charge as closelyas ever a fond mother watched her ailing child. Your mission today hasjustified itself, and yet I could almost wish that you had not left hisside. Hark!"

A terrible scream--a prolonged yell of horror and anguish--burst out ofthe silence of the moor. That frightful cry turned the blood to ice inmy veins. 

"Oh, my God!" I gasped. "What is it? What does it mean?"

Holmes had sprung to his feet, and I saw his dark, athletic outline atthe door of the hut, his shoulders stooping, his head thrust forward, his face peering into the darkness. 

"Hush!" he whispered. "Hush!"

The cry had been loud on account of its vehemence, but it had pealed outfrom somewhere far off on the shadowy plain. Now it burst upon our ears, nearer, louder, more urgent than before. 

"Where is it?" Holmes whispered; and I knew from the thrill of his voicethat he, the man of iron, was shaken to the soul. "Where is it, Watson?"

"There, I think. " I pointed into the darkness. 

"No, there!"

Again the agonized cry swept through the silent night, louder and muchnearer than ever. And a new sound mingled with it, a deep, mutteredrumble, musical and yet menacing, rising and falling like the low, constant murmur of the sea. 

"The hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, come! Great heavens, if we aretoo late!"

He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I had followed at hisheels. But now from somewhere among the broken ground immediately infront of us there came one last despairing yell, and then a dull, heavythud. We halted and listened. Not another sound broke the heavy silenceof the windless night. 

I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted. Hestamped his feet upon the ground. 

"He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late. "

"No, no, surely not!"

"Fool that I was to hold my hand. And you, Watson, see what comes ofabandoning your charge! But, by Heaven, if the worst has happened we'llavenge him!"

Blindly we ran through the gloom, blundering against boulders, forcingour way through gorse bushes, panting up hills and rushing down slopes, heading always in the direction whence those dreadful sounds had come. At every rise Holmes looked eagerly round him, but the shadows werethick upon the moor, and nothing moved upon its dreary face. 

"Can you see anything?"

"Nothing. "

"But, hark, what is that?"

A low moan had fallen upon our ears. There it was again upon our left!On that side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliff which overlookeda stone-strewn slope. On its jagged face was spread-eagled some dark, irregular object. As we ran towards it the vague outline hardened intoa definite shape. It was a prostrate man face downward upon the ground, the head doubled under him at a horrible angle, the shoulders roundedand the body hunched together as if in the act of throwing a somersault. So grotesque was the attitude that I could not for the instant realizethat that moan had been the passing of his soul. Not a whisper, not arustle, rose now from the dark figure over which we stooped. Holmes laidhis hand upon him and held it up again with an exclamation of horror. The gleam of the match which he struck shone upon his clotted fingersand upon the ghastly pool which widened slowly from the crushed skullof the victim. And it shone upon something else which turned our heartssick and faint within us--the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!

There was no chance of either of us forgetting that peculiar ruddy tweedsuit--the very one which he had worn on the first morning that we hadseen him in Baker Street. We caught the one clear glimpse of it, andthen the match flickered and went out, even as the hope had gone outof our souls. Holmes groaned, and his face glimmered white through thedarkness. 

"The brute! The brute!" I cried with clenched hands. "Oh Holmes, I shallnever forgive myself for having left him to his fate. "

"I am more to blame than you, Watson. In order to have my case wellrounded and complete, I have thrown away the life of my client. It isthe greatest blow which has befallen me in my career. But how could Iknow--how could I know--that he would risk his life alone upon the moorin the face of all my warnings?"

"That we should have heard his screams--my God, those screams!--and yethave been unable to save him! Where is this brute of a hound which drovehim to his death? It may be lurking among these rocks at this instant. And Stapleton, where is he? He shall answer for this deed. "

"He shall. I will see to that. Uncle and nephew have been murdered--theone frightened to death by the very sight of a beast which he thoughtto be supernatural, the other driven to his end in his wild flight toescape from it. But now we have to prove the connection between theman and the beast. Save from what we heard, we cannot even swear to theexistence of the latter, since Sir Henry has evidently died from thefall. But, by heavens, cunning as he is, the fellow shall be in my powerbefore another day is past!"

We stood with bitter hearts on either side of the mangled body, overwhelmed by this sudden and irrevocable disaster which had broughtall our long and weary labours to so piteous an end. Then as the moonrose we climbed to the top of the rocks over which our poor friend hadfallen, and from the summit we gazed out over the shadowy moor, halfsilver and half gloom. Far away, miles off, in the direction of Grimpen, a single steady yellow light was shining. It could only come from thelonely abode of the Stapletons. With a bitter curse I shook my fist atit as I gazed. 

"Why should we not seize him at once?"

"Our case is not complete. The fellow is wary and cunning to the lastdegree. It is not what we know, but what we can prove. If we make onefalse move the villain may escape us yet. "

"What can we do?"

"There will be plenty for us to do tomorrow. Tonight we can only performthe last offices to our poor friend. "

Together we made our way down the precipitous slope and approached thebody, black and clear against the silvered stones. The agony of thosecontorted limbs struck me with a spasm of pain and blurred my eyes withtears. 

"We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all the way to theHall. Good heavens, are you mad?"

He had uttered a cry and bent over the body. Now he was dancing andlaughing and wringing my hand. Could this be my stern, self-containedfriend? These were hidden fires, indeed!

"A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!"

"A beard?"

"It is not the baronet--it is--why, it is my neighbour, the convict!"

With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and that dripping beardwas pointing up to the cold, clear moon. There could be no doubt aboutthe beetling forehead, the sunken animal eyes. It was indeed the sameface which had glared upon me in the light of the candle from over therock--the face of Selden, the criminal. 

Then in an instant it was all clear to me. I remembered how the baronethad told me that he had handed his old wardrobe to Barrymore. Barrymorehad passed it on in order to help Selden in his escape. Boots, shirt, cap--it was all Sir Henry's. The tragedy was still black enough, butthis man had at least deserved death by the laws of his country. I toldHolmes how the matter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulnessand joy. 

"Then the clothes have been the poor devil's death, " said he. "It isclear enough that the hound has been laid on from some article ofSir Henry's--the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in allprobability--and so ran this man down. There is one very singular thing, however: How came Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was onhis trail?"

"He heard him. "

"To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man like thisconvict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recaptureby screaming wildly for help. By his cries he must have run a long wayafter he knew the animal was on his track. How did he know?"

"A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that all ourconjectures are correct--"

"I presume nothing. "

"Well, then, why this hound should be loose tonight. I suppose that itdoes not always run loose upon the moor. Stapleton would not let it gounless he had reason to think that Sir Henry would be there. "

"My difficulty is the more formidable of the two, for I think that weshall very shortly get an explanation of yours, while mine may remainforever a mystery. The question now is, what shall we do with this poorwretch's body? We cannot leave it here to the foxes and the ravens. "

"I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we can communicatewith the police. "

"Exactly. I have no doubt that you and I could carry it so far. Halloa, Watson, what's this? It's the man himself, by all that's wonderful andaudacious! Not a word to show your suspicions--not a word, or my planscrumble to the ground. "

A figure was approaching us over the moor, and I saw the dull red glowof a cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I could distinguish the dappershape and jaunty walk of the naturalist. He stopped when he saw us, andthen came on again. 

"Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last man that Ishould have expected to see out on the moor at this time of night. But, dear me, what's this? Somebody hurt? Not--don't tell me that it is ourfriend Sir Henry!" He hurried past me and stooped over the dead man. Iheard a sharp intake of his breath and the cigar fell from his fingers. 

"Who--who's this?" he stammered. 

"It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown. "

Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supreme effort he hadovercome his amazement and his disappointment. He looked sharply fromHolmes to me. "Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?"

"He appears to have broken his neck by falling over these rocks. Myfriend and I were strolling on the moor when we heard a cry. "

"I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I was uneasy aboutSir Henry. "

"Why about Sir Henry in particular?" I could not help asking. 

"Because I had suggested that he should come over. When he did not comeI was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed for his safety when Iheard cries upon the moor. By the way"--his eyes darted again from myface to Holmes's--"did you hear anything else besides a cry?"

"No, " said Holmes; "did you?"

"No. "

"What do you mean, then?"

"Oh, you know the stories that the peasants tell about a phantomhound, and so on. It is said to be heard at night upon the moor. I waswondering if there were any evidence of such a sound tonight. "

"We heard nothing of the kind, " said I. 

"And what is your theory of this poor fellow's death?"

"I have no doubt that anxiety and exposure have driven him off his head. He has rushed about the moor in a crazy state and eventually fallen overhere and broken his neck. "

"That seems the most reasonable theory, " said Stapleton, and he gave asigh which I took to indicate his relief. "What do you think about it, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

My friend bowed his compliments. "You are quick at identification, " saidhe. 

"We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watson came down. You are in time to see a tragedy. "

"Yes, indeed. I have no doubt that my friend's explanation will coverthe facts. I will take an unpleasant remembrance back to London with metomorrow. "

"Oh, you return tomorrow?"

"That is my intention. "

"I hope your visit has cast some light upon those occurrences which havepuzzled us?"

Holmes shrugged his shoulders. 

"One cannot always have the success for which one hopes. An investigatorneeds facts and not legends or rumours. It has not been a satisfactorycase. "

My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner. Stapletonstill looked hard at him. Then he turned to me. 

"I would suggest carrying this poor fellow to my house, but it wouldgive my sister such a fright that I do not feel justified in doing it. I think that if we put something over his face he will be safe untilmorning. "

And so it was arranged. Resisting Stapleton's offer of hospitality, Holmes and I set off to Baskerville Hall, leaving the naturalist toreturn alone. Looking back we saw the figure moving slowly away over thebroad moor, and behind him that one black smudge on the silvered slopewhich showed where the man was lying who had come so horribly to hisend. 

Chapter 13. Fixing the Nets

"We're at close grips at last, " said Holmes as we walked together acrossthe moor. "What a nerve the fellow has! How he pulled himself togetherin the face of what must have been a paralyzing shock when he found thatthe wrong man had fallen a victim to his plot. I told you in London, Watson, and I tell you now again, that we have never had a foeman moreworthy of our steel. "

"I am sorry that he has seen you. "

"And so was I at first. But there was no getting out of it. "

"What effect do you think it will have upon his plans now that he knowsyou are here?"

"It may cause him to be more cautious, or it may drive him to desperatemeasures at once. Like most clever criminals, he may be too confident inhis own cleverness and imagine that he has completely deceived us. "

"Why should we not arrest him at once?"

"My dear Watson, you were born to be a man of action. Your instinct isalways to do something energetic. But supposing, for argument's sake, that we had him arrested tonight, what on earth the better off shouldwe be for that? We could prove nothing against him. There's the devilishcunning of it! If he were acting through a human agent we could get someevidence, but if we were to drag this great dog to the light of day itwould not help us in putting a rope round the neck of its master. "

"Surely we have a case. "

"Not a shadow of one--only surmise and conjecture. We should be laughedout of court if we came with such a story and such evidence. "

"There is Sir Charles's death. "

"Found dead without a mark upon him. You and I know that he died ofsheer fright, and we know also what frightened him, but how are we toget twelve stolid jurymen to know it? What signs are there of a hound?Where are the marks of its fangs? Of course we know that a hound doesnot bite a dead body and that Sir Charles was dead before ever thebrute overtook him. But we have to prove all this, and we are not in aposition to do it. "

"Well, then, tonight?"

"We are not much better off tonight. Again, there was no directconnection between the hound and the man's death. We never saw thehound. We heard it, but we could not prove that it was running upon thisman's trail. There is a complete absence of motive. No, my dear fellow;we must reconcile ourselves to the fact that we have no case at present, and that it is worth our while to run any risk in order to establishone. "

"And how do you propose to do so?"

"I have great hopes of what Mrs. Laura Lyons may do for us when theposition of affairs is made clear to her. And I have my own plan aswell. Sufficient for tomorrow is the evil thereof; but I hope before theday is past to have the upper hand at last. "

I could draw nothing further from him, and he walked, lost in thought, as far as the Baskerville gates. 

"Are you coming up?"

"Yes; I see no reason for further concealment. But one last word, Watson. Say nothing of the hound to Sir Henry. Let him think thatSelden's death was as Stapleton would have us believe. He will have abetter nerve for the ordeal which he will have to undergo tomorrow, when he is engaged, if I remember your report aright, to dine with thesepeople. "

"And so am I. "

"Then you must excuse yourself and he must go alone. That will be easilyarranged. And now, if we are too late for dinner, I think that we areboth ready for our suppers. "

Sir Henry was more pleased than surprised to see Sherlock Holmes, for hehad for some days been expecting that recent events would bring him downfrom London. He did raise his eyebrows, however, when he found that myfriend had neither any luggage nor any explanations for its absence. Between us we soon supplied his wants, and then over a belated supperwe explained to the baronet as much of our experience as it seemeddesirable that he should know. But first I had the unpleasant duty ofbreaking the news to Barrymore and his wife. To him it may have been anunmitigated relief, but she wept bitterly in her apron. To all the worldhe was the man of violence, half animal and half demon; but to her healways remained the little wilful boy of her own girlhood, the child whohad clung to her hand. Evil indeed is the man who has not one woman tomourn him. 

"I've been moping in the house all day since Watson went off in themorning, " said the baronet. "I guess I should have some credit, for Ihave kept my promise. If I hadn't sworn not to go about alone I mighthave had a more lively evening, for I had a message from Stapletonasking me over there. "

"I have no doubt that you would have had a more lively evening, " saidHolmes drily. "By the way, I don't suppose you appreciate that we havebeen mourning over you as having broken your neck?"

Sir Henry opened his eyes. "How was that?"

"This poor wretch was dressed in your clothes. I fear your servant whogave them to him may get into trouble with the police. "

"That is unlikely. There was no mark on any of them, as far as I know. "

"That's lucky for him--in fact, it's lucky for all of you, since you areall on the wrong side of the law in this matter. I am not sure that asa conscientious detective my first duty is not to arrest the wholehousehold. Watson's reports are most incriminating documents. "

"But how about the case?" asked the baronet. "Have you made anything outof the tangle? I don't know that Watson and I are much the wiser sincewe came down. "

"I think that I shall be in a position to make the situation rather moreclear to you before long. It has been an exceedingly difficult and mostcomplicated business. There are several points upon which we still wantlight--but it is coming all the same. "

"We've had one experience, as Watson has no doubt told you. We heard thehound on the moor, so I can swear that it is not all empty superstition. I had something to do with dogs when I was out West, and I know one whenI hear one. If you can muzzle that one and put him on a chain I'll beready to swear you are the greatest detective of all time. "

"I think I will muzzle him and chain him all right if you will give meyour help. "

"Whatever you tell me to do I will do. "

"Very good; and I will ask you also to do it blindly, without alwaysasking the reason. "

"Just as you like. "

"If you will do this I think the chances are that our little problemwill soon be solved. I have no doubt--"

He stopped suddenly and stared fixedly up over my head into the air. Thelamp beat upon his face, and so intent was it and so still that it mighthave been that of a clear-cut classical statue, a personification ofalertness and expectation. 

"What is it?" we both cried. 

I could see as he looked down that he was repressing some internalemotion. His features were still composed, but his eyes shone withamused exultation. 

"Excuse the admiration of a connoisseur, " said he as he waved his handtowards the line of portraits which covered the opposite wall. "Watsonwon't allow that I know anything of art but that is mere jealousybecause our views upon the subject differ. Now, these are a really veryfine series of portraits. "

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so, " said Sir Henry, glancing with somesurprise at my friend. "I don't pretend to know much about these things, and I'd be a better judge of a horse or a steer than of a picture. Ididn't know that you found time for such things. "

"I know what is good when I see it, and I see it now. That's a Kneller, I'll swear, that lady in the blue silk over yonder, and the stoutgentleman with the wig ought to be a Reynolds. They are all familyportraits, I presume?"

"Every one. "

"Do you know the names?"

"Barrymore has been coaching me in them, and I think I can say mylessons fairly well. "

"Who is the gentleman with the telescope?"

"That is Rear-Admiral Baskerville, who served under Rodney in the WestIndies. The man with the blue coat and the roll of paper is Sir WilliamBaskerville, who was Chairman of Committees of the House of Commonsunder Pitt. "

"And this Cavalier opposite to me--the one with the black velvet and thelace?"

"Ah, you have a right to know about him. That is the cause of all themischief, the wicked Hugo, who started the Hound of the Baskervilles. We're not likely to forget him. "

I gazed with interest and some surprise upon the portrait. 

"Dear me!" said Holmes, "he seems a quiet, meek-mannered man enough, butI dare say that there was a lurking devil in his eyes. I had picturedhim as a more robust and ruffianly person. "

"There's no doubt about the authenticity, for the name and the date, 1647, are on the back of the canvas. "

Holmes said little more, but the picture of the old roysterer seemed tohave a fascination for him, and his eyes were continually fixed upon itduring supper. It was not until later, when Sir Henry had gone to hisroom, that I was able to follow the trend of his thoughts. He led meback into the banqueting-hall, his bedroom candle in his hand, and heheld it up against the time-stained portrait on the wall. 

"Do you see anything there?"

I looked at the broad plumed hat, the curling love-locks, the white lacecollar, and the straight, severe face which was framed between them. Itwas not a brutal countenance, but it was prim, hard, and stern, with afirm-set, thin-lipped mouth, and a coldly intolerant eye. 

"Is it like anyone you know?"

"There is something of Sir Henry about the jaw. "

"Just a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an instant!" He stood upon achair, and, holding up the light in his left hand, he curved his rightarm over the broad hat and round the long ringlets. 

"Good heavens!" I cried in amazement. 

The face of Stapleton had sprung out of the canvas. 

"Ha, you see it now. My eyes have been trained to examine faces and nottheir trimmings. It is the first quality of a criminal investigator thathe should see through a disguise. "

"But this is marvellous. It might be his portrait. "

"Yes, it is an interesting instance of a throwback, which appears to beboth physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits is enoughto convert a man to the doctrine of reincarnation. The fellow is aBaskerville--that is evident. "

"With designs upon the succession. "

"Exactly. This chance of the picture has supplied us with one of ourmost obvious missing links. We have him, Watson, we have him, and I dareswear that before tomorrow night he will be fluttering in our net ashelpless as one of his own butterflies. A pin, a cork, and a card, andwe add him to the Baker Street collection!" He burst into one of hisrare fits of laughter as he turned away from the picture. I have notheard him laugh often, and it has always boded ill to somebody. 

I was up betimes in the morning, but Holmes was afoot earlier still, forI saw him as I dressed, coming up the drive. 

"Yes, we should have a full day today, " he remarked, and he rubbed hishands with the joy of action. "The nets are all in place, and the dragis about to begin. We'll know before the day is out whether we havecaught our big, leanjawed pike, or whether he has got through themeshes. "

"Have you been on the moor already?"

"I have sent a report from Grimpen to Princetown as to the death ofSelden. I think I can promise that none of you will be troubled in thematter. And I have also communicated with my faithful Cartwright, whowould certainly have pined away at the door of my hut, as a dog does athis master's grave, if I had not set his mind at rest about my safety. "

"What is the next move?"

"To see Sir Henry. Ah, here he is!"

"Good-morning, Holmes, " said the baronet. "You look like a general whois planning a battle with his chief of the staff. "

"That is the exact situation. Watson was asking for orders. "

"And so do I. "

"Very good. You are engaged, as I understand, to dine with our friendsthe Stapletons tonight. "

"I hope that you will come also. They are very hospitable people, and Iam sure that they would be very glad to see you. "

"I fear that Watson and I must go to London. "

"To London?"

"Yes, I think that we should be more useful there at the presentjuncture. "

The baronet's face perceptibly lengthened. 

"I hoped that you were going to see me through this business. The Halland the moor are not very pleasant places when one is alone. "

"My dear fellow, you must trust me implicitly and do exactly what I tellyou. You can tell your friends that we should have been happy to havecome with you, but that urgent business required us to be in town. Wehope very soon to return to Devonshire. Will you remember to give themthat message?"

"If you insist upon it. "

"There is no alternative, I assure you. "

I saw by the baronet's clouded brow that he was deeply hurt by what heregarded as our desertion. 

"When do you desire to go?" he asked coldly. 

"Immediately after breakfast. We will drive in to Coombe Tracey, butWatson will leave his things as a pledge that he will come back to you. Watson, you will send a note to Stapleton to tell him that you regretthat you cannot come. "

"I have a good mind to go to London with you, " said the baronet. "Whyshould I stay here alone?"

"Because it is your post of duty. Because you gave me your word that youwould do as you were told, and I tell you to stay. "

"All right, then, I'll stay. "

"One more direction! I wish you to drive to Merripit House. Send backyour trap, however, and let them know that you intend to walk home. "

"To walk across the moor?"

"Yes. "

"But that is the very thing which you have so often cautioned me not todo. "

"This time you may do it with safety. If I had not every confidence inyour nerve and courage I would not suggest it, but it is essential thatyou should do it. "

"Then I will do it. "

"And as you value your life do not go across the moor in any directionsave along the straight path which leads from Merripit House to theGrimpen Road, and is your natural way home. "

"I will do just what you say. "

"Very good. I should be glad to get away as soon after breakfast aspossible, so as to reach London in the afternoon. "

I was much astounded by this programme, though I remembered that Holmeshad said to Stapleton on the night before that his visit would terminatenext day. It had not crossed my mind however, that he would wish me togo with him, nor could I understand how we could both be absent at amoment which he himself declared to be critical. There was nothing forit, however, but implicit obedience; so we bade good-bye to our ruefulfriend, and a couple of hours afterwards we were at the station ofCoombe Tracey and had dispatched the trap upon its return journey. Asmall boy was waiting upon the platform. 

"Any orders, sir?"

"You will take this train to town, Cartwright. The moment you arrive youwill send a wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, in my name, to say that if hefinds the pocketbook which I have dropped he is to send it by registeredpost to Baker Street. "

"Yes, sir. "

"And ask at the station office if there is a message for me. "

The boy returned with a telegram, which Holmes handed to me. It ran:

Wire received. Coming down with unsigned warrant. Arrive five-forty. Lestrade. 

"That is in answer to mine of this morning. He is the best of theprofessionals, I think, and we may need his assistance. Now, Watson, Ithink that we cannot employ our time better than by calling upon youracquaintance, Mrs. Laura Lyons. "

His plan of campaign was beginning to be evident. He would use thebaronet in order to convince the Stapletons that we were really gone, while we should actually return at the instant when we were likely tobe needed. That telegram from London, if mentioned by Sir Henry to theStapletons, must remove the last suspicions from their minds. Already Iseemed to see our nets drawing closer around that leanjawed pike. 

Mrs. Laura Lyons was in her office, and Sherlock Holmes opened hisinterview with a frankness and directness which considerably amazed her. 

"I am investigating the circumstances which attended the death of thelate Sir Charles Baskerville, " said he. "My friend here, Dr. Watson, has informed me of what you have communicated, and also of what you havewithheld in connection with that matter. "

"What have I withheld?" she asked defiantly. 

"You have confessed that you asked Sir Charles to be at the gate at teno'clock. We know that that was the place and hour of his death. You havewithheld what the connection is between these events. "

"There is no connection. "

"In that case the coincidence must indeed be an extraordinary one. ButI think that we shall succeed in establishing a connection, after all. Iwish to be perfectly frank with you, Mrs. Lyons. We regard this case asone of murder, and the evidence may implicate not only your friend Mr. Stapleton but his wife as well. "

The lady sprang from her chair. 

"His wife!" she cried. 

"The fact is no longer a secret. The person who has passed for hissister is really his wife. "

Mrs. Lyons had resumed her seat. Her hands were grasping the arms of herchair, and I saw that the pink nails had turned white with the pressureof her grip. 

"His wife!" she said again. "His wife! He is not a married man. "

Sherlock Holmes shrugged his shoulders. 

"Prove it to me! Prove it to me! And if you can do so--!"

The fierce flash of her eyes said more than any words. 

"I have come prepared to do so, " said Holmes, drawing several papersfrom his pocket. "Here is a photograph of the couple taken in York fouryears ago. It is indorsed 'Mr. And Mrs. Vandeleur, ' but you will have nodifficulty in recognizing him, and her also, if you know her by sight. Here are three written descriptions by trustworthy witnesses of Mr. AndMrs. Vandeleur, who at that time kept St. Oliver's private school. Readthem and see if you can doubt the identity of these people. "

She glanced at them, and then looked up at us with the set, rigid faceof a desperate woman. 

"Mr. Holmes, " she said, "this man had offered me marriage on conditionthat I could get a divorce from my husband. He has lied to me, thevillain, in every conceivable way. Not one word of truth has he evertold me. And why--why? I imagined that all was for my own sake. But nowI see that I was never anything but a tool in his hands. Why should Ipreserve faith with him who never kept any with me? Why should I try toshield him from the consequences of his own wicked acts? Ask me what youlike, and there is nothing which I shall hold back. One thing I swearto you, and that is that when I wrote the letter I never dreamed of anyharm to the old gentleman, who had been my kindest friend. "

"I entirely believe you, madam, " said Sherlock Holmes. "The recital ofthese events must be very painful to you, and perhaps it will make iteasier if I tell you what occurred, and you can check me if I make anymaterial mistake. The sending of this letter was suggested to you byStapleton?"

"He dictated it. "

"I presume that the reason he gave was that you would receive help fromSir Charles for the legal expenses connected with your divorce?"

"Exactly. "

"And then after you had sent the letter he dissuaded you from keepingthe appointment?"

"He told me that it would hurt his self-respect that any other manshould find the money for such an object, and that though he was a poorman himself he would devote his last penny to removing the obstacleswhich divided us. "

"He appears to be a very consistent character. And then you heardnothing until you read the reports of the death in the paper?"

"No. "

"And he made you swear to say nothing about your appointment with SirCharles?"

"He did. He said that the death was a very mysterious one, and that Ishould certainly be suspected if the facts came out. He frightened meinto remaining silent. "

"Quite so. But you had your suspicions?"

She hesitated and looked down. 

"I knew him, " she said. "But if he had kept faith with me I shouldalways have done so with him. "

"I think that on the whole you have had a fortunate escape, " saidSherlock Holmes. "You have had him in your power and he knew it, and yetyou are alive. You have been walking for some months very near to theedge of a precipice. We must wish you good-morning now, Mrs. Lyons, andit is probable that you will very shortly hear from us again. "

"Our case becomes rounded off, and difficulty after difficulty thinsaway in front of us, " said Holmes as we stood waiting for the arrival ofthe express from town. "I shall soon be in the position of being ableto put into a single connected narrative one of the most singularand sensational crimes of modern times. Students of criminology willremember the analogous incidents in Godno, in Little Russia, in the year'66, and of course there are the Anderson murders in North Carolina, butthis case possesses some features which are entirely its own. Even nowwe have no clear case against this very wily man. But I shall be verymuch surprised if it is not clear enough before we go to bed thisnight. "

The London express came roaring into the station, and a small, wirybulldog of a man had sprung from a first-class carriage. We all threeshook hands, and I saw at once from the reverential way in whichLestrade gazed at my companion that he had learned a good deal sincethe days when they had first worked together. I could well rememberthe scorn which the theories of the reasoner used then to excite in thepractical man. 

"Anything good?" he asked. 

"The biggest thing for years, " said Holmes. "We have two hours beforewe need think of starting. I think we might employ it in getting somedinner and then, Lestrade, we will take the London fog out of yourthroat by giving you a breath of the pure night air of Dartmoor. Neverbeen there? Ah, well, I don't suppose you will forget your first visit. "

Chapter 14. The Hound of the Baskervilles

One of Sherlock Holmes's defects--if, indeed, one may call it adefect--was that he was exceedingly loath to communicate his full plansto any other person until the instant of their fulfilment. Partly itcame no doubt from his own masterful nature, which loved to dominate andsurprise those who were around him. Partly also from his professionalcaution, which urged him never to take any chances. The result, however, was very trying for those who were acting as his agents and assistants. I had often suffered under it, but never more so than during that longdrive in the darkness. The great ordeal was in front of us; at last wewere about to make our final effort, and yet Holmes had said nothing, and I could only surmise what his course of action would be. My nervesthrilled with anticipation when at last the cold wind upon our faces andthe dark, void spaces on either side of the narrow road told me that wewere back upon the moor once again. Every stride of the horses and everyturn of the wheels was taking us nearer to our supreme adventure. 

Our conversation was hampered by the presence of the driver of the hiredwagonette, so that we were forced to talk of trivial matters when ournerves were tense with emotion and anticipation. It was a relief to me, after that unnatural restraint, when we at last passed Frankland'shouse and knew that we were drawing near to the Hall and to the sceneof action. We did not drive up to the door but got down near the gate ofthe avenue. The wagonette was paid off and ordered to return to CoombeTracey forthwith, while we started to walk to Merripit House. 

"Are you armed, Lestrade?"

The little detective smiled. "As long as I have my trousers I have ahip-pocket, and as long as I have my hip-pocket I have something in it. "

"Good! My friend and I are also ready for emergencies. "

"You're mighty close about this affair, Mr. Holmes. What's the gamenow?"

"A waiting game. "

"My word, it does not seem a very cheerful place, " said the detectivewith a shiver, glancing round him at the gloomy slopes of the hill andat the huge lake of fog which lay over the Grimpen Mire. "I see thelights of a house ahead of us. "

"That is Merripit House and the end of our journey. I must request youto walk on tiptoe and not to talk above a whisper. "

We moved cautiously along the track as if we were bound for the house, but Holmes halted us when we were about two hundred yards from it. 

"This will do, " said he. "These rocks upon the right make an admirablescreen. "

"We are to wait here?"

"Yes, we shall make our little ambush here. Get into this hollow, Lestrade. You have been inside the house, have you not, Watson? Can youtell the position of the rooms? What are those latticed windows at thisend?"

"I think they are the kitchen windows. "

"And the one beyond, which shines so brightly?"

"That is certainly the dining-room. "

"The blinds are up. You know the lie of the land best. Creep forwardquietly and see what they are doing--but for heaven's sake don't letthem know that they are watched!"

I tiptoed down the path and stooped behind the low wall which surroundedthe stunted orchard. Creeping in its shadow I reached a point whence Icould look straight through the uncurtained window. 

There were only two men in the room, Sir Henry and Stapleton. They satwith their profiles towards me on either side of the round table. Bothof them were smoking cigars, and coffee and wine were in front of them. Stapleton was talking with animation, but the baronet looked pale anddistrait. Perhaps the thought of that lonely walk across the ill-omenedmoor was weighing heavily upon his mind. 

As I watched them Stapleton rose and left the room, while Sir Henryfilled his glass again and leaned back in his chair, puffing at hiscigar. I heard the creak of a door and the crisp sound of boots upongravel. The steps passed along the path on the other side of the wallunder which I crouched. Looking over, I saw the naturalist pause at thedoor of an out-house in the corner of the orchard. A key turned ina lock, and as he passed in there was a curious scuffling noise fromwithin. He was only a minute or so inside, and then I heard the key turnonce more and he passed me and reentered the house. I saw him rejoin hisguest, and I crept quietly back to where my companions were waiting totell them what I had seen. 

"You say, Watson, that the lady is not there?" Holmes asked when I hadfinished my report. 

"No. "

"Where can she be, then, since there is no light in any other roomexcept the kitchen?"

"I cannot think where she is. "

I have said that over the great Grimpen Mire there hung a dense, whitefog. It was drifting slowly in our direction and banked itself up like awall on that side of us, low but thick and well defined. The moon shoneon it, and it looked like a great shimmering ice-field, with the headsof the distant tors as rocks borne upon its surface. Holmes's facewas turned towards it, and he muttered impatiently as he watched itssluggish drift. 

"It's moving towards us, Watson. "

"Is that serious?"

"Very serious, indeed--the one thing upon earth which could havedisarranged my plans. He can't be very long, now. It is already teno'clock. Our success and even his life may depend upon his coming outbefore the fog is over the path. "

The night was clear and fine above us. The stars shone cold and bright, while a half-moon bathed the whole scene in a soft, uncertain light. Before us lay the dark bulk of the house, its serrated roof andbristling chimneys hard outlined against the silver-spangled sky. Broadbars of golden light from the lower windows stretched across the orchardand the moor. One of them was suddenly shut off. The servants had leftthe kitchen. There only remained the lamp in the dining-room where thetwo men, the murderous host and the unconscious guest, still chattedover their cigars. 

Every minute that white woolly plain which covered one-half of the moorwas drifting closer and closer to the house. Already the first thinwisps of it were curling across the golden square of the lighted window. The farther wall of the orchard was already invisible, and the treeswere standing out of a swirl of white vapour. As we watched it thefog-wreaths came crawling round both corners of the house and rolledslowly into one dense bank on which the upper floor and the rooffloated like a strange ship upon a shadowy sea. Holmes struck his handpassionately upon the rock in front of us and stamped his feet in hisimpatience. 

"If he isn't out in a quarter of an hour the path will be covered. Inhalf an hour we won't be able to see our hands in front of us. "

"Shall we move farther back upon higher ground?"

"Yes, I think it would be as well. "

So as the fog-bank flowed onward we fell back before it until we werehalf a mile from the house, and still that dense white sea, with themoon silvering its upper edge, swept slowly and inexorably on. 

"We are going too far, " said Holmes. "We dare not take the chance of hisbeing overtaken before he can reach us. At all costs we must hold ourground where we are. " He dropped on his knees and clapped his ear to theground. "Thank God, I think that I hear him coming. "

A sound of quick steps broke the silence of the moor. Crouching amongthe stones we stared intently at the silver-tipped bank in front of us. The steps grew louder, and through the fog, as through a curtain, therestepped the man whom we were awaiting. He looked round him in surpriseas he emerged into the clear, starlit night. Then he came swiftly alongthe path, passed close to where we lay, and went on up the long slopebehind us. As he walked he glanced continually over either shoulder, like a man who is ill at ease. 

"Hist!" cried Holmes, and I heard the sharp click of a cocking pistol. "Look out! It's coming!"

There was a thin, crisp, continuous patter from somewhere in the heartof that crawling bank. The cloud was within fifty yards of where we lay, and we glared at it, all three, uncertain what horror was about to breakfrom the heart of it. I was at Holmes's elbow, and I glanced for aninstant at his face. It was pale and exultant, his eyes shining brightlyin the moonlight. But suddenly they started forward in a rigid, fixedstare, and his lips parted in amazement. At the same instant Lestradegave a yell of terror and threw himself face downward upon the ground. I sprang to my feet, my inert hand grasping my pistol, my mind paralyzedby the dreadful shape which had sprung out upon us from the shadows ofthe fog. A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such ahound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, itseyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlapwere outlined in flickering flame. Never in the delirious dream ofa disordered brain could anything more savage, more appalling, morehellish be conceived than that dark form and savage face which brokeupon us out of the wall of fog. 

With long bounds the huge black creature was leaping down the track, following hard upon the footsteps of our friend. So paralyzed were we bythe apparition that we allowed him to pass before we had recovered ournerve. Then Holmes and I both fired together, and the creature gave ahideous howl, which showed that one at least had hit him. He did notpause, however, but bounded onward. Far away on the path we saw SirHenry looking back, his face white in the moonlight, his hands raised inhorror, glaring helplessly at the frightful thing which was hunting himdown. But that cry of pain from the hound had blown all our fears to thewinds. If he was vulnerable he was mortal, and if we could wound him wecould kill him. Never have I seen a man run as Holmes ran that night. Iam reckoned fleet of foot, but he outpaced me as much as I outpaced thelittle professional. In front of us as we flew up the track we heardscream after scream from Sir Henry and the deep roar of the hound. I wasin time to see the beast spring upon its victim, hurl him to the ground, and worry at his throat. But the next instant Holmes had emptied fivebarrels of his revolver into the creature's flank. With a last howl ofagony and a vicious snap in the air, it rolled upon its back, four feetpawing furiously, and then fell limp upon its side. I stooped, panting, and pressed my pistol to the dreadful, shimmering head, but it wasuseless to press the trigger. The giant hound was dead. 

Sir Henry lay insensible where he had fallen. We tore away his collar, and Holmes breathed a prayer of gratitude when we saw that there wasno sign of a wound and that the rescue had been in time. Already ourfriend's eyelids shivered and he made a feeble effort to move. Lestradethrust his brandy-flask between the baronet's teeth, and two frightenedeyes were looking up at us. 

"My God!" he whispered. "What was it? What, in heaven's name, was it?"

"It's dead, whatever it is, " said Holmes. "We've laid the family ghostonce and forever. "

In mere size and strength it was a terrible creature which was lyingstretched before us. It was not a pure bloodhound and it was not a puremastiff; but it appeared to be a combination of the two--gaunt, savage, and as large as a small lioness. Even now in the stillness of death, the huge jaws seemed to be dripping with a bluish flame and the small, deep-set, cruel eyes were ringed with fire. I placed my hand upon theglowing muzzle, and as I held them up my own fingers smouldered andgleamed in the darkness. 

"Phosphorus, " I said. 

"A cunning preparation of it, " said Holmes, sniffing at the dead animal. "There is no smell which might have interfered with his power of scent. We owe you a deep apology, Sir Henry, for having exposed you to thisfright. I was prepared for a hound, but not for such a creature as this. And the fog gave us little time to receive him. "

"You have saved my life. "

"Having first endangered it. Are you strong enough to stand?"

"Give me another mouthful of that brandy and I shall be ready foranything. So! Now, if you will help me up. What do you propose to do?"

"To leave you here. You are not fit for further adventures tonight. Ifyou will wait, one or other of us will go back with you to the Hall. "

He tried to stagger to his feet; but he was still ghastly pale andtrembling in every limb. We helped him to a rock, where he sat shiveringwith his face buried in his hands. 

"We must leave you now, " said Holmes. "The rest of our work must bedone, and every moment is of importance. We have our case, and now weonly want our man. 

"It's a thousand to one against our finding him at the house, " hecontinued as we retraced our steps swiftly down the path. "Those shotsmust have told him that the game was up. "

"We were some distance off, and this fog may have deadened them. "

"He followed the hound to call him off--of that you may be certain. No, no, he's gone by this time! But we'll search the house and make sure. "

The front door was open, so we rushed in and hurried from room toroom to the amazement of a doddering old manservant, who met us in thepassage. There was no light save in the dining-room, but Holmes caughtup the lamp and left no corner of the house unexplored. No sign could wesee of the man whom we were chasing. On the upper floor, however, one ofthe bedroom doors was locked. 

"There's someone in here, " cried Lestrade. "I can hear a movement. Openthis door!"

A faint moaning and rustling came from within. Holmes struck the doorjust over the lock with the flat of his foot and it flew open. Pistol inhand, we all three rushed into the room. 

But there was no sign within it of that desperate and defiant villainwhom we expected to see. Instead we were faced by an object so strangeand so unexpected that we stood for a moment staring at it in amazement. 

The room had been fashioned into a small museum, and the walls werelined by a number of glass-topped cases full of that collection ofbutterflies and moths the formation of which had been the relaxation ofthis complex and dangerous man. In the centre of this room there was anupright beam, which had been placed at some period as a support for theold worm-eaten baulk of timber which spanned the roof. To this post afigure was tied, so swathed and muffled in the sheets which had beenused to secure it that one could not for the moment tell whether itwas that of a man or a woman. One towel passed round the throat and wassecured at the back of the pillar. Another covered the lower part ofthe face, and over it two dark eyes--eyes full of grief and shame and adreadful questioning--stared back at us. In a minute we had torn offthe gag, unswathed the bonds, and Mrs. Stapleton sank upon the floor infront of us. As her beautiful head fell upon her chest I saw the clearred weal of a whiplash across her neck. 

"The brute!" cried Holmes. "Here, Lestrade, your brandy-bottle! Put herin the chair! She has fainted from ill-usage and exhaustion. "

She opened her eyes again. 

"Is he safe?" she asked. "Has he escaped?"

"He cannot escape us, madam. "

"No, no, I did not mean my husband. Sir Henry? Is he safe?"

"Yes. "

"And the hound?"

"It is dead. "

She gave a long sigh of satisfaction. 

"Thank God! Thank God! Oh, this villain! See how he has treated me!"She shot her arms out from her sleeves, and we saw with horror that theywere all mottled with bruises. "But this is nothing--nothing! It is mymind and soul that he has tortured and defiled. I could endure it all, ill-usage, solitude, a life of deception, everything, as long as I couldstill cling to the hope that I had his love, but now I know that inthis also I have been his dupe and his tool. " She broke into passionatesobbing as she spoke. 

"You bear him no good will, madam, " said Holmes. "Tell us then where weshall find him. If you have ever aided him in evil, help us now and soatone. "

"There is but one place where he can have fled, " she answered. "There isan old tin mine on an island in the heart of the mire. It was there thathe kept his hound and there also he had made preparations so that hemight have a refuge. That is where he would fly. "

The fog-bank lay like white wool against the window. Holmes held thelamp towards it. 

"See, " said he. "No one could find his way into the Grimpen Miretonight. "

She laughed and clapped her hands. Her eyes and teeth gleamed withfierce merriment. 

"He may find his way in, but never out, " she cried. "How can he see theguiding wands tonight? We planted them together, he and I, to mark thepathway through the mire. Oh, if I could only have plucked them outtoday. Then indeed you would have had him at your mercy!"

It was evident to us that all pursuit was in vain until the fog hadlifted. Meanwhile we left Lestrade in possession of the house whileHolmes and I went back with the baronet to Baskerville Hall. The storyof the Stapletons could no longer be withheld from him, but he tookthe blow bravely when he learned the truth about the woman whom he hadloved. But the shock of the night's adventures had shattered his nerves, and before morning he lay delirious in a high fever under the care ofDr. Mortimer. The two of them were destined to travel together round theworld before Sir Henry had become once more the hale, hearty man that hehad been before he became master of that ill-omened estate. 

And now I come rapidly to the conclusion of this singular narrative, inwhich I have tried to make the reader share those dark fears and vaguesurmises which clouded our lives so long and ended in so tragic amanner. On the morning after the death of the hound the fog had liftedand we were guided by Mrs. Stapleton to the point where they had founda pathway through the bog. It helped us to realize the horror of thiswoman's life when we saw the eagerness and joy with which she laid uson her husband's track. We left her standing upon the thin peninsula offirm, peaty soil which tapered out into the widespread bog. From theend of it a small wand planted here and there showed where the pathzigzagged from tuft to tuft of rushes among those green-scummed pitsand foul quagmires which barred the way to the stranger. Rank reeds andlush, slimy water-plants sent an odour of decay and a heavy miasmaticvapour onto our faces, while a false step plunged us more than oncethigh-deep into the dark, quivering mire, which shook for yards in softundulations around our feet. Its tenacious grip plucked at our heels aswe walked, and when we sank into it it was as if some malignant hand wastugging us down into those obscene depths, so grim and purposeful wasthe clutch in which it held us. Once only we saw a trace that someonehad passed that perilous way before us. From amid a tuft of cotton grasswhich bore it up out of the slime some dark thing was projecting. Holmessank to his waist as he stepped from the path to seize it, and had wenot been there to drag him out he could never have set his footupon firm land again. He held an old black boot in the air. "Meyers, Toronto, " was printed on the leather inside. 

"It is worth a mud bath, " said he. "It is our friend Sir Henry's missingboot. "

"Thrown there by Stapleton in his flight. "

"Exactly. He retained it in his hand after using it to set the houndupon the track. He fled when he knew the game was up, still clutchingit. And he hurled it away at this point of his flight. We know at leastthat he came so far in safety. "

But more than that we were never destined to know, though there was muchwhich we might surmise. There was no chance of finding footsteps in themire, for the rising mud oozed swiftly in upon them, but as we at lastreached firmer ground beyond the morass we all looked eagerly for them. But no slightest sign of them ever met our eyes. If the earth told atrue story, then Stapleton never reached that island of refuge towardswhich he struggled through the fog upon that last night. Somewhere inthe heart of the great Grimpen Mire, down in the foul slime of thehuge morass which had sucked him in, this cold and cruel-hearted man isforever buried. 

Many traces we found of him in the bog-girt island where he had hid hissavage ally. A huge driving-wheel and a shaft half-filled with rubbishshowed the position of an abandoned mine. Beside it were the crumblingremains of the cottages of the miners, driven away no doubt by the foulreek of the surrounding swamp. In one of these a staple and chain witha quantity of gnawed bones showed where the animal had been confined. A skeleton with a tangle of brown hair adhering to it lay among thedebris. 

"A dog!" said Holmes. "By Jove, a curly-haired spaniel. Poor Mortimerwill never see his pet again. Well, I do not know that this placecontains any secret which we have not already fathomed. He could hidehis hound, but he could not hush its voice, and hence came those crieswhich even in daylight were not pleasant to hear. On an emergency hecould keep the hound in the out-house at Merripit, but it was always arisk, and it was only on the supreme day, which he regarded as the endof all his efforts, that he dared do it. This paste in the tin is nodoubt the luminous mixture with which the creature was daubed. It wassuggested, of course, by the story of the family hell-hound, and by thedesire to frighten old Sir Charles to death. No wonder the poor devil ofa convict ran and screamed, even as our friend did, and as we ourselvesmight have done, when he saw such a creature bounding through thedarkness of the moor upon his track. It was a cunning device, for, apartfrom the chance of driving your victim to his death, what peasant wouldventure to inquire too closely into such a creature should he get sightof it, as many have done, upon the moor? I said it in London, Watson, and I say it again now, that never yet have we helped to hunt down amore dangerous man than he who is lying yonder"--he swept his long armtowards the huge mottled expanse of green-splotched bog which stretchedaway until it merged into the russet slopes of the moor. 

Chapter 15. A Retrospection

It was the end of November, and Holmes and I sat, upon a raw and foggynight, on either side of a blazing fire in our sitting-room in BakerStreet. Since the tragic upshot of our visit to Devonshire he had beenengaged in two affairs of the utmost importance, in the first of whichhe had exposed the atrocious conduct of Colonel Upwood in connectionwith the famous card scandal of the Nonpareil Club, while in the secondhe had defended the unfortunate Mme. Montpensier from the chargeof murder which hung over her in connection with the death of herstep-daughter, Mlle. Carere, the young lady who, as it will beremembered, was found six months later alive and married in New York. My friend was in excellent spirits over the success which had attendeda succession of difficult and important cases, so that I was able toinduce him to discuss the details of the Baskerville mystery. I hadwaited patiently for the opportunity for I was aware that he would neverpermit cases to overlap, and that his clear and logical mind would notbe drawn from its present work to dwell upon memories of the past. SirHenry and Dr. Mortimer were, however, in London, on their way to thatlong voyage which had been recommended for the restoration of hisshattered nerves. They had called upon us that very afternoon, so thatit was natural that the subject should come up for discussion. 

"The whole course of events, " said Holmes, "from the point of view ofthe man who called himself Stapleton was simple and direct, althoughto us, who had no means in the beginning of knowing the motives ofhis actions and could only learn part of the facts, it all appearedexceedingly complex. I have had the advantage of two conversations withMrs. Stapleton, and the case has now been so entirely cleared up that Iam not aware that there is anything which has remained a secret to us. You will find a few notes upon the matter under the heading B in myindexed list of cases. "

"Perhaps you would kindly give me a sketch of the course of events frommemory. "

"Certainly, though I cannot guarantee that I carry all the facts in mymind. Intense mental concentration has a curious way of blotting outwhat has passed. The barrister who has his case at his fingers' ends andis able to argue with an expert upon his own subject finds that a weekor two of the courts will drive it all out of his head once more. Soeach of my cases displaces the last, and Mlle. Carere has blurred myrecollection of Baskerville Hall. Tomorrow some other little problem maybe submitted to my notice which will in turn dispossess the fair Frenchlady and the infamous Upwood. So far as the case of the hound goes, however, I will give you the course of events as nearly as I can, andyou will suggest anything which I may have forgotten. 

"My inquiries show beyond all question that the family portrait did notlie, and that this fellow was indeed a Baskerville. He was a son of thatRodger Baskerville, the younger brother of Sir Charles, who fled witha sinister reputation to South America, where he was said to have diedunmarried. He did, as a matter of fact, marry, and had one child, thisfellow, whose real name is the same as his father's. He married BerylGarcia, one of the beauties of Costa Rica, and, having purloined aconsiderable sum of public money, he changed his name to Vandeleur andfled to England, where he established a school in the east of Yorkshire. His reason for attempting this special line of business was that he hadstruck up an acquaintance with a consumptive tutor upon the voyagehome, and that he had used this man's ability to make the undertaking asuccess. Fraser, the tutor, died however, and the school which had begunwell sank from disrepute into infamy. The Vandeleurs found it convenientto change their name to Stapleton, and he brought the remains of hisfortune, his schemes for the future, and his taste for entomology tothe south of England. I learned at the British Museum that he was arecognized authority upon the subject, and that the name of Vandeleurhas been permanently attached to a certain moth which he had, in hisYorkshire days, been the first to describe. 

"We now come to that portion of his life which has proved to be of suchintense interest to us. The fellow had evidently made inquiry and foundthat only two lives intervened between him and a valuable estate. Whenhe went to Devonshire his plans were, I believe, exceedingly hazy, butthat he meant mischief from the first is evident from the way in whichhe took his wife with him in the character of his sister. The idea ofusing her as a decoy was clearly already in his mind, though he may nothave been certain how the details of his plot were to be arranged. Hemeant in the end to have the estate, and he was ready to use any toolor run any risk for that end. His first act was to establish himself asnear to his ancestral home as he could, and his second was to cultivatea friendship with Sir Charles Baskerville and with the neighbours. 

"The baronet himself told him about the family hound, and so preparedthe way for his own death. Stapleton, as I will continue to call him, knew that the old man's heart was weak and that a shock would kill him. So much he had learned from Dr. Mortimer. He had heard also that SirCharles was superstitious and had taken this grim legend very seriously. His ingenious mind instantly suggested a way by which the baronet couldbe done to death, and yet it would be hardly possible to bring home theguilt to the real murderer. 

"Having conceived the idea he proceeded to carry it out withconsiderable finesse. An ordinary schemer would have been contentto work with a savage hound. The use of artificial means to make thecreature diabolical was a flash of genius upon his part. The dog hebought in London from Ross and Mangles, the dealers in Fulham Road. Itwas the strongest and most savage in their possession. He brought itdown by the North Devon line and walked a great distance over the moorso as to get it home without exciting any remarks. He had already on hisinsect hunts learned to penetrate the Grimpen Mire, and so had found asafe hiding-place for the creature. Here he kennelled it and waited hischance. 

"But it was some time coming. The old gentleman could not be decoyedoutside of his grounds at night. Several times Stapleton lurked aboutwith his hound, but without avail. It was during these fruitless queststhat he, or rather his ally, was seen by peasants, and that the legendof the demon dog received a new confirmation. He had hoped that his wifemight lure Sir Charles to his ruin, but here she proved unexpectedlyindependent. She would not endeavour to entangle the old gentleman ina sentimental attachment which might deliver him over to his enemy. Threats and even, I am sorry to say, blows refused to move her. Shewould have nothing to do with it, and for a time Stapleton was at adeadlock. 

"He found a way out of his difficulties through the chance that SirCharles, who had conceived a friendship for him, made him the ministerof his charity in the case of this unfortunate woman, Mrs. Laura Lyons. By representing himself as a single man he acquired complete influenceover her, and he gave her to understand that in the event of herobtaining a divorce from her husband he would marry her. His plans weresuddenly brought to a head by his knowledge that Sir Charles was aboutto leave the Hall on the advice of Dr. Mortimer, with whose opinion hehimself pretended to coincide. He must act at once, or his victim mightget beyond his power. He therefore put pressure upon Mrs. Lyons towrite this letter, imploring the old man to give her an interview onthe evening before his departure for London. He then, by a speciousargument, prevented her from going, and so had the chance for which hehad waited. 

"Driving back in the evening from Coombe Tracey he was in time to gethis hound, to treat it with his infernal paint, and to bring the beastround to the gate at which he had reason to expect that he would findthe old gentleman waiting. The dog, incited by its master, sprang overthe wicket-gate and pursued the unfortunate baronet, who fled screamingdown the yew alley. In that gloomy tunnel it must indeed have been adreadful sight to see that huge black creature, with its flaming jawsand blazing eyes, bounding after its victim. He fell dead at the endof the alley from heart disease and terror. The hound had kept upon thegrassy border while the baronet had run down the path, so that no trackbut the man's was visible. On seeing him lying still the creature hadprobably approached to sniff at him, but finding him dead had turnedaway again. It was then that it left the print which was actuallyobserved by Dr. Mortimer. The hound was called off and hurried away toits lair in the Grimpen Mire, and a mystery was left which puzzledthe authorities, alarmed the countryside, and finally brought the casewithin the scope of our observation. 

"So much for the death of Sir Charles Baskerville. You perceive thedevilish cunning of it, for really it would be almost impossible to makea case against the real murderer. His only accomplice was one who couldnever give him away, and the grotesque, inconceivable nature ofthe device only served to make it more effective. Both of the womenconcerned in the case, Mrs. Stapleton and Mrs. Laura Lyons, were leftwith a strong suspicion against Stapleton. Mrs. Stapleton knew that hehad designs upon the old man, and also of the existence of the hound. Mrs. Lyons knew neither of these things, but had been impressed by thedeath occurring at the time of an uncancelled appointment which was onlyknown to him. However, both of them were under his influence, and he hadnothing to fear from them. The first half of his task was successfullyaccomplished but the more difficult still remained. 

"It is possible that Stapleton did not know of the existence of an heirin Canada. In any case he would very soon learn it from his friend Dr. Mortimer, and he was told by the latter all details about the arrival ofHenry Baskerville. Stapleton's first idea was that this young strangerfrom Canada might possibly be done to death in London without comingdown to Devonshire at all. He distrusted his wife ever since she hadrefused to help him in laying a trap for the old man, and he dared notleave her long out of his sight for fear he should lose his influenceover her. It was for this reason that he took her to London with him. They lodged, I find, at the Mexborough Private Hotel, in Craven Street, which was actually one of those called upon by my agent in searchof evidence. Here he kept his wife imprisoned in her room whilehe, disguised in a beard, followed Dr. Mortimer to Baker Street andafterwards to the station and to the Northumberland Hotel. His wife hadsome inkling of his plans; but she had such a fear of her husband--afear founded upon brutal ill-treatment--that she dare not write to warnthe man whom she knew to be in danger. If the letter should fall intoStapleton's hands her own life would not be safe. Eventually, as weknow, she adopted the expedient of cutting out the words which wouldform the message, and addressing the letter in a disguised hand. Itreached the baronet, and gave him the first warning of his danger. 

"It was very essential for Stapleton to get some article of Sir Henry'sattire so that, in case he was driven to use the dog, he might alwayshave the means of setting him upon his track. With characteristicpromptness and audacity he set about this at once, and we cannot doubtthat the boots or chamber-maid of the hotel was well bribed to help himin his design. By chance, however, the first boot which was procured forhim was a new one and, therefore, useless for his purpose. He then hadit returned and obtained another--a most instructive incident, since itproved conclusively to my mind that we were dealing with a real hound, as no other supposition could explain this anxiety to obtain an oldboot and this indifference to a new one. The more outre and grotesque anincident is the more carefully it deserves to be examined, and the verypoint which appears to complicate a case is, when duly considered andscientifically handled, the one which is most likely to elucidate it. 

"Then we had the visit from our friends next morning, shadowed alwaysby Stapleton in the cab. From his knowledge of our rooms and of myappearance, as well as from his general conduct, I am inclined to thinkthat Stapleton's career of crime has been by no means limited to thissingle Baskerville affair. It is suggestive that during the last threeyears there have been four considerable burglaries in the west country, for none of which was any criminal ever arrested. The last of these, atFolkestone Court, in May, was remarkable for the cold-blooded pistollingof the page, who surprised the masked and solitary burglar. I cannotdoubt that Stapleton recruited his waning resources in this fashion, andthat for years he has been a desperate and dangerous man. 

"We had an example of his readiness of resource that morning when he gotaway from us so successfully, and also of his audacity in sending backmy own name to me through the cabman. From that moment he understoodthat I had taken over the case in London, and that therefore there wasno chance for him there. He returned to Dartmoor and awaited the arrivalof the baronet. "

"One moment!" said I. "You have, no doubt, described the sequenceof events correctly, but there is one point which you have leftunexplained. What became of the hound when its master was in London?"

"I have given some attention to this matter and it is undoubtedly ofimportance. There can be no question that Stapleton had a confidant, though it is unlikely that he ever placed himself in his power bysharing all his plans with him. There was an old manservant at MerripitHouse, whose name was Anthony. His connection with the Stapletons canbe traced for several years, as far back as the school-mastering days, so that he must have been aware that his master and mistress were reallyhusband and wife. This man has disappeared and has escaped from thecountry. It is suggestive that Anthony is not a common name in England, while Antonio is so in all Spanish or Spanish-American countries. Theman, like Mrs. Stapleton herself, spoke good English, but with a curiouslisping accent. I have myself seen this old man cross the GrimpenMire by the path which Stapleton had marked out. It is very probable, therefore, that in the absence of his master it was he who cared for thehound, though he may never have known the purpose for which the beastwas used. 

"The Stapletons then went down to Devonshire, whither they were soonfollowed by Sir Henry and you. One word now as to how I stood myself atthat time. It may possibly recur to your memory that when I examinedthe paper upon which the printed words were fastened I made a closeinspection for the water-mark. In doing so I held it within a few inchesof my eyes, and was conscious of a faint smell of the scent known aswhite jessamine. There are seventy-five perfumes, which it is verynecessary that a criminal expert should be able to distinguish from eachother, and cases have more than once within my own experience dependedupon their prompt recognition. The scent suggested the presence of alady, and already my thoughts began to turn towards the Stapletons. ThusI had made certain of the hound, and had guessed at the criminal beforeever we went to the west country. 

"It was my game to watch Stapleton. It was evident, however, that Icould not do this if I were with you, since he would be keenly on hisguard. I deceived everybody, therefore, yourself included, and I camedown secretly when I was supposed to be in London. My hardships werenot so great as you imagined, though such trifling details must neverinterfere with the investigation of a case. I stayed for the mostpart at Coombe Tracey, and only used the hut upon the moor when it wasnecessary to be near the scene of action. Cartwright had come down withme, and in his disguise as a country boy he was of great assistanceto me. I was dependent upon him for food and clean linen. When I waswatching Stapleton, Cartwright was frequently watching you, so that Iwas able to keep my hand upon all the strings. 

"I have already told you that your reports reached me rapidly, beingforwarded instantly from Baker Street to Coombe Tracey. They were ofgreat service to me, and especially that one incidentally truthful pieceof biography of Stapleton's. I was able to establish the identity ofthe man and the woman and knew at last exactly how I stood. The casehad been considerably complicated through the incident of the escapedconvict and the relations between him and the Barrymores. This also youcleared up in a very effective way, though I had already come to thesame conclusions from my own observations. 

"By the time that you discovered me upon the moor I had a completeknowledge of the whole business, but I had not a case which could go toa jury. Even Stapleton's attempt upon Sir Henry that night which endedin the death of the unfortunate convict did not help us much in provingmurder against our man. There seemed to be no alternative but tocatch him red-handed, and to do so we had to use Sir Henry, alone andapparently unprotected, as a bait. We did so, and at the cost of asevere shock to our client we succeeded in completing our case anddriving Stapleton to his destruction. That Sir Henry should have beenexposed to this is, I must confess, a reproach to my management of thecase, but we had no means of foreseeing the terrible and paralyzingspectacle which the beast presented, nor could we predict the fog whichenabled him to burst upon us at such short notice. We succeeded in ourobject at a cost which both the specialist and Dr. Mortimer assure mewill be a temporary one. A long journey may enable our friend to recovernot only from his shattered nerves but also from his wounded feelings. His love for the lady was deep and sincere, and to him the saddest partof all this black business was that he should have been deceived by her. 

"It only remains to indicate the part which she had played throughout. There can be no doubt that Stapleton exercised an influence over herwhich may have been love or may have been fear, or very possibly both, since they are by no means incompatible emotions. It was, at least, absolutely effective. At his command she consented to pass as hissister, though he found the limits of his power over her when heendeavoured to make her the direct accessory to murder. She was ready towarn Sir Henry so far as she could without implicating her husband, andagain and again she tried to do so. Stapleton himself seems to have beencapable of jealousy, and when he saw the baronet paying court to thelady, even though it was part of his own plan, still he could not helpinterrupting with a passionate outburst which revealed the fiery soulwhich his self-contained manner so cleverly concealed. By encouragingthe intimacy he made it certain that Sir Henry would frequently cometo Merripit House and that he would sooner or later get the opportunitywhich he desired. On the day of the crisis, however, his wife turnedsuddenly against him. She had learned something of the death of theconvict, and she knew that the hound was being kept in the outhouse onthe evening that Sir Henry was coming to dinner. She taxed her husbandwith his intended crime, and a furious scene followed in which he showedher for the first time that she had a rival in his love. Her fidelityturned in an instant to bitter hatred, and he saw that she would betrayhim. He tied her up, therefore, that she might have no chance of warningSir Henry, and he hoped, no doubt, that when the whole countryside putdown the baronet's death to the curse of his family, as they certainlywould do, he could win his wife back to accept an accomplished fact andto keep silent upon what she knew. In this I fancy that in any casehe made a miscalculation, and that, if we had not been there, his doomwould none the less have been sealed. A woman of Spanish blood doesnot condone such an injury so lightly. And now, my dear Watson, withoutreferring to my notes, I cannot give you a more detailed account ofthis curious case. I do not know that anything essential has been leftunexplained. "

"He could not hope to frighten Sir Henry to death as he had done the olduncle with his bogie hound. "

"The beast was savage and half-starved. If its appearance did notfrighten its victim to death, at least it would paralyze the resistancewhich might be offered. "

"No doubt. There only remains one difficulty. If Stapleton came into thesuccession, how could he explain the fact that he, the heir, had beenliving unannounced under another name so close to the property? Howcould he claim it without causing suspicion and inquiry?"

"It is a formidable difficulty, and I fear that you ask too much whenyou expect me to solve it. The past and the present are within the fieldof my inquiry, but what a man may do in the future is a hard questionto answer. Mrs. Stapleton has heard her husband discuss the problem onseveral occasions. There were three possible courses. He might claim theproperty from South America, establish his identity before the Britishauthorities there and so obtain the fortune without ever coming toEngland at all, or he might adopt an elaborate disguise during theshort time that he need be in London; or, again, he might furnish anaccomplice with the proofs and papers, putting him in as heir, andretaining a claim upon some proportion of his income. We cannot doubtfrom what we know of him that he would have found some way out of thedifficulty. And now, my dear Watson, we have had some weeks of severework, and for one evening, I think, we may turn our thoughts into morepleasant channels. I have a box for 'Les Huguenots. ' Have you heard theDe Reszkes? Might I trouble you then to be ready in half an hour, and wecan stop at Marcini's for a little dinner on the way?"