kitchen and bath dealers

the hound of the baskervilles by sir arthurconan doyle chapter 1. mr. sherlock holmes mr. sherlock holmes, who was usually verylate in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night,was seated at the breakfast table. i stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stickwhich our visitor had left behind him the night before. it was a fine, thick piece ofwood, bulbous-headed, of the sort which is known as a "penang lawyer." just under thehead was a broad silver band nearly an inch across. "to james mortimer, m.r.c.s., fromhis friends of the c.c.h.," was engraved upon it, with the date "1884." it was just sucha stick 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, andi had given him no sign of my occupation. "how did you know what i was doing? i believeyou have eyes in the back of your head." "i have, at least, a well-polished, silver-platedcoffee-pot in front of me," 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 no notion of his errand,this accidental souvenir becomes of importance. let me hear you reconstruct the man by anexamination of it." "i think," said i, following as far as i couldthe methods of my companion, "that dr. mortimer

is a successful, elderly medical man, well-esteemedsince those who know him give him this mark of their appreciation." "good!" said holmes. "excellent!" "i think also that the probability is in favourof his being a country practitioner who does a great deal of his visiting on foot." "why so?" "because this stick, though originally a veryhandsome one has been so knocked about that i can hardly imagine a town practitioner carryingit. the thick-iron ferrule is worn down, so it is evident that he has done a great amountof walking with it."

"perfectly sound!" said holmes. "and then again, there is the 'friends ofthe c.c.h.' i should guess that to be the something hunt, the local hunt to whose membershe has possibly given some surgical assistance, and which has made him a small presentationin return." "really, watson, you excel yourself," saidholmes, pushing back his chair and lighting a cigarette. "i am bound to say that in allthe accounts which you have been so good as to give of my own small achievements you havehabitually underrated your own abilities. it may be that you are not yourself luminous,but you are a conductor of light. some people without possessing genius have a remarkablepower of stimulating it. i confess, my dear

fellow, that i am very much in your debt." he had never said as much before, and i mustadmit that his words gave me keen pleasure, for i had often been piqued by his indifferenceto my admiration and to the attempts which i had made to give publicity to his methods.i was proud, too, to think that i had so far mastered his system as to apply it in a waywhich earned his approval. he now took the stick from my hands and examined it for afew minutes with his naked eyes. then with an expression of interest he laid down hiscigarette, and carrying the cane to the window, he looked over it again with a convex lens. "interesting, though elementary," said heas he returned to his favourite corner of

the settee. "there are certainly one or twoindications upon the stick. it gives us the basis for several deductions." "has anything escaped me?" i asked with someself-importance. "i trust that there is nothing of consequence which i have overlooked?" "i am afraid, my dear watson, that most ofyour conclusions were erroneous. when i said that you stimulated me i meant, to be frank,that in noting your fallacies i was occasionally guided towards the truth. not that you areentirely wrong in this instance. the man is certainly a country practitioner. and he walksa good deal." "then i was right."

"to that extent." "but that was all." "no, no, my dear watson, not all—by no meansall. i would suggest, for example, that a presentation to a doctor is more likely tocome from a hospital than from a hunt, and that when the initials 'c.c.' are placed beforethat hospital the words 'charing cross' very naturally suggest themselves." "you may be right." "the probability lies in that direction. andif we take this as a working hypothesis we have a fresh basis from which to start ourconstruction of this unknown visitor."

"well, then, supposing that 'c.c.h.' doesstand for 'charing cross hospital,' what further inferences may we draw?" "do none suggest themselves? you know my methods.apply them!" "i can only think of the obvious conclusionthat the man has practised in town before going to the country." "i think that we might venture a little fartherthan this. look at it in this light. on what occasion would it be most probable that sucha presentation would be made? when would his friends unite to give him a pledge of theirgood will? obviously at the moment when dr. mortimer withdrew from the service of thehospital in order to start a practice for

himself. we know there has been a presentation.we believe there has been 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 the occasionof the change?" "it certainly seems probable." "now, you will observe that he could not havebeen on the staff of the hospital, since only a man well-established in a london practicecould hold such a position, and such a one would not drift into the country. what washe, then? if he was in the hospital and yet not on the staff he could only have been ahouse-surgeon or a house-physician—little more than a senior student. and he left fiveyears ago—the date is on the stick. so your

grave, middle-aged family practitioner vanishesinto thin air, my dear watson, and there emerges a young fellow under thirty, amiable, unambitious,absent-minded, and the possessor of a favourite dog, which i should describe roughly as beinglarger than a terrier and smaller than a mastiff." i laughed incredulously as sherlock holmesleaned back in his settee and blew little wavering rings of smoke up to the ceiling. "as to the latter part, i have no means ofchecking you," said i, "but at least it is not difficult to find out a few particularsabout the man's age and professional career." from my small medical shelf i took down themedical directory and turned up the name. there were several mortimers, but only onewho could be our visitor. i read his record

aloud. "mortimer, james, m.r.c.s., 1882, grimpen,dartmoor, devon. house-surgeon, from 1882 to 1884, at charingcross hospital. winner of the jackson prize for comparativepathology, with essay entitled 'is disease a reversion?'corresponding member of the swedish pathological society.author of 'some freaks of atavism' (lancet 1882). 'dowe progress?' (journal of psychology, march, 1883). medicalofficer for the parishes of grimpen, thorsley, andhigh barrow."

"no mention of that local hunt, watson," saidholmes with a mischievous smile, "but a country doctor, as you very astutely observed. i thinkthat i am fairly justified in my inferences. as to the adjectives, i said, if i rememberright, amiable, unambitious, and absent-minded. it is my experience that it is only an amiableman in this world who receives testimonials, only an unambitious one who abandons a londoncareer for the country, and only an absent-minded one who leaves his stick and not his visiting-cardafter waiting an hour in your room." "and the dog?" "has been in the habit of carrying this stickbehind his master. being a heavy stick the dog has held it tightly by the middle, andthe marks of his teeth are very plainly visible.

the dog's jaw, as shown in the space betweenthese marks, is too broad in my opinion for a terrier and not broad enough for a mastiff.it may have been—yes, by jove, it is a curly-haired spaniel." he had risen and paced the room as he spoke.now he halted in the recess of the window. there was such a ring of conviction in hisvoice that i glanced up in surprise. "my dear fellow, how can you possibly be sosure of that?" "for the very simple reason that i see thedog himself on our very door-step, and there is the ring of its owner. don't move, i begyou, watson. he is a professional brother of yours, and your presence may be of assistanceto me. now is the dramatic moment of fate,

watson, when you hear a step upon the stairwhich is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or ill. what does dr.james mortimer, the man of science, ask of sherlock holmes, the specialist in crime?come in!" the appearance of our visitor was a surpriseto me, since i had expected a typical country practitioner. he was a very tall, thin man,with a long nose like a beak, which jutted out between two keen, gray eyes, set closelytogether and sparkling brightly from behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. he was cladin a professional but rather slovenly fashion, for his frock-coat was dingy and his trousersfrayed. though young, his long back was already bowed, and he walked with a forward thrustof his head and a general air of peering benevolence.

as he entered his eyes fell upon the stickin holmes's hand, and he ran towards 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. i wouldnot 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 occasionof my marriage." "dear, dear, that's bad!" said holmes, shakinghis head. dr. mortimer blinked through his glasses inmild astonishment. "why was it bad?"

"only that you have disarranged our littledeductions. your marriage, you say?" "yes, sir. i married, and so left the hospital,and with it all hopes of a consulting practice. it was necessary to make a home of my own." "come, come, we are not so far wrong, afterall," 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 pickerup of shells on the shores of 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 yourname mentioned in connection with that of your friend. you interest me very much, mr.holmes. i had hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked supra-orbitaldevelopment. would you have any objection to my running my finger along your parietalfissure? a cast of your skull, sir, until the original is available, would be an ornamentto any anthropological museum. it is not my intention to be fulsome, but i confess thati covet your skull." sherlock holmes waved our strange visitorinto a chair. "you are an enthusiast in your line of thought, i perceive, sir, as i amin mine," said he. "i observe from your forefinger that you make your own cigarettes. have nohesitation in lighting one."

the man drew out paper and tobacco and twirledthe one up in the other with surprising dexterity. he had long, quivering fingers as agile andrestless as the antennae of an insect. holmes was silent, but his little dartingglances showed me the interest which he took in our curious companion. "i presume, sir,"said he at last, "that it was not merely for the purpose of examining my skull that youhave done me the honour to call here last night and again today?" "no, sir, no; though i am happy to have hadthe opportunity of doing that as well. i came to you, mr. holmes, because i recognized thati am myself an unpractical man and because i am suddenly confronted with a most seriousand extraordinary problem. recognizing, as

i do, that you are the second highest expertin europe—" "indeed, sir! may i inquire who has the honourto be the first?" asked holmes with some asperity. "to the man of precisely scientific mind thework of monsieur bertillon must always appeal strongly." "then had you not better consult him?" "i said, sir, to the precisely scientificmind. but as a practical man of affairs it is acknowledged that you stand alone. i trust,sir, that i have not inadvertently—" "just a little," said holmes. "i think, dr.mortimer, you would do wisely if without more ado you would kindly tell me plainly whatthe exact 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," saidholmes. "it is an old manuscript." "early eighteenth century, unless it is aforgery." "how can you say that, sir?" "you have presented an inch or two of it tomy examination all the time that you have been talking. it would be a poor expert whocould not give the 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 drewit 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 much excitement in devonshire.i may say that i was his personal friend as well as his medical attendant. he was a strong-mindedman, sir, shrewd, practical, and as unimaginative as i am myself. yet he took this documentvery seriously, and his mind was prepared for just such an end as did eventually overtakehim." holmes stretched out his hand for the manuscriptand flattened it upon his knee. "you will

observe, watson, the alternative use of thelong s and the short. it is one of several indications which enabled me to fix the date." i looked over his shoulder at the yellow paperand the faded script. at the 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 legendwhich runs in the baskerville family." "but i understand that it is something moremodern and practical upon which you wish to consult me?" "most modern. a most practical, pressing matter,which must be decided within 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 hisfinger-tips together, and closed his eyes, with an air of resignation. dr. mortimer turnedthe manuscript to the light and read in a high, cracking voice the following curious,old-world narrative: "of the origin of the hound of the baskervillesthere have been many statements, yet as i come ina direct line from hugo baskerville, and as i had thestory from my father, who also had it from his, i haveset it down

with all belief that it occurred even as ishere set forth. and i would have you believe, my sons,that the same justice which punishes sin may also mostgraciously forgive it, and that no ban is so heavy butthat by prayer and repentance it may be removed. learn thenfrom this story not to fear the fruits of the past,but rather to be circumspect in the future, that those foulpassions whereby our family has suffered so grievouslymay 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 clarendoni most earnestly commend to your attention) thismanor 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 mighthave pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished inthose parts, but there was in him a certain wanton andcruel humour which made his name a by-word through thewest. 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 baskervilleestate. but the young maiden, being discreet and ofgood repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evilname. 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 fatherand brothers being from home, as he well knew.when they had

brought her to the hall the maiden was placedin an upper chamber, while hugo and his friends sat downto a long carouse, as was their nightly custom. now,the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turnedat the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which cameup to her from below, for they say that the words used byhugo baskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blastthe man who said them. at last in the stress of her fearshe did that which might have daunted the bravest or mostactive man,

for by the aid of the growth of ivy whichcovered (and still covers) the south wall she came downfrom under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, therebeing three leagues betwixt the hall and her father'sfarm. "it chanced that some little time later hugoleft his guests to carry food and drink—with otherworse things, perchance—to his captive, and so found thecage empty and the bird escaped. then, as it would seem,he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing downthe stairs

into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the greattable, flagons and trenchers flying before him, andhe cried aloud before all the company that he wouldthat very night render his body and soul to the powersof evil if he might but overtake the wench. and whilethe revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one morewicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, criedout that they should put the hounds upon her. whereathugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms thatthey should

saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, andgiving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swungthem to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlightover the moor. "now, for some space the revellers stood agape,unable to understand all that had been done in suchhaste. but anon their bemused wits awoke to the natureof the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands.everything was now in an uproar, some calling for theirpistols, some for their horses, and some for anotherflask of

wine. but at length some sense came back totheir crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen innumber, took horse and started in pursuit. the moon shoneclear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, takingthat course which the maid must needs have taken if shewere to reach her own home. "they had gone a mile or two when they passedone of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and theycried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. and theman, as

the story goes, was so crazed with fear thathe could scarce speak, but at last he said that hehad indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon hertrack. 'but i have seen more than that,' said he, 'forhugo baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ranmute behind him such a hound of hell as god forbid shouldever be at my heels.' so the drunken squires cursed theshepherd and rode onward. but soon their skins turnedcold, for there came a galloping across the moor, andthe black

mare, dabbled with white froth, went pastwith trailing bridle and empty saddle. then the revellersrode close together, for a great fear was on them, butthey still followed over the moor, though each, had hebeen alone, would have been right glad to have turnedhis horse's head. riding slowly in this fashion they cameat last upon the hounds. these, though known for theirvalour and their breed, were whimpering in a clusterat the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it,upon the

moor, some slinking away and some, with startinghackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valleybefore them. "the company had come to a halt, more sobermen, as you may guess, than when they started. the mostof them would by no means advance, but three of them,the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forwarddown the goyal. now, it opened into a broad space in whichstood two of those great stones, still to be seen there,which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the daysof old.

the moon was shining bright upon the clearing,and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where shehad fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. but it was notthe sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the bodyof hugo baskerville lying near her, which raised thehair upon the heads of these three dare-devil roysterers,but it was that, standing over hugo, and pluckingat his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast,shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound thatever mortal

eye has rested upon. and even as they lookedthe thing tore the throat out of hugo baskerville, onwhich, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jawsupon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dearlife, still screaming, across the moor. one, it is said,died that very night of what he had seen, and the othertwain were but broken men for the rest of their days. "such is the tale, my sons, of the comingof the hound which is said to have plagued the family sosorely ever

since. if i have set it down it is becausethat which is clearly known hath less terror than thatwhich is but hinted at and guessed. nor can it be deniedthat 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 goodnessof providence, which would not forever punish the innocentbeyond that third or fourth generation which is threatenedin holy writ. to that providence, my sons, i herebycommend

you, and i counsel you by way of caution toforbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours whenthe powers of evil are exalted. "[this from hugo baskerville to his sons rodgerand john, with instructions that they say nothing thereofto their sister elizabeth.]" when dr. mortimer had finished reading thissingular narrative he pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and stared across at mr.sherlock holmes. the latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire.

"well?" said he. "do you not find it interesting?" "to a collector of fairy tales." dr. mortimer drew a folded newspaper out ofhis pocket. "now, mr. holmes, we will give you somethinga little more recent. this is the devon county chronicle of may 14th of this year. it isa short account of the facts elicited at the death of sir charles baskerville which occurreda few days before that date." my friend leaned a little forward and hisexpression became intent. our visitor readjusted his glasses and began:

"the recent sudden death of sir charles baskerville,whose name has been mentioned as the probable liberalcandidate for mid-devon at the next election, has casta gloom over the county. though sir charles had residedat baskerville hall for a comparatively short period hisamiability of character and extreme generosity had won theaffection and respect of all who had been brought intocontact with him. in these days of nouveaux riches it isrefreshing to find a case where the scion of an old countyfamily

which has fallen upon evil days is able tomake his own fortune and to bring it back with him to restorethe fallen grandeur of his line. sir charles,as is well known, made large sums of money in south africanspeculation. more wise than those who go on until the wheelturns against them, he realized his gains and returnedto england with them. it is only two years since he tookup his residence at baskerville hall, and it is commontalk how large were those schemes of reconstructionand improvement

which have been interrupted by his death.being himself childless, it was his openly expressed desirethat the whole countryside should, within his own lifetime,profit by his good fortune, and many will have personalreasons for bewailing his untimely end. his generousdonations to local and county charities have been frequentlychronicled in these columns. "the circumstances connected with the deathof sir charles cannot be said to have been entirely clearedup by the inquest, but at least enough has been doneto dispose of

those rumours to which local superstitionhas given rise. there is no reason whatever to suspect foulplay, or to imagine that death could be from any but naturalcauses. sir charles was a widower, and a man who maybe said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habitof mind. in spite of his considerable wealth he wassimple in his personal tastes, and his indoor servants atbaskerville 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 timebeen impaired, and points especially to some affectionof the heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour,breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression.dr. james mortimer, the friend and medical attendant ofthe deceased, has given evidence to the same effect. "the facts of the case are simple. sir charlesbaskerville was in the habit every night before goingto bed of walking

down the famous yew alley of baskerville hall.the evidence of the barrymores shows that this had beenhis custom. on the fourth of may sir charles had declaredhis intention of starting next day for london, and had orderedbarrymore to prepare his luggage. that night he wentout as usual for his nocturnal walk, in the course of whichhe was in the habit of smoking a cigar. he never returned.at twelve o'clock barrymore, finding the halldoor still open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, wentin search

of his master. the day had been wet, and sircharles's footmarks were easily traced down the alley.halfway down this walk there is a gate which leads outon to the moor. there were indications that sir charles hadstood for some little time here. he then proceeded down thealley, and it was at the far end of it that his bodywas discovered. one fact which has not been explained is thestatement of barrymore that his master's footprintsaltered their character from the time that he passed themoor-gate, and

that he appeared from thence onward to havebeen 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 worsefor drink. he declares that he heard cries but is unableto state from what direction they came. no signs ofviolence were to be discovered upon sir charles's person,and though the doctor's evidence pointed to an almostincredible facial distortion—so great that dr. mortimerrefused at

first to believe that it was indeed his friendand patient who lay before him—it was explained thatthat is a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoeaand death from cardiac exhaustion. this explanation was borneout by the post-mortem examination, which showedlong-standing organic disease, and the coroner's jury returneda verdict in accordance with the medical evidence.it is well that this is so, for it is obviouslyof the utmost importance that sir charles's heir shouldsettle at the

hall and continue the good work which hasbeen so sadly interrupted. had the prosaic finding of thecoroner not finally put an end to the romantic storieswhich have been whispered in connection with the affair, itmight have been difficult to find a tenant for baskervillehall. it is understood that the next of kin is mr. henrybaskerville, if he be still alive, the son of sir charlesbaskerville's younger brother. the young man when last heardof was in america, and inquiries are being institutedwith a

view to informing him of his good fortune." dr. mortimer refolded his paper and replacedit in his pocket. "those are the public facts, mr. holmes, in connection with the death ofsir charles baskerville." "i must thank you," said sherlock holmes,"for calling my attention to a case which certainly presents some features of interest.i had observed some newspaper comment at the time, but i was exceedingly preoccupied bythat little affair of the vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the pope i losttouch with several interesting english cases. this article, you say, contains all the publicfacts?" "it does."

"then let me have the private ones." he leanedback, put his finger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicial expression. "in doing so," said dr. mortimer, who hadbegun to show signs of some strong emotion, "i am telling that which i have not confidedto anyone. my motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a man of scienceshrinks from placing himself in the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition.i had the further motive that baskerville hall, as the paper says, would certainly remainuntenanted if anything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. for boththese reasons i thought that i was justified in telling rather less than i knew, sinceno practical good could result from it, but

with you there is no reason why i should notbe perfectly frank. "the moor is very sparsely inhabited, andthose who live near each other are thrown very much together. for this reason i sawa good deal of sir charles baskerville. with the exception of mr. frankland, of lafterhall, and mr. stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other men of education within manymiles. sir charles was a retiring man, but the chance of his illness brought us together,and a community of interests in science kept us so. he had brought back much scientificinformation from south africa, and many a charming evening we have spent together discussingthe comparative anatomy of the bushman and the hottentot.

"within the last few months it became increasinglyplain to me that sir charles's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. he hadtaken this legend which i have read you exceedingly to heart—so much so that, although he wouldwalk in his own grounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at night. incredibleas it may appear to you, mr. holmes, he was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhunghis family, and certainly the records which he was able to give of his ancestors werenot encouraging. the idea of some ghastly presence constantly haunted him, and on morethan one occasion he has asked me whether i had on my medical journeys at night everseen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound. the latter question he put tome several times, and always with a voice

which vibrated with excitement. "i can well remember driving up to his housein the evening some three weeks before the fatal event. he chanced to be at his halldoor. i had descended from my gig and was standing in front of him, when i saw his eyesfix themselves over my shoulder and stare past me with an expression of the most dreadfulhorror. i whisked round and had just time to catch a glimpse of something which i tookto be a large black calf 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 been and look aroundfor it. it was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make the worst impression uponhis mind. i stayed with him all the evening,

and it was on that occasion, to explain theemotion which he had shown, that he confided to my keeping that narrative which i readto you when first i came. i mention this small episode because it assumes some importancein view of the tragedy which followed, but i was convinced at the time that the matterwas entirely trivial and that his excitement had no justification. "it was at my advice that sir charles wasabout to go to london. his heart was, i knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in whichhe lived, however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently having a seriouseffect upon his health. i thought that a few months among the distractions of town wouldsend him back a new man. mr. stapleton, a

mutual friend who was much concerned at hisstate of health, was of the same opinion. at the last instant came this terrible catastrophe. "on the night of sir charles's death barrymorethe butler, who made the 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 of the event. i checkedand corroborated all the facts which were mentioned at the inquest. i followed the footstepsdown the yew alley, i saw the spot at the moor-gate where he seemed to have waited,i remarked the change in the shape of the prints after that point, i noted that therewere no other footsteps save those of barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally i carefullyexamined the body, which had not been touched

until my arrival. sir charles lay on his face,his arms out, his fingers dug into the ground, and his features convulsed with some strongemotion to such an extent that i could hardly have sworn to his identity. there was certainlyno physical injury of any kind. but one false statement was made by barrymore at the inquest.he said that there were no traces upon the ground round the body. he did not observeany. but i did—some little distance off, but fresh and clear." "footprints?" "footprints." "a man's or a woman's?"

dr. mortimer looked strangely at us for aninstant, and his voice sank almost to a whisper as he answered. "mr. holmes, they were the footprints of agigantic hound!" chapter 3. the problem i confess at these words a shudder passedthrough me. there was a thrill in the doctor's voice which showed that he was himself deeplymoved by that which he told us. holmes leaned forward in his excitement and his eyes hadthe hard, dry glitter which shot from them when he was keenly interested. "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 thebody and no one gave them a thought. i don't suppose i should have done so had i not knownthis legend." "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?" "what is the alley like?" "there are two lines of old yew hedge, twelvefeet high and impenetrable. the walk in the centre is about eight feet across."

"is there anything between the hedges andthe walk?" "yes, there is a strip of grass about sixfeet broad on either side." "i understand that the yew hedge is penetratedat one point by a gate?" "yes, the wicket-gate which leads on to themoor." "is there any other opening?" "none." "so that to reach the yew alley one eitherhas to come down it from the house or else to enter it by the moor-gate?" "there is an exit through a summer-house atthe far end."

"had sir charles reached this?" "no; he lay about fifty yards from it." "now, tell me, dr. mortimer—and this isimportant—the marks which you saw 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 asthe moor-gate?" "yes; they were on the edge of the path onthe same side as the moor-gate." "you interest me exceedingly. another point.was the wicket-gate closed?" "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 hadevidently stood there for five or ten minutes." "how do you know that?" "because the ash had twice dropped from hiscigar." "excellent! this is a colleague, watson, afterour own heart. but the marks?" "he had left his own marks all over that smallpatch of gravel. i could discern no others." sherlock holmes struck his hand against hisknee with an impatient gesture. "if i had only been there!" he cried. "itis evidently a case of extraordinary interest, and one which presented immense opportunitiesto the scientific expert. that gravel page upon which i might have read so much has beenlong ere this smudged by the rain and defaced

by the clogs of curious peasants. oh, dr.mortimer, dr. mortimer, to think that you should not have called me in! you have indeedmuch to answer for." "i could not call you in, mr. holmes, withoutdisclosing these facts to the world, and i have already given my reasons for not wishingto do so. besides, besides—" "why do you hesitate?" "there is a realm in which the most acuteand most experienced of detectives 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 havecome to my ears several incidents which are hard to reconcile with the settled order ofnature." "for example?" "i find that before the terrible event occurredseveral people had seen a creature upon the moor which corresponds with this baskervilledemon, and which could not possibly be any animal known to science. they all agreed thatit was a huge creature, luminous, ghastly, and spectral. i have cross-examined thesemen, one of them a hard-headed countryman, one a farrier, and one a moorland farmer,who all tell the same story of this dreadful apparition, exactly corresponding to the hell-houndof the legend. i assure you that there is

a reign of terror in the district, and thatit is a hardy man who will cross the moor at night." "and you, a trained man of science, believeit to be supernatural?" "i do not know what to believe." holmes shrugged his shoulders. "i have hithertoconfined my investigations to this world," said he. "in a modest way i have combatedevil, but to take on the father of evil himself would, perhaps, be too ambitious a task. yetyou must admit that the footmark is material." "the original hound was material enough totug a man's throat out, and yet he was diabolical as well."

"i see that you have quite gone over to thesupernaturalists. but now, dr. mortimer, tell me this. if you hold these views, why haveyou come to consult me at all? you tell me in the same breath that it is useless to investigatesir 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 withsir henry baskerville, who arrives 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 inquiredfor this young gentleman and found that he had been farming in canada. from the accountswhich have reached us he is an excellent fellow in every way. i speak now not as a medicalman 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 havebeen able to trace was rodger baskerville, the youngest of three brothers of whom poorsir charles was the 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 of the old masterfulbaskerville strain and was the very image,

they tell me, of the family picture of oldhugo. he made england too hot to hold him, fled to central america, and died there in1876 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 at southampton thismorning. now, mr. holmes, what would you advise me to do with him?" "why should he not go to the home of his fathers?" "it seems natural, does it not? and yet, considerthat every baskerville who goes there meets with an evil fate. i feel sure that if sircharles could have spoken with me before his death he would have warned me against bringingthis, the last of the old race, and the heir

to great wealth, to that deadly place. andyet it cannot be denied that the prosperity of the whole poor, bleak countryside dependsupon his presence. all the good work which has been done by sir charles will crash tothe ground if there is no tenant of the hall. i fear lest i should be swayed too much bymy own obvious interest in the matter, and that is why i bring the case before you andask for your advice." holmes considered for a little time. "put into plain words, the matter is this,"said he. "in your opinion there is a diabolical agency which makes dartmoor an unsafe abodefor a baskerville—that is your opinion?" "at least i might go the length of sayingthat there is some evidence that this may

be so." "exactly. but surely, if your supernaturaltheory be correct, it could work the young man evil in london as easily as in devonshire.a devil with merely local powers like a parish vestry would be too inconceivable a thing." "you put the matter more flippantly, mr. holmes,than you would probably do if you were brought into personal contact with these things. youradvice, then, as i understand it, is that the young man will be as safe in devonshireas in london. he comes in fifty minutes. what would you recommend?" "i recommend, sir, that you take a cab, calloff your spaniel who is scratching at my front

door, and proceed to waterloo to meet sirhenry baskerville." "and then?" "and then you will say nothing to him at alluntil i have made up my mind about the matter." "how long will it take you to make up yourmind?" "twenty-four hours. at ten o'clock tomorrow,dr. mortimer, i will be much obliged to you if you will call upon me here, and it willbe of help to me in my plans for the future if you will bring sir henry baskerville withyou." "i will do so, mr. holmes." he scribbled theappointment on his shirt-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. yousay that before sir charles baskerville's death several people saw this apparition uponthe 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 quietlook of inward satisfaction which 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 ofaction that i turn to you for aid. but this is splendid, really unique from some pointsof view. when you pass bradley's, would you ask him to send up a pound of the strongestshag tobacco? thank you. it would be as well if you could make it convenient not to returnbefore evening. then i should be very glad to compare impressions as to this most interestingproblem which has been submitted to us this morning." i knew that seclusion and solitude were verynecessary for my friend in those hours of

intense mental concentration during whichhe weighed every particle of evidence, constructed alternative theories, balanced one againstthe other, and made up his mind as to which points were essential and which immaterial.i therefore spent the day at my club and did not return to baker street until evening.it was nearly nine o'clock when i found myself in the sitting-room once more. my first impression as i opened the door wasthat a fire had broken out, for the room was so filled with smoke that the light of thelamp upon the table was blurred by it. as i entered, however, my fears were set at rest,for it was the acrid fumes of strong coarse tobacco which took me by the throat and setme coughing. through the haze i had a vague

vision of holmes in his dressing-gown coiledup in an armchair with his black clay pipe between his lips. several rolls of paper layaround him. "caught cold, watson?" said he. "no, it's this poisonous atmosphere." "i suppose it is pretty thick, now that youmention it." "thick! it is intolerable." "open the window, then! you have been at yourclub all day, i perceive." "my dear holmes!" "am i right?"

"certainly, but how?" he laughed at my bewildered expression. "thereis a delightful freshness about you, watson, which makes it a pleasure to exercise anysmall powers which i possess at your expense. a gentleman goes forth on a showery and miryday. he returns immaculate in the evening with the gloss still on his hat and his boots.he has been a fixture therefore all day. he is not a man with intimate friends. where,then, could he have been? is it not obvious?" "well, it is rather obvious." "the world is full of obvious things whichnobody by any chance ever observes. 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 armchairand has, i regret to observe, consumed in my absence two large pots of coffee and anincredible amount of tobacco. after you left i sent down to stamford's for the ordnancemap of this portion of the moor, and my spirit has hovered over it all day. i flatter myselfthat i could find my way about." "a large-scale map, i presume?" "very large."

he unrolled one section and held it over hisknee. "here you have the particular district which concerns us. that is baskerville hallin the middle." "with a wood round it?" "exactly. i fancy the yew alley, though notmarked under that name, must stretch along this line, with the moor, as you perceive,upon the right of it. this small clump of buildings here is the hamlet of grimpen, whereour friend dr. mortimer has his headquarters. within a radius of five miles there are, asyou see, only a very few scattered dwellings. here is lafter hall, which was mentioned inthe narrative. there is a house indicated here which may be the residence of the naturalist—stapleton,if i remember right, was his name. here are

two moorland farmhouses, high tor and foulmire.then fourteen miles away the great convict prison of princetown. between and around thesescattered points extends the desolate, lifeless moor. this, then, is the stage upon whichtragedy has been played, and upon which we may help to play it again." "it must be a wild place." "yes, the setting is a worthy one. if thedevil did desire to have a hand in the affairs of men—" "then you are yourself inclining to the supernaturalexplanation." "the devil's agents may be of flesh and blood,may they not? there are two questions waiting

for us at the outset. the one is whether anycrime has been committed at all; the second is, what is the crime and how was it committed?of course, if dr. mortimer's surmise should be correct, and we are dealing with forcesoutside the ordinary laws of nature, there is an end of our investigation. but we arebound to exhaust all other hypotheses before falling back upon this one. i think we'llshut that window again, if you don't mind. it is a singular thing, but i find that aconcentrated atmosphere helps a concentration of thought. i have not pushed it to the lengthof getting into a box to think, but that is the logical outcome of my convictions. haveyou turned the case over in your mind?" "yes, i have thought a good deal of it inthe 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 of distinction about it. that change in the footprints, for example.what do you make of that?" "mortimer said that the man had walked ontiptoe down that portion of the alley." "he only repeated what some fool had saidat the inquest. why should a man 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 indicationsthat the man was crazed with fear before ever he began to run." "how can you say that?" "i am presuming that the cause of his fearscame to him across the moor. if that were so, and it seems most probable, only a manwho had lost his wits would have run from the house instead of towards it. if the gipsy'sevidence may be taken as true, he ran with cries for help in the direction where helpwas least likely to be. then, again, whom

was he waiting for that night, and why washe waiting for him in the yew alley rather than in his own house?" "you think that he was waiting for someone?" "the man was elderly and infirm. we can understandhis taking an evening stroll, but the ground was damp and the night inclement. is it naturalthat he should stand for five or ten minutes, as dr. mortimer, with more practical sensethan i should have given him credit for, deduced from the cigar ash?" "but he went out every evening." "i think it unlikely that he waited at themoor-gate every evening. on the contrary,

the evidence is that he avoided the moor.that night he waited there. it was the night before he made his departure for london. thething takes shape, watson. it becomes coherent. might i ask you to hand me my violin, andwe will postpone all further thought upon this business until we have had the advantageof meeting dr. mortimer and sir henry baskerville in the morning." chapter 4. sir henry baskerville our breakfast table was cleared early, andholmes waited in his dressing-gown for the promised interview. our clients were punctualto their appointment, for the clock had just struck ten when dr. mortimer was shown up,followed by the young baronet. the latter

was a small, alert, dark-eyed man about thirtyyears of age, very sturdily built, with thick black eyebrows and a strong, pugnacious face.he wore a ruddy-tinted tweed suit and had the weather-beaten appearance of one who hasspent most of his time in the open air, and yet there was something in his steady eyeand the quiet assurance of his bearing which indicated the gentleman. "this is sir henry baskerville," said dr.mortimer. "why, yes," said he, "and the strange thingis, mr. sherlock holmes, that if my friend here had not proposed coming round to youthis morning i should have come on my own account. i understand that you think out littlepuzzles, and i've had one this morning which

wants more thinking out than i am able togive it." "pray take a seat, sir henry. do i understandyou to say that you have yourself had some remarkable experience since you arrived inlondon?" "nothing of much importance, mr. holmes. onlya joke, as like as not. it was this letter, if you can call it a letter, which reachedme this morning." he laid an envelope upon the table, and weall bent over it. it was of common quality, grayish in colour. the address, "sir henrybaskerville, northumberland hotel," was printed in rough characters; the post-mark "charingcross," and the date of posting the preceding evening.

"who knew that you were going to the northumberlandhotel?" asked holmes, glancing keenly across at our visitor. "no one could have known. we only decidedafter i met dr. mortimer." "but dr. mortimer was no doubt already stoppingthere?" "no, i had been staying with a friend," saidthe doctor. "there was no possible indication that weintended to go to this hotel." "hum! someone seems to be very deeply interestedin your movements." out of the envelope he took a half-sheet of foolscap paper foldedinto four. this he opened and spread flat upon the table. across the middle of it asingle sentence had been formed by the expedient

of pasting printed words upon it. it ran: as you value your life or your reason keepaway from the moor. the word "moor" only was printed in ink. "now," said sir henry baskerville, "perhapsyou will tell me, mr. holmes, what in thunder is the meaning of that, and who it is thattakes so much interest in my affairs?" "what do you make of it, dr. mortimer? youmust allow that there is nothing supernatural about this, at any rate?" "no, sir, but it might very well come fromsomeone who was convinced that the business is supernatural."

"what business?" asked sir henry sharply."it seems to me that all you gentlemen know a great deal more than i do about my own affairs." "you shall share our knowledge before youleave this room, sir henry. i promise you that," said sherlock holmes. "we will confineourselves for the present with your permission to this very interesting document, which musthave been put together and posted yesterday evening. have you yesterday's times, watson?" "it is here in the corner." "might i trouble you for it—the inside page,please, with the leading articles?" he glanced swiftly over it, running his eyes up and downthe columns. "capital article this on free

trade. permit me to give you an extract fromit. 'you may be cajoled into imagining that yourown special trade or your own industry will be encouragedby a protective tariff, but it stands to reasonthat such legislation must in the long run keep awaywealth 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?" criedholmes in high glee, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. "don't you think that isan admirable sentiment?"

dr. mortimer looked at holmes with an airof professional interest, and sir henry baskerville turned a pair of puzzled dark eyes upon me. "i don't know much about the tariff and thingsof that kind," said he, "but it seems to me we've got a bit off the trail so far as thatnote is concerned." "on the contrary, i think we are particularlyhot upon the trail, sir henry. watson here knows more about my methods than you do, buti fear that 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 veryclose a connection that the one is extracted

out of the other. 'you,' 'your,' 'your,' 'life,''reason,' 'value,' 'keep away,' 'from the.' don't you see now whence these words havebeen taken?" "by thunder, you're right! well, if that isn'tsmart!" cried sir henry. "if any possible doubt remained it is settledby the fact that 'keep away' and 'from the' are cut out in one piece." "well, now—so it is!" "really, mr. holmes, this exceeds anythingwhich i could have imagined," said dr. mortimer, gazing at my friend in amazement. "i couldunderstand anyone saying that the words were from a newspaper; but that you should namewhich, and add that it came from the leading

article, is really one of the most remarkablethings which i have ever known. how did you do it?" "i presume, doctor, that you could tell theskull of a negro from that of an esquimau?" "most certainly." "but how?" "because that is my special hobby. the differencesare obvious. the supra-orbital crest, the facial angle, the maxillary curve, the—" "but this is my special hobby, and the differencesare 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 paper as there couldbe between your negro and your esquimau. the detection of types is one of the most elementarybranches of knowledge to the special expert in crime, though i confess that once wheni was very young i confused the leeds mercury with the western morning news. but a timesleader is entirely distinctive, and these words could have been taken from nothing else.as it was done yesterday the strong probability was that we should find the words in yesterday'sissue." "so far as i can follow you, then, mr. holmes,"said sir henry baskerville, "someone cut out this message with a scissors—" "nail-scissors," said holmes. "you can seethat it was a very short-bladed scissors,

since the cutter had to take two snips over'keep away.'" "that is so. someone, then, cut out the messagewith a pair of short-bladed scissors, pasted it with paste—" "gum," said holmes. "with gum on to the paper. but i want to knowwhy the word 'moor' should have been written?" "because he could not find it in print. theother words were all simple and might be found in any issue, but 'moor' would be less common." "why, of course, that would explain it. haveyou read anything else in this message, mr. holmes?"

"there are one or two indications, and yetthe utmost pains have been taken to remove all clues. the address, you observe is printedin rough characters. but the times is a paper which is seldom found in any hands but thoseof the highly educated. we may take it, therefore, that the letter was composed by an educatedman who wished to pose as an uneducated one, and his effort to conceal his own writingsuggests that that writing might be known, or come to be known, by you. again, you willobserve that the words are not gummed on in an accurate line, but that some are much higherthan others. 'life,' for example is quite out of its proper place. that may point tocarelessness or it may point to agitation and hurry upon the part of the cutter. onthe whole i incline to the latter view, since

the matter was evidently important, and itis unlikely that the composer of such a letter would be careless. if he were in a hurry itopens up the interesting question why he should be in a hurry, since any letter posted upto early morning would reach sir henry before he would leave his hotel. did the composerfear an interruption—and from whom?" "we are coming now rather into the regionof guesswork," said dr. mortimer. "say, rather, into the region where we balanceprobabilities and choose the most likely. it is the scientific use of the imagination,but we have always some material basis on which to start our speculation. now, you wouldcall it a guess, no doubt, but i am almost certain that this address has been writtenin a hotel."

"how in the world can you say that?" "if you examine it carefully you will seethat both the pen and the ink have given the writer trouble. the pen has spluttered twicein a single word and has run dry three times in a short address, showing that there wasvery little ink in the bottle. now, a private pen or ink-bottle is seldom allowed to bein such a state, and the combination of the two must be quite rare. but you know the hotelink and the hotel pen, where it is rare to get anything else. yes, i have very littlehesitation in saying that could we examine the waste-paper baskets of the hotels aroundcharing cross until we found the remains of the mutilated times leader we could lay ourhands straight upon the person who sent this

singular message. halloa! halloa! what's this?" he was carefully examining the foolscap, uponwhich the words were pasted, holding it only an inch or two from his eyes. "well?" "nothing," said he, throwing it down. "itis a blank half-sheet of paper, without even a water-mark upon it. i think we have drawnas much as we can from this curious letter; and now, sir henry, has anything else of interesthappened to you since you have been in london?" "why, no, mr. holmes. i think not." "you have not observed anyone follow or watchyou?"

"i seem to have walked right into the thickof a dime novel," said our visitor. "why in thunder should anyone follow or watch me?" "we are coming to that. you have nothing elseto report to us before we go into this matter?" "well, it depends upon what you think worthreporting." "i think anything out of the ordinary routineof life well worth reporting." sir henry smiled. "i don't know much of britishlife yet, for i have spent nearly all my time in the states and in canada. but i hope thatto lose one of your boots is not part of the ordinary routine of life over here." "you have lost one of your boots?"

"my dear sir," cried dr. mortimer, "it isonly mislaid. you will find it when you return to the hotel. what is the use of troublingmr. holmes with trifles of this kind?" "well, he asked me for anything outside theordinary routine." "exactly," said holmes, "however foolish theincident may seem. you have lost one of your boots, you say?" "well, mislaid it, anyhow. i put them bothoutside my door last night, and there was only one in the morning. i could get no senseout of the chap who cleans them. the worst of it is that i only bought the pair lastnight in the strand, and i have never had them on."

"if you have never worn them, why did youput them out to be cleaned?" "they were tan boots and had never been varnished.that was why i put them out." "then i understand that on your arrival inlondon yesterday you went out at once and bought a pair of boots?" "i did a good deal of shopping. dr. mortimerhere went round with me. you see, if i am to be squire down there i must dress the part,and it may be that i have got a little careless in my ways out west. among other things ibought these brown boots—gave six dollars for them—and had one stolen before everi 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 belong before the missing boot is found." "and, now, gentlemen," said the baronet withdecision, "it seems to me that i have spoken quite enough about the little that i know.it is time that you kept your promise and gave me a full account of what we are alldriving at." "your request is a very reasonable one," holmesanswered. "dr. mortimer, i think you could not do better than to tell your story as youtold it to us." thus encouraged, our scientific friend drewhis papers from his pocket and presented the whole case as he had done upon the morningbefore. sir henry baskerville listened with the deepest attention and with an occasionalexclamation of surprise.

"well, i seem to have come into an inheritancewith a vengeance," said he 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 neverthought of taking it seriously before. but as to my uncle's death—well, it all seemsboiling up in my head, and i can't get it clear yet. you don't seem quite to have madeup your mind whether it's a case for a policeman or a clergyman." "precisely." "and now there's this affair of the letterto me at the hotel. i suppose that fits into its place."

"it seems to show that someone knows morethan we do about what goes on upon the moor," said dr. mortimer. "and also," said holmes, "that someone isnot ill-disposed towards you, since they warn you of danger." "or it may be that they wish, for their ownpurposes, to scare me away." "well, of course, that is possible also. iam very much indebted to you, dr. mortimer, for introducing me to a problem which presentsseveral interesting alternatives. but the practical point which we now have to decide,sir henry, is whether it is or is not advisable for you to go to baskerville hall."

"why should i not go?" "there seems to be danger." "do you mean danger from this family fiendor do you mean danger from human beings?" "well, that is what we have to find out." "whichever it is, my answer is fixed. thereis no devil in hell, mr. holmes, and there is no man upon earth who can prevent me fromgoing to the home of my own people, and you may take that to be my final answer." hisdark brows knitted and his face flushed to a dusky red as he spoke. it was evident thatthe fiery temper of the baskervilles was not extinct in this their last representative."meanwhile," said he, "i have hardly had time

to think over all that you have told me. it'sa big thing for a man 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'shalf-past eleven now and i am going back right away to my hotel. suppose you and your friend,dr. watson, come round and lunch with us at two. i'll be able to tell you more clearlythen how this thing strikes me." "is that convenient to you, watson?" "perfectly." "then you may expect us. shall i have a cabcalled?" "i'd prefer to walk, for this affair has flurriedme 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 descendthe stair and the bang of the front door. in an instant holmes had changed from thelanguid dreamer to the man of action. "your hat and boots, watson, quick! not amoment to lose!" he rushed into his room in his dressing-gown and was back again in afew seconds in a frock-coat. we hurried together down the stairs and into the street. dr. mortimerand baskerville were still visible about two hundred yards ahead of us in the directionof oxford street. "shall i run on and stop them?"

"not for the world, my dear watson. i am perfectlysatisfied with your company if you will tolerate mine. our friends are wise, for it is certainlya very fine morning for a walk." he quickened his pace until we had decreasedthe distance which divided us by about half. then, still keeping a hundred yards behind,we followed into oxford street and so down regent street. once our friends stopped andstared into a shop window, upon which holmes did the same. an instant afterwards he gavea little cry of satisfaction, and, following the direction of his eager eyes, i saw thata hansom cab with a man inside which had halted on the other side of the street was now proceedingslowly onward again. "there's our man, watson! come along! we'llhave a good look at him, if we can do no more."

at that instant i was aware of a bushy blackbeard and a pair of piercing eyes turned upon us through the side window of the cab. instantlythe trapdoor at the top flew up, something was screamed to the driver, and the cab flewmadly off down regent street. holmes looked eagerly round for another, but no empty onewas in sight. then he dashed in wild pursuit amid the stream of the traffic, but the startwas too great, and already the cab was out of sight. "there now!" said holmes bitterly as he emergedpanting and white with vexation from the tide of vehicles. "was ever such bad luck and suchbad management, too? watson, watson, if you are an honest man you will record this alsoand set it against my successes!"

"who was the man?" "i have not an idea." "a spy?" "well, it was evident from what we have heardthat baskerville has been very closely shadowed by someone since he has been in town. howelse could it be known so quickly that it was the northumberland hotel which he hadchosen? if they had followed him the first day i argued that they would follow him alsothe second. you may have observed that i twice strolled over to the window while dr. mortimerwas reading his legend." "yes, i remember."

"i was looking out for loiterers in the street,but i saw none. we are 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 or a malevolentagency which is in touch with us, i am conscious always of power and design. when our friendsleft i at once followed them in the hopes of marking down their invisible attendant.so wily was he that he had not trusted himself upon foot, but he had availed himself of acab so that he could loiter behind or dash past them and so escape their notice. hismethod had the additional advantage that if they were to take a cab he was all ready tofollow them. it has, however, one obvious disadvantage."

"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, yousurely do not seriously imagine 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 instantlyturned and walked in the other direction. i should then at my leisure have hired a secondcab and followed the first at a respectful distance, or, better still, have driven tothe northumberland hotel and waited there.

when our unknown had followed baskervillehome we should have had the opportunity of playing his own game upon himself and seeingwhere he made for. as it is, by an indiscreet eagerness, which was taken advantage of withextraordinary quickness and energy by our opponent, we have betrayed ourselves and lostour man." we had been sauntering slowly down regentstreet during this conversation, and dr. mortimer, with his companion, had long vanished in frontof us. "there is no object in our following them,"said holmes. "the shadow has departed and will not return. we must see what furthercards we have in our hands and play them with decision. could you swear to that man's facewithin the cab?"

"i could swear only to the beard." "and so could i—from which i gather thatin all probability it was a false one. a clever man upon so delicate an errand has no usefor a beard save to conceal his features. come in here, watson!" he turned into one of the district messengeroffices, where he was warmly greeted by the manager. "ah, wilson, i see you have not forgottenthe little case in which i had the good fortune to help you?" "no, sir, indeed i have not. you saved mygood name, and perhaps my life."

"my dear fellow, you exaggerate. i have somerecollection, wilson, that you had among your boys a lad named cartwright, who showed someability during the investigation." "yes, sir, he is still with us." "could you ring him up?—thank you! and ishould be glad to have change of this five-pound note." a lad of fourteen, with a bright, keen face,had obeyed the summons of the manager. he stood now gazing with great reverence at thefamous detective. "let me have the hotel directory," said holmes."thank you! now, cartwright, there are the names of twenty-three hotels here, all inthe immediate neighbourhood of charing cross.

do you see?" "you will visit each of these in turn." "you will begin in each case by giving theoutside porter one shilling. here are twenty-three shillings." "you will tell him that you want to see thewaste-paper of yesterday. you will say that an important telegram has miscarried and thatyou are looking for it. you understand?" "but what you are really looking for is thecentre page of the times with some holes cut in it with scissors. here is a copy of thetimes. it is this page. you could easily recognize it, could you not?"

"in each case the outside porter will sendfor the hall porter, to whom also you will give a shilling. here are twenty-three shillings.you will then learn in possibly twenty cases out of the twenty-three that the waste ofthe day before has been burned or removed. in the three other cases you will be showna heap of paper and you will look for this page of the times among it. the odds are enormouslyagainst your finding it. there are ten shillings over in case of emergencies. let me have areport by wire at baker street before evening. and now, watson, it only remains for us tofind out by wire the identity of the cabman, no. 2704, and then we will drop into one ofthe bond street picture galleries and fill in the time until we are due at the hotel."

chapter 5. three broken threads sherlock holmes had, in a very remarkabledegree, the power of detaching his mind at will. for two hours the strange business inwhich we had been involved appeared to be forgotten, and he was entirely absorbed inthe pictures of the modern belgian masters. he would talk of nothing but art, of whichhe had the crudest ideas, from our leaving the gallery until we found ourselves at thenorthumberland hotel. "sir henry baskerville is upstairs expectingyou," said the clerk. "he asked me to show you up at once when you came." "have you any objection to my looking at yourregister?" said holmes.

"not in the least." the book showed that two names had been addedafter that of baskerville. one was theophilus johnson and family, of newcastle; the othermrs. oldmore and maid, of high lodge, alton. "surely that must be the same johnson whomi used to know," said holmes to the porter. "a lawyer, is he not, gray-headed, and walkswith a limp?" "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 manyyears, and he is very well known to us." "ah, that settles it. mrs. oldmore, too; iseem to remember the name. excuse my curiosity,

but often in calling upon one friend one findsanother." "she is an invalid lady, sir. her husbandwas once mayor of gloucester. she always comes to us when she is in town." "thank you; i am afraid i cannot claim heracquaintance. we have established a most important fact by these questions, watson," he continuedin a low voice as we went upstairs together. "we know now that the people who are so interestedin our friend have not settled down in his own hotel. that means that while they are,as we have seen, very anxious to watch him, they are equally anxious that he should notsee them. now, this is a most suggestive fact." "what does it suggest?"

"it suggests—halloa, my dear fellow, whaton earth is the matter?" as we came round the top of the stairs wehad run up against sir henry baskerville himself. his face was flushed with anger, and he heldan old and dusty boot in one of his hands. so furious was he that he was hardly articulate,and when he did speak it was in a much broader and more western dialect than any which wehad heard from him in the morning. "seems to me they are playing me for a suckerin 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 boot there will be trouble.i can take a joke with the best, mr. holmes, but they'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 brownboot?" "so it was, sir. and now it's an old blackone." "what! you don't mean to say—?" "that's just what i do mean to say. i onlyhad three pairs in the world—the new brown, the old black, and the patent leathers, whichi am wearing. last night they took one of my brown ones, and today they have sneakedone of the black. well, have you got it? speak out, man, and don't stand staring!"

an agitated german waiter had appeared uponthe scene. "no, sir; i have made inquiry all over thehotel, but i can hear no word of it." "well, either that boot comes back beforesundown or i'll see the manager and tell him that i go right straight out of this hotel." "it shall be found, sir—i promise you thatif you will have a little patience it will be found." "mind it is, for it's the last thing of minethat i'll lose in this den of thieves. well, well, mr. holmes, you'll excuse my troublingyou about such 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 seemsthe very maddest, queerest thing 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 very complex, sir henry. when taken in conjunction with your uncle'sdeath i am not sure that of all the five hundred cases of capital importance which i have handledthere is one which cuts so deep. but we hold

several threads in our hands, and the oddsare that one or other of them guides us to the truth. we may waste time in followingthe wrong one, but sooner or later we must come upon the right." we had a pleasant luncheon in which littlewas said of the business which had brought us together. it was in the private sitting-roomto which we afterwards repaired that holmes asked baskerville what were his intentions. "to go to baskerville hall." "and when?" "at the end of the week."

"on the whole," said holmes, "i think thatyour decision is a wise one. i have ample evidence that you are being dogged in london,and amid the millions of this great city it is difficult to discover who these peopleare or what their object can be. if their intentions are evil they might do you a mischief,and we should be powerless to prevent it. you did not know, dr. mortimer, that you werefollowed this morning from my house?" dr. mortimer started violently. "followed!by whom?" "that, unfortunately, is what i cannot tellyou. have you among your neighbours or acquaintances on dartmoor any man with a black, full beard?" "no—or, let me see—why, yes. barrymore,sir charles's butler, is a man with 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 possibility he might be in london." "how can you do that?" "give me a telegraph form. 'is all ready forsir henry?' that will do. address to mr. barrymore, baskerville hall. what is the nearest telegraph-office?grimpen. very good, we will send a second wire to the postmaster, grimpen: 'telegramto mr. barrymore to be delivered into his own hand. if absent, please return wire tosir 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 this barrymore, anyhow?" "he is the son of the old caretaker, who isdead. they have looked after the hall for four generations now. so far as i know, heand his wife are as respectable a couple as any in the county." "at the same time," said baskerville, "it'sclear enough that so long as there are none of the family at the hall these people havea mighty fine home and nothing to do." "that is true."

"did barrymore profit at all by sir charles'swill?" asked holmes. "he and his wife had five hundred pounds each." "ha! did they know that they would receivethis?" "yes; sir charles was very fond of talkingabout the provisions of his will." "that is very interesting." "i hope," said dr. mortimer, "that you donot look with suspicious eyes upon everyone who received a legacy from sir charles, fori also had a thousand pounds left to me." "indeed! and anyone else?" "there were many insignificant sums to individuals,and a large number of 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. "ihad no idea that so gigantic a sum was involved," said he. "sir charles had the reputation of being rich,but we did not know how very 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 mightwell play a desperate game. and one more question, dr. mortimer. supposing that anything happenedto our young friend here—you will forgive

the unpleasant hypothesis!—who would inheritthe estate?" "since rodger baskerville, sir charles's youngerbrother died unmarried, the estate would descend to the desmonds, who are distant cousins.james desmond is an elderly clergyman in westmoreland." "thank you. these details are all of greatinterest. have you met mr. james desmond?" "yes; he once came down to visit sir charles.he is a man of venerable appearance and of saintly life. i remember that he refused toaccept any settlement from sir charles, though he pressed it upon him." "and this man of simple tastes would be theheir to sir charles's thousands." "he would be the heir to the estate becausethat is entailed. he would also be the heir

to the money unless it were willed otherwiseby the present 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 yesterday that i learned how matters stood. but in any case i feel thatthe money should go with the title and estate. that was my poor uncle's idea. how is theowner going to restore the glories of the baskervilles if he has not money enough tokeep up the property? house, land, and dollars must go together." "quite so. well, sir henry, i am of one mindwith you as to the advisability 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 attendto, and his house is miles away from yours. with all the goodwill in the world he maybe unable to help 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 endeavourto 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 is impossible forme to be absent from london for an indefinite time. at the present instant one of the mostrevered names in england is being besmirched by a blackmailer, and only i can stop a disastrousscandal. 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 friendwould undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when youare in a tight place. no one can say so more confidently than i." the proposition took me completely by surprise,but before i had time to answer, baskerville

seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily. "well, now, that is real kind of you, dr.watson," said he. "you see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matteras i do. if you will come down to baskerville hall and see me through i'll never forgetit." the promise of adventure had always a fascinationfor me, and i was complimented by the words of holmes and by the eagerness with whichthe baronet hailed me as a companion. "i will come, with pleasure," said i. "i donot know how i could employ my time better." "and you will report very carefully to me,"said holmes. "when a crisis comes, as it will do, i will direct how you shall act. i supposethat by saturday all might be ready?"

"would that suit dr. watson?" "then on saturday, unless you hear to thecontrary, we shall meet at the ten-thirty train from paddington." we had risen to depart when baskerville gavea cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown bootfrom under 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. mortimerremarked. "i searched this room carefully before lunch."

"and so did i," said baskerville. "every inchof it." "there was certainly no boot in it then." "in that case the waiter must have placedit there while we were lunching." the german was sent for but professed to knownothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. another item had been added tothat constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded eachother so rapidly. setting aside the whole grim story of sir charles's death, we hada line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included thereceipt of the printed letter, 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 new brown boot. holmessat in silence in the cab as we drove back to baker street, and i knew from his drawnbrows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame somescheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. allafternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought. just before dinner two telegrams were handedin. the first ran: have just heard that barrymore is at the hall.baskerville. the second: visited twenty-three hotels as directed, butsorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet

of times. cartwright. "there go two of my threads, watson. thereis nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. we must castround for another scent." "we have still the cabman who drove the spy." "exactly. i have wired to get his name andaddress from the official registry. i should not be surprised if this were an answer tomy question." the ring at the bell proved to be somethingeven more satisfactory than 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 thata gent at this address had been inquiring

for no. 2704," said he. "i've driven my cabthis seven years and never a word of complaint. i came here straight from the yard to askyou 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 willgive me a clear 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 casei want you again." "john clayton, 3 turpey street, the borough.my cab is out of shipley's yard, near waterloo station."

sherlock holmes made a note of it. "now, clayton, tell me all about the farewho came and watched this house 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 good my 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 a detective and that iwas to say nothing about him to anyone." "my good fellow; this is a very serious business,and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything fromme. 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. sherlockholmes." never have i seen my friend more completelytaken aback than by the cabman's reply. for

an instant he sat in silent amazement. thenhe burst into a hearty laugh. "a touch, watson—an undeniable touch!" saidhe. "i feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. he got home upon me very prettilythat time. so his name was sherlock holmes, was it?" "yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name." "excellent! tell me where you picked him upand all that occurred." "he hailed me at half-past nine in trafalgarsquare. he said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if i would do exactlywhat he wanted all day and ask no questions. i was glad enough to agree. first we drovedown to the northumberland hotel and waited

there until two gentlemen came out and tooka cab from the rank. we followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here." "this very door," said holmes. "well, i couldn't be sure of that, but i daresay my fare knew all about it. we pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hourand a half. then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down baker streetand along—" "i know," said holmes. "until we got three-quarters down regent street.then my gentleman threw up 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 there under the ten minutes.then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. onlyjust as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'it might interest you to know thatyou have been driving 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'taltogether such an easy gentleman to describe. i'd put him at forty years of age, and hewas of a middle height, two or three inches

shorter than you, sir. he was dressed likea toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. i don't knowas 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 waiting for you if you can bring any more information. good-night!" "good-night, sir, and thank you!"

john clayton departed chuckling, and holmesturned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile. "snap goes our third thread, and we end wherewe began," said he. "the cunning rascal! he knew our number, knew that sir henry baskervillehad consulted me, spotted who i was in regent street, conjectured that i had got the numberof the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. itell you, watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. i've beencheckmated in london. i can only wish you better luck in devonshire. but i'm not easyin my mind about it." "about what?"

"about sending you. it's an ugly business,watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more i see of it the less i like it. yes,my dear fellow, you may laugh, but i give you my word that i shall be very glad to haveyou back safe and sound in baker street once more." chapter 6. baskerville hall sir henry baskerville and dr. mortimer wereready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for devonshire. mr. sherlock holmesdrove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice. "i will not bias your mind by suggesting theoriesor suspicions, watson," said he; "i wish you

simply to report facts in the fullest possiblemanner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing." "what sort of facts?" i asked. "anything which may seem to have a bearinghowever indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young baskerville andhis neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of sir charles. i have made someinquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, i fear, been negative. onething only appears to be certain, and that is that mr. james desmond, who is the nextheir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution doesnot arise from him. i really think that we

may eliminate him entirely from our calculations.there remain the people who will actually surround sir henry baskerville upon the moor." "would it not be well in the first place toget rid of this barrymore couple?" "by no means. you could not make a greatermistake. if they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guiltywe should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. no, no, we will preservethem upon our list of suspects. then there is a groom at the hall, if i remember right.there are two moorland farmers. there is our friend dr. mortimer, whom i believe to beentirely honest, and there is his 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. thereis mr. frankland, of lafter hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or twoother neighbours. these are the folk who must be 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 younight and day, and never relax your precautions." our friends had already secured a first-classcarriage and were waiting for us upon the platform.

"no, we have no news of any kind," said dr.mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "i can swear to one thing, and that is thatwe have not been shadowed during the last two days. we have never gone out without keepinga sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice." "you have always kept together, i presume?" "except yesterday afternoon. i usually giveup one day to pure amusement when i come to town, so i spent it at the museum of the collegeof surgeons." "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 and looking very grave. "i beg, sir henry, that you will not go aboutalone. some great misfortune will befall you if you do. did you get your other boot?" "no, sir, it is gone forever." "indeed. that is very interesting. well, good-bye,"he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "bear in mind, sir henry, oneof the phrases in that queer old legend which dr. mortimer has read to us, and avoid themoor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted." i looked back at the platform when we hadleft it far behind and saw the tall, austere

figure of holmes standing motionless and gazingafter us. the journey was a swift and pleasant one,and i spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playingwith dr. mortimer's spaniel. in a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, thebrick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lushgrasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. young baskervillestared eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiarfeatures of the devon scenery. "i've been over a good part of the world sincei 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 notswear by his county," i remarked. "it depends upon the breed of men quite asmuch as on the county," said dr. mortimer. "a glance at our friend here reveals the roundedhead of the celt, which carries inside it the celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment.poor sir charles's head was of a very rare type, half gaelic, half ivernian in its characteristics.but you were very young when you last saw baskerville hall, were you not?" "i was a boy in my teens at the time of myfather's death and had never seen the hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the southcoast. thence i went straight to a friend in america. i tell you it is all as new tome as it is to dr. watson, and i'm as keen

as possible to see the moor." "are you? then your wish is easily granted,for there is your first sight of the moor," said dr. mortimer, pointing out of the carriagewindow. over the green squares of the fields and thelow curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jaggedsummit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. baskervillesat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and i read upon his eager face how much itmeant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held swayso long and left their mark so deep. there he sat, with his tweed suit and his americanaccent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage,

and yet as i looked at his dark and expressiveface i felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded,fiery, and masterful men. there were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, hissensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. if on that forbidding moor a difficult anddangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one mightventure to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it. the train pulled up at a small wayside stationand we all descended. outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pairof cobs was waiting. our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and portersclustered round us to carry out our luggage.

it was a sweet, simple country spot, but iwas surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniformswho leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. the coachman, ahard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted sir henry baskerville, and in a few minuteswe were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. rolling pasture lands curved upwardon either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage,but behind the peaceful and sunlit countryside there rose ever, dark against the eveningsky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills. the wagonette swung round into a side road,and we curved upward through deep lanes worn

by centuries of wheels, high banks on eitherside, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. bronzing bracken andmottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. still steadily rising, we passedover a narrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foamingand roaring amid the gray boulders. both road and stream wound up through a valley densewith scrub oak and fir. at every turn baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerlyabout him and asking countless questions. to his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to mea tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waningyear. yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. the rattleof our wheels died away as we drove through

drifts of rotting vegetation—sad gifts,as it seemed to me, for nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of thebaskervilles. "halloa!" cried dr. mortimer, "what is this?" a steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlyingspur of the moor, lay in front of us. on the summit, hard and clear like an equestrianstatue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready overhis forearm. he was watching the road along which we travelled. "what is this, perkins?" asked dr. mortimer. our driver half turned in his seat. "there'sa convict escaped from princetown, 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. the farmers abouthere don't like it, sir, and that's a fact." "well, i understand that they get five poundsif they can give information." "yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds isbut a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. you see, it isn'tlike any ordinary 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 onein which holmes had taken an interest on account

of the peculiar ferocity of the crime andthe wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. the commutationof his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrociouswas his conduct. our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanseof the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. a cold wind swept down fromit and set us shivering. somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendishman, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the wholerace which had cast him out. it needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness ofthe barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. even baskerville fell silentand pulled his overcoat more closely around

him. we had left the fertile country behind andbeneath us. we looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streamsto threads of gold 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 wilder over huge russetand olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. now and then we passed a moorland cottage,walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. suddenly we lookeddown into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twistedand bent by the fury of years of storm. two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. thedriver pointed with his whip.

"baskerville hall," said he. its master had risen and was staring withflushed cheeks and shining eyes. a few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a mazeof fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotchedwith lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the baskervilles. the lodge was aruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed,the first fruit of sir charles's south african gold. through the gateway we passed into the avenue,where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branchesin a sombre tunnel over our heads. baskerville

shuddered as he looked up the long, dark driveto where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther 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 gloomyface. "it's no wonder my uncle felt as if troublewere coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "it's enough to scare any man. i'llhave a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again,with a thousand candle-power swan and edison right here in front of the hall door."

the avenue opened into a broad expanse ofturf, and the house lay before us. in the fading light i could see that the centre wasa heavy block of building from which a porch projected. the whole front was draped in ivy,with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat of arms broke through thedark veil. from this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and piercedwith many loopholes. to right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of blackgranite. a dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneyswhich rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke. "welcome, sir henry! welcome to baskervillehall!"

a tall man had stepped from the shadow ofthe porch to open the door of the wagonette. the figure of a woman was silhouetted againstthe yellow light of the hall. she came out and helped the man to hand down our bags. "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 somework awaiting me. i would stay to show you over the house, but barrymore will be a betterguide than i. good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if i can be ofservice."

the wheels died away down the drive whilesir henry and i turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. it wasa fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with hugebaulks of age-blackened oak. in the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high irondogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. sir henry and i held out our hands to it, forwe were numb from our long drive. then we gazed round us at the high, thin window ofold stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon the walls,all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp. "it's just as i imagined it," said sir henry."is it not the very picture 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 me solemn to thinkof it." i saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasmas he gazed about him. the light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows traileddown the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. barrymore had returned from takingour luggage to our rooms. he stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trainedservant. he was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beardand pale, distinguished features. "would you wish dinner to be served at once,sir?" "is it ready?"

"in a very few minutes, sir. you will findhot water in your rooms. my wife and i will be happy, sir henry, to stay with you untilyou have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditionsthis house will require a considerable staff." "what new conditions?" "i only meant, sir, that sir charles led avery retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. you would, naturally, wishto have more company, and so you will need changes in your household." "do you mean that your wife and you wish toleave?" "only when it is quite convenient to you,sir."

"but your family have been with us for severalgenerations, have they not? i should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old familyconnection." i seemed to discern some signs of emotionupon 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 deathgave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. i fear that we shall neveragain be easy in our minds at baskerville hall." "but what do you intend to do?" "i have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeedin establishing ourselves in some business.

sir charles's generosity has given us themeans to do so. and now, sir, perhaps i had best show you to your rooms." a square balustraded gallery ran round thetop 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 bedrooms opened. my ownwas in the same wing as baskerville's and almost next door to it. these rooms appearedto be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerouscandles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left uponmy mind. but the dining-room which opened out of thehall was a place of shadow and gloom. it was

a long chamber with a step separating thedais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. at one enda minstrel's gallery overlooked it. black beams shot across above our heads, with asmoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. with rows of flaring torches to light it up, and thecolour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when twoblack-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one'svoice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. a dim line of ancestors, in every varietyof dress, from the elizabethan knight to the buck of the regency, stared down upon us anddaunted us by their silent company. we talked little, and i for one was glad when the mealwas over and we were able to retire into the

modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "my word, it isn't a very cheerful place,"said sir henry. "i suppose one can tone down to it, but i feel a bit out of the pictureat present. i don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in sucha house as this. however, if it suits you, we will retire early tonight, and perhapsthings may seem more cheerful in the morning." i drew aside my curtains before i went tobed and looked out from my window. it opened upon the grassy space which lay in front ofthe hall door. beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. a halfmoon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. in its cold light i saw beyond the trees abroken fringe of rocks, and the long, low

curve of the melancholy moor. i closed thecurtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest. and yet it was not quite the last. i foundmyself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep whichwould not come. far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwisea deathly silence lay upon the old house. and then suddenly, in the very dead of thenight, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. it was the sobof a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one who is torn by an uncontrollable sorrow.i sat up in bed and listened intently. the noise could not have been far away and wascertainly in the house. for half an hour i

waited with every nerve on the alert, butthere came no other sound save the chiming clock and the rustle of the ivy on the wall. chapter 7. the stapletons of merripit house the fresh beauty of the following morningdid something to efface from our minds the grim and gray impression which had been leftupon both of us by our first experience of baskerville hall. as sir henry and i sat atbreakfast the sunlight flooded in through the high mullioned windows, throwing waterypatches of colour from the coats of arms which covered them. the dark panelling glowed likebronze in the golden rays, and it was hard to realize that this was indeed the chamberwhich had struck such a gloom into our souls

upon the evening before. "i guess it is ourselves and not the housethat we have to blame!" said the baronet. "we were tired with our journey and chilledby 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 ofimagination," 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 halfasleep fancy that i heard something of the sort. i waited quite a time, but there wasno more of it, so i concluded that it was all a dream."

"i heard it distinctly, and i am sure thatit was really the sob of a woman." "we must ask about this right away." he rangthe bell and asked barrymore whether he could account for our experience. it seemed to methat the pallid features of the butler turned a shade paler still as he listened to hismaster's question. "there are only two women in the house, sirhenry," he answered. "one is the scullery-maid, who sleeps in the other wing. the other ismy 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 chancedthat after breakfast i met mrs. barrymore in the long corridor with the sun full uponher face. she was a large, impassive, heavy-featured

woman with a stern set expression of mouth.but her telltale eyes were red and glanced at me from between swollen lids. it was she,then, who wept in the night, and if she did so her husband must know it. yet he had takenthe obvious risk of discovery in declaring that it was not so. why had he done this?and why did she weep so bitterly? already round this pale-faced, handsome, black-beardedman there was gathering an atmosphere of mystery and of gloom. it was he who had been the firstto discover the body of sir charles, and we had only his word for all the circumstanceswhich led up to the old man's death. was it possible that it was barrymore, after all,whom we had seen in the cab in regent street? the beard might well have been the same. thecabman had described a somewhat shorter man,

but such an impression might easily have beenerroneous. how could i settle the point forever? obviously the first thing to do was to seethe grimpen postmaster and find whether the test telegram had really been placed in barrymore'sown hands. be the answer what it might, i should at least have something to report tosherlock holmes. sir henry had numerous papers to examine afterbreakfast, so that the time was propitious for my excursion. it was a pleasant walk offour miles along the edge of the moor, leading me at last to a small gray hamlet, in whichtwo larger buildings, which proved to be the inn and the house of dr. mortimer, stood highabove the rest. the postmaster, who was also the village grocer, had a clear recollectionof the telegram.

"certainly, sir," said he, "i had the telegramdelivered to mr. barrymore exactly as directed." "who delivered it?" "my boy here. james, you delivered that telegramto mr. barrymore at the hall 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 it into his own hands, but i gave it into mrs. barrymore's hands,and she promised 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 hewas in the loft?" "well, surely his own wife ought to know wherehe is," said the postmaster 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 anyfarther, but it was clear that in spite of holmes's ruse we had no proof that barrymorehad not been in london all the time. suppose that it were so—suppose that the same manhad been the last who had seen sir charles alive, and the first to dog the new heir whenhe returned to england. what then? was he the agent of others or had he some sinisterdesign of his own? what interest could he

have in persecuting the baskerville family?i thought of the strange warning clipped out of the leading article of the times. was thathis work or was it possibly the doing of someone who was bent upon counteracting his schemes?the only conceivable motive was that which had been suggested by sir henry, that if thefamily could be scared away a comfortable and permanent home would be secured for thebarrymores. but surely such an explanation as that would be quite inadequate to accountfor the deep and subtle scheming which seemed to be weaving an invisible net round the youngbaronet. holmes himself had said that no more complex case had come to him in all the longseries of his sensational investigations. i prayed, as i walked back along the gray,lonely road, that my friend might soon be

freed from his preoccupations and able tocome down to take this heavy burden of responsibility from my shoulders. suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by thesound of running feet behind me and by a voice which called me by name. i turned, expectingto see dr. mortimer, but to my surprise it was a stranger who was pursuing me. he wasa small, slim, clean-shaven, prim-faced man, flaxen-haired and leanjawed, between thirtyand forty years of age, dressed in a gray suit and wearing a straw hat. a tin box forbotanical specimens hung over his shoulder and he carried a green butterfly-net in oneof his hands. "you will, i am sure, excuse my presumption,dr. watson," said he as he came panting up

to where i stood. "here on the moor we arehomely folk and do not wait for formal introductions. you may possibly have heard my name from ourmutual friend, mortimer. i am stapleton, of merripit house." "your net and box would have told me as much,"said i, "for i knew that mr. stapleton was a naturalist. but how did you know me?" "i have been calling on mortimer, and he pointedyou out to me from the window of his surgery as you passed. as our road lay the same wayi thought that i would overtake you and introduce myself. i trust that sir henry is none theworse for his journey?" "he is very well, thank you."

"we were all rather afraid that after thesad death of sir charles the new baronet might refuse to live here. it is asking much ofa wealthy man to come down and bury himself in a place of this kind, but i need not tellyou that it means a very great deal to the countryside. sir henry has, i suppose, nosuperstitious fears in the matter?" "i do not think that it is likely." "of course you know the legend of the fienddog which haunts the family?" "i have heard it." "it is extraordinary how credulous the peasantsare about here! any number 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 eyes that he tookthe matter more seriously. "the story took a great hold upon the imagination of sir charles,and i have no doubt that it led to his tragic end." "his nerves were so worked up that the appearanceof any dog might have had 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. i feared that somedisaster might occur, for i was very fond of the old man, and i knew that his heartwas weak." "how did you know that?" "my friend mortimer told me."

"you think, then, that some dog pursued sircharles, and that he died of fright 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 instantbut a glance at the placid face and steadfast eyes of my companion showed that no surprisewas intended. "it is useless for us to pretend that we donot know you, dr. watson," said he. "the records of your detective have reached us here, andyou could not celebrate him without being known yourself. when mortimer told me yourname he could not deny your identity. if you

are here, then it follows that mr. sherlockholmes is interesting himself in the matter, and i am naturally curious to know what viewhe may take." "i am afraid that i cannot answer that question." "may i ask if he is going to honour us witha visit himself?" "he cannot leave town at present. he has othercases which engage his attention." "what a pity! he might throw some light onthat which is so dark to us. but as to your own researches, if there is any possible wayin which i can be of service to you i trust that you will command me. if i had any indicationof the nature of your suspicions or how you propose to investigate the case, i might perhapseven now give you some aid or advice."

"i assure you that i am simply here upon avisit to my friend, sir henry, and that i need no help of any kind." "excellent!" said stapleton. "you are perfectlyright to be wary and discreet. 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 grassypath struck off from the road and wound away across the moor. a steep, boulder-sprinkledhill lay upon the right which had in bygone days been cut into a granite quarry. the facewhich was turned towards us formed a dark cliff, with ferns and brambles growing inits niches. from over a distant rise there

floated a gray plume of smoke. "a moderate walk along this moor-path bringsus to merripit house," said he. "perhaps you will spare an hour that i may have the pleasureof introducing you to my sister." my first thought was that i should be by sirhenry's side. but then i remembered the pile of papers and bills with which his study tablewas littered. it was certain that i could not help with those. and holmes had expresslysaid that i should study the neighbours upon the moor. i accepted stapleton's invitation,and we turned together down the path. "it is a wonderful place, the moor," saidhe, looking round over the undulating downs, long green rollers, with crests of jaggedgranite foaming up into fantastic surges.

"you never tire of the moor. you cannot thinkthe wonderful secrets which it contains. it is so vast, and so barren, and so mysterious." "you know it well, then?" "i have only been here two years. the residentswould call me a newcomer. we came shortly after sir charles settled. but my tastes ledme to explore every part of the country round, and i should think that there are few menwho know it better than i do." "is it hard to know?" "very hard. you see, for example, this greatplain to the north here with 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 thoughthas cost several their lives before now. you notice those bright green spots scatteredthickly over it?" "yes, they seem more fertile than the rest." stapleton laughed. "that is the great grimpenmire," said he. "a false step yonder means death to man or beast. only yesterday i sawone of the moor ponies wander into it. he never came out. i saw his head for quite along time craning out of the bog-hole, but it sucked him down at last. even in dry seasonsit is a danger to cross it, but after these autumn rains it is an awful place. and yeti can find my way to the very heart of it

and return alive. by george, there is anotherof those miserable ponies!" something brown was rolling and tossing amongthe green sedges. then a long, agonized, writhing neck shot upward and a dreadful cry echoedover the moor. it turned me cold with horror, but my companion's nerves seemed to be strongerthan mine. "it's gone!" said he. "the mire has him. twoin two days, and many more, perhaps, for they get in the way of going there in the dry weatherand never know the difference until the mire has them in its clutches. it's a bad place,the great grimpen mire." "and you say you can penetrate it?" "yes, there are one or two paths which a veryactive man can take. i have found them out."

"but why should you wish to go into so horriblea place?" "well, you see the hills beyond? they arereally islands cut off on all sides by the impassable mire, which has crawled round themin the course of 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. "forgod's sake put such an idea out of your mind," said he. "your blood would be upon my head.i assure you that there would not be the least chance of your coming back alive. it is onlyby remembering certain complex landmarks that i am able to do it."

"halloa!" i cried. "what is that?" a long, low moan, indescribably sad, sweptover the moor. it filled the whole air, and yet it was impossible to say whence it came.from a dull murmur it swelled into a deep roar, and then sank back into a melancholy,throbbing murmur once again. stapleton looked at me with a curious expression in his face. "queer place, the moor!" said he. "but what is it?" "the peasants say it is the hound of the baskervillescalling for its prey. i've heard it once or twice before, but never quite so loud."

i looked round, with a chill of fear in myheart, at the huge swelling plain, mottled with the green patches of rushes. nothingstirred over the vast expanse save a pair of ravens, which croaked loudly from a torbehind us. "you are an educated man. you don't believesuch nonsense as that?" said i. "what do you think is the cause of so strange a sound?" "bogs make queer noises sometimes. it's themud settling, or the water rising, or something." "no, no, that was a living voice." "well, perhaps it was. did you ever hear abittern booming?" "no, i never did."

"it's a very rare bird—practically extinct—inengland now, but all things 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 everi heard in my life." "yes, it's rather an uncanny place altogether.look at the hillside yonder. what do you make of those?" the whole steep slope was covered with graycircular rings of stone, a score of them at least. "what are they? sheep-pens?"

"no, they are the homes of our worthy ancestors.prehistoric man lived thickly on the moor, and as no one in particular has lived theresince, we find all his little arrangements exactly as he left them. these are his wigwamswith the roofs off. you can even see his hearth and his couch if you have the curiosity togo 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, andhe learned to dig for tin when the bronze sword began to supersede the stone axe. lookat the great trench in the opposite hill.

that is his mark. yes, you will find somevery singular points about the moor, dr. watson. oh, excuse me an instant! it is surely cyclopides." a small fly or moth had fluttered across ourpath, and in an instant stapleton was rushing with extraordinary energy and speed in pursuitof it. to my dismay the creature flew straight for the great mire, and my acquaintance neverpaused for an instant, bounding from tuft to tuft behind it, his green net waving inthe air. his gray clothes and jerky, zigzag, irregular progress made him not unlike somehuge moth himself. i was standing watching his pursuit with a mixture of admiration forhis extraordinary activity and fear lest he should lose his footing in the treacherousmire, when i heard the sound of steps and,

turning round, found a woman near me uponthe path. she had come from the direction in which the plume of smoke indicated theposition of merripit house, but the dip of the moor had hid her until she was quite close. i could not doubt that this was the miss stapletonof whom i had been told, since ladies of any sort must be few upon the moor, and i rememberedthat i had heard someone describe her as being a beauty. the woman who approached me wascertainly that, and of a most uncommon type. there could not have been a greater contrastbetween brother and sister, for stapleton was neutral tinted, with light hair and grayeyes, while she 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 it might have seemed impassivewere it not for the sensitive mouth and the beautiful dark, eager eyes. with her perfectfigure and elegant dress she was, indeed, a strange apparition upon a lonely moorlandpath. her eyes were on her brother as i turned, and then she quickened her pace towards me.i had raised my hat and was about to make some explanatory remark when her own wordsturned all my thoughts into a new channel. "go back!" she said. "go straight back tolondon, instantly." i could only stare at her in stupid surprise.her eyes blazed at me, and she tapped the ground impatiently with her foot. "why should i go back?" i asked.

"i cannot explain." she spoke in a low, eagervoice, with a curious lisp in her utterance. "but for god's sake do what i ask you. goback and never set foot upon the moor again." "but i have only just come." "man, man!" she cried. "can you not tell whena warning is for your own good? go back to london! start tonight! get away from thisplace at all costs! hush, my brother is coming! not a word of what i have said. would youmind getting that orchid for me among the mare's-tails yonder? we are very rich in orchidson the moor, though, of course, you are rather late to see the beauties of the place." stapleton had abandoned the chase and cameback to us breathing hard and flushed with

his exertions. "halloa, beryl!" said he, and it seemed tome that the tone of his greeting was not altogether a cordial one. "well, jack, you are very hot." "yes, i was chasing a cyclopides. he is veryrare and seldom found in the late autumn. what a pity that i should have missed him!"he spoke unconcernedly, but his small light eyes glanced incessantly from the girl tome. "you have introduced yourselves, i can see." "yes. i was telling sir henry that it wasrather late for him to see the true 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 is dr. watson." a flush of vexation passed over her expressiveface. "we have been talking at cross purposes," said she. "why, you had not very much time for talk,"her brother remarked with the same questioning eyes. "i talked as if dr. watson were a residentinstead of being merely a visitor," said she.

"it cannot much matter to him whether it isearly or late for the orchids. but you will come on, will you not, and see merripit house?" a short walk brought us to it, a bleak moorlandhouse, once the farm of some grazier in the old prosperous days, but now put into repairand turned into a modern dwelling. an orchard surrounded it, but the trees, as is usualupon the moor, were stunted and nipped, and the effect of the whole place was mean andmelancholy. we were admitted by a strange, wizened, rusty-coated old manservant, whoseemed in keeping with the house. inside, however, there were large rooms furnishedwith an elegance in which i seemed to recognize the taste of the lady. as i looked from theirwindows at the interminable granite-flecked

moor rolling unbroken to the farthest horizoni could not but marvel at what could have brought this highly educated man and thisbeautiful woman to live in such a place. "queer spot to choose, is it not?" said heas if in answer to my thought. "and yet we manage to make ourselves fairly happy, dowe not, beryl?" "quite happy," said she, but there was noring of conviction in her words. "i had a school," said stapleton. "it wasin the north country. the work to a man of my temperament was mechanical and uninteresting,but the privilege of living with youth, of helping to mould those young minds, and ofimpressing them with one's own character and ideals was very dear to me. however, the fateswere against us. a serious epidemic broke

out in the school and three of the boys died.it never recovered from the blow, and much of my capital was irretrievably swallowedup. and yet, if it were not for the loss of the charming companionship of the boys, icould rejoice over my own misfortune, for, with my strong tastes for botany and zoology,i find an unlimited field of work here, and my sister is as devoted to nature as i am.all this, dr. watson, has been brought upon your head by your expression as you surveyedthe moor out of our window." "it certainly did cross my mind that it mightbe a little dull—less for you, perhaps, than for your sister." "no, no, i am never dull," said she quickly.

"we have books, we have our studies, and wehave interesting neighbours. dr. mortimer is a most learned man in his own line. poorsir charles was also an admirable companion. we knew him well and miss him more than ican tell. do you think that i should intrude if i were to call this afternoon and makethe acquaintance of sir henry?" "i am sure that he would be delighted." "then perhaps you would mention that i proposeto do so. we may in our 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 inspectmy collection of lepidoptera? i think it is the most complete one in the south-west ofengland. by the time that you have looked

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 hadbeen associated with the grim legend of the baskervilles, all these things tinged my thoughtswith sadness. then on the top of these more or less vague impressions there had come thedefinite and distinct warning of miss stapleton, delivered with such intense earnestness thati could not doubt that some grave and deep reason lay behind it. i resisted all pressureto stay for lunch, and i set off at once upon my return journey, taking the grass-grownpath by which we had come. it seems, however, that there must have beensome short cut for those who knew it, for

before i had reached the road i was astoundedto see miss stapleton sitting upon a rock by the side of the track. her face was beautifullyflushed with her exertions and she held her hand to her side. "i have run all the way in order to cut youoff, dr. watson," said she. "i had not even time to put on my hat. i must not stop, ormy brother may miss me. i wanted to say to you how sorry i am about the stupid mistakei made in thinking that you were sir henry. please forget the words i said, which haveno application whatever to you." "but i can't forget them, miss stapleton,"said i. "i am sir henry's friend, and his welfare is a very close concern of mine. tellme why it was that you were so eager that

sir henry should return to london." "a woman's whim, dr. watson. when you knowme better you will understand that i cannot always give reasons for what i say or do." "no, no. i remember the thrill in your voice.i remember the look in your eyes. please, please, be frank with me, miss stapleton,for ever since i have been here i have been conscious of shadows all round me. life hasbecome like that great grimpen mire, with little green patches everywhere into whichone may sink and with no guide to point the track. tell me then what it was that you meant,and i will promise to convey your warning to sir henry."

an expression of irresolution passed for aninstant over her face, but her eyes had hardened again when she answered me. "you make too much of it, dr. watson," saidshe. "my brother and i were very much shocked by the death of sir charles. we knew him veryintimately, for his favourite walk was over the moor to our house. he was deeply impressedwith the curse which hung over the family, and when this tragedy came i naturally feltthat there must be some grounds for the fears which he had expressed. i was distressed thereforewhen another member of the family came down to live here, and i felt that he should bewarned of the danger which he will run. that was all which i intended 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 withsir henry, take him away from a place which has always been fatal to his family. the worldis wide. why should he wish to live at the place of danger?" "because it is the place of danger. that issir henry's nature. i fear that unless you can give me some more definite informationthan this it would be impossible to get him to move."

"i cannot say anything definite, for i donot know anything definite." "i would ask you one more question, miss stapleton.if you meant no more 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, or anyone else, couldobject." "my brother is very anxious to have the hallinhabited, for he thinks it is for the good of the poor folk upon the moor. he would bevery angry if he knew that i have said anything which might induce sir henry to go away. buti have done my duty now and i will say no more. i must go back, or he will miss me andsuspect that i have seen you. good-bye!" she turned and had disappeared in a few minutesamong the scattered boulders, while i, with

my soul full of vague fears, pursued my wayto baskerville hall. chapter 8. first report of dr. watson from this point onward i will follow the courseof events by transcribing my own letters to mr. sherlock holmes which lie before me onthe table. one page is missing, but otherwise they are exactly as written and show my feelingsand suspicions of the moment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon thesetragic events, can possibly do. baskerville hall, october 13th. my dear holmes:my previous letters and telegrams have kept you pretty well up to date as to all thathas occurred in this most god-forsaken corner of the world. the longer one stays here themore does the spirit of the moor sink into

one's soul, its vastness, and also its grimcharm. when you are once out upon its bosom you have left all traces of modern englandbehind you, but, on the other hand, you are conscious everywhere of the homes and thework of the prehistoric people. on all sides of you as you walk are the houses of theseforgotten folk, with their graves and the huge monoliths which are supposed to havemarked their temples. as you look at their gray stone huts against the scarred hillsidesyou leave your own age behind you, and if you were to see a skin-clad, hairy man crawlout from the low door fitting a flint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow, you wouldfeel that his presence there was more natural than your own. the strange thing is that theyshould have lived so thickly on what must

always have been most unfruitful soil. i amno antiquarian, but i could imagine that they were some unwarlike and harried race who wereforced to accept that which none other would occupy. all this, however, is foreign to the missionon which you sent me and will probably be very uninteresting to your severely practicalmind. i can still remember your complete indifference as to whether the sun moved round the earthor the earth round the sun. let me, therefore, return to the facts concerning sir henry baskerville. if you have not had any report within thelast few days it is because up to today there was nothing of importance to relate. thena very surprising circumstance occurred, which

i shall tell you in due course. but, firstof all, i must keep you in touch with some of the other factors in the situation. one of these, concerning which i have saidlittle, is the escaped convict upon the moor. there is strong reason now to believe thathe has got right away, which is a considerable relief to the lonely householders of thisdistrict. a fortnight has passed since his flight, during which he has not been seenand nothing has been heard of him. it is surely inconceivable that he could have held outupon the moor during all that time. of course, so far as his concealment goes there is nodifficulty at all. any one of these stone huts would give him a hiding-place. but thereis nothing to eat unless he were to catch

and slaughter 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 take good 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, the latter not a very strong man. they wouldbe helpless in the hands of a desperate fellow like this notting hill criminal if he couldonce effect an entrance. both sir henry and i were concerned at their situation, and itwas suggested that perkins the groom should go over to sleep there, but stapleton wouldnot hear of it.

the fact is that our friend, the baronet,begins to display a considerable interest in our fair neighbour. it is not to be wonderedat, for time hangs heavily in this lonely spot to an active man like him, and she isa very fascinating and beautiful woman. there is something tropical and exotic about herwhich forms a singular contrast to her cool and unemotional brother. yet he also givesthe idea of hidden fires. he has certainly a very marked influence over her, for i haveseen her continually glance at him as she talked as if seeking approbation for whatshe said. i trust that he is kind to her. there is a dry glitter in his eyes and a firmset of his thin lips, which goes with a positive and possibly a harsh nature. you would findhim an interesting study.

he came over to call upon baskerville on thatfirst day, and the very next morning he took us both to show us the spot where the legendof the wicked hugo is supposed to have had its origin. it was an excursion of some milesacross the moor to a place which is so dismal that it might have suggested the story. wefound a short valley between rugged tors which led to an open, grassy space flecked overwith the white cotton grass. in the middle of it rose two great stones, worn and sharpenedat the upper end until they looked like the huge corroding fangs of some monstrous beast.in every way it corresponded with the scene of the old tragedy. sir henry was much interestedand asked stapleton more than once whether he did really believe in the possibility ofthe interference of the supernatural in the

affairs of men. he spoke lightly, but it wasevident that he was very much in earnest. stapleton was guarded in his replies, butit was easy to see that he said less than he might, and that he would not express hiswhole opinion out of consideration for the feelings of the baronet. he told us of similarcases, where families had suffered from some evil influence, and he left us with the impressionthat he shared the popular view upon the matter. on our way back we stayed for lunch at merripithouse, and it was there that sir henry made the acquaintance of miss stapleton. from thefirst moment that he saw her he appeared to be strongly attracted by her, and i am muchmistaken if the feeling was not mutual. he referred to her again and again on our walkhome, and since then hardly a day has passed

that we have not seen something of the brotherand sister. they dine here tonight, and there is some talk of our going to them next week.one would imagine that such a match would be very welcome to stapleton, and yet i havemore than once caught a look of the strongest disapprobation in his face when sir henryhas been paying some attention to his sister. he is much attached to her, no doubt, andwould lead a lonely life without her, but it would seem the height of selfishness ifhe were to stand 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 have several times observedthat he has taken pains to prevent them from being tete-a-tete. by the way, your instructionsto me never to allow sir henry to go out alone

will become very much more onerous if a loveaffair were to be added to our other difficulties. my popularity would soon suffer if i wereto 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 a single-minded enthusiastas he! the stapletons came in afterwards, and the good doctor took us all to the yewalley at sir henry's request to show us exactly how everything occurred upon that fatal night.it is a long, dismal walk, the yew alley, between two high walls of clipped hedge, witha narrow band of grass upon either side. at the far end is an old tumble-down summer-house.halfway down is the moor-gate, where the old

gentleman left his cigar-ash. it is a whitewooden gate with a 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 stood there he saw somethingcoming across the moor, something which terrified him so that he lost his wits and ran and ranuntil he died of sheer horror 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 barrymoreknow more than he cared to say? it was all dim and vague, but always there is the darkshadow of crime behind it. one other neighbour i have met since i wrotelast. this is mr. frankland, of lafter hall,

who lives some four miles to the south ofus. he is an elderly man, red-faced, white-haired, and choleric. his passion is for the britishlaw, and he has spent a large fortune in litigation. he fights for the mere pleasure of fightingand is equally ready to take up either side of a question, so that it is no wonder thathe has found it a costly amusement. sometimes he will shut up a right of way and defy theparish to make him open it. at others he will with his own hands tear down some other man'sgate and declare that a path has existed there from time immemorial, defying the owner toprosecute him for trespass. he is learned in old manorial and communal rights, and heapplies his knowledge sometimes in favour of the villagers of fernworthy and sometimesagainst them, so that he is periodically either

carried in triumph down the village streetor else burned in effigy, according to his latest exploit. he is said to have about sevenlawsuits upon his hands at present, which will probably swallow up the remainder ofhis fortune and so draw his sting and leave him harmless for the future. apart from thelaw he seems a kindly, good-natured person, and i only mention him because you were particularthat i should send some description of the people who surround us. he is curiously employedat present, for, being an amateur astronomer, he has an excellent telescope, with whichhe lies upon the roof of his own house and sweeps the moor all day in the hope of catchinga glimpse of the escaped convict. if he would confine his energies to this all would bewell, but there are rumours that he intends

to prosecute dr. mortimer for opening a gravewithout the consent of the next of kin because he dug up the neolithic skull in the barrowon long down. he helps to keep our lives from being monotonous and gives a little comicrelief where it is badly needed. and now, having brought you up to date inthe escaped convict, the stapletons, dr. mortimer, and frankland, of lafter hall, let me endon that which is most important and tell you more about the barrymores, and especiallyabout the surprising development of last night. first of all about the test telegram, whichyou sent from london in order to make sure that barrymore was really here. i have alreadyexplained that the testimony of the postmaster shows that the test was worthless and thatwe have no proof one way or the other. i told

sir henry how the matter stood, and he atonce, in his downright fashion, had barrymore up and asked him whether he had received thetelegram himself. barrymore said that he had. "did the boy deliver it into your own hands?"asked sir henry. barrymore looked surprised, and consideredfor a little time. "no," said he, "i was in the box-room at thetime, and my wife brought it up to me." "did you answer it yourself?" "no; i told my wife what to answer and shewent down to write it." in the evening he recurred to the subjectof his own accord. "i could not quite understand the object ofyour questions this morning, sir henry," said

he. "i trust that they do not mean that ihave done anything to forfeit your confidence?" sir henry had to assure him that it was notso and pacify him by giving him a considerable part of his old wardrobe, the london outfithaving now all arrived. mrs. barrymore is of interest to me. she isa heavy, solid person, very limited, intensely respectable, and inclined to be puritanical.you could hardly conceive a less emotional subject. yet i have told you how, on the firstnight here, i heard her sobbing bitterly, and since then i have more than once observedtraces of tears upon her face. some deep sorrow gnaws ever at her heart. sometimes i wonderif she has a guilty memory which haunts her, and sometimes i suspect barrymore of beinga domestic tyrant. i have always felt that

there was something singular and questionablein this man's character, but the adventure of last night brings all my suspicions toa head. and yet it may seem a small matter in itself.you are aware that i am not 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 the morning, i was arousedby a stealthy step passing my room. i rose, opened my door, and peeped out. a long blackshadow was trailing down the corridor. it was thrown by a man who walked softly downthe passage with a candle held in his hand. he was in shirt and trousers, with no coveringto his feet. i could merely see the outline, but his height told me that it was barrymore.he walked very slowly and circumspectly, and

there was something indescribably guilty andfurtive in his whole appearance. i have told you that the corridor is brokenby the balcony which runs round the hall, but that it is resumed upon the farther side.i waited until he had passed out of sight and then i followed him. when i came roundthe balcony he had reached the end of the farther corridor, and i could see from theglimmer of light through an open door that he had entered one of the rooms. now, allthese rooms are unfurnished and unoccupied so that his expedition became more mysteriousthan ever. the light shone steadily as if he were standing motionless. i crept downthe passage as noiselessly as i could and peeped round the corner of the door.

barrymore was crouching at the window withthe candle held against the glass. his profile was half turned towards me, and his face seemedto be rigid with expectation as he stared out into the blackness of the moor. for someminutes he stood watching intently. then he gave a deep groan and with an impatient gesturehe put out the light. instantly i made my way back to my room, and very shortly camethe stealthy steps passing once more upon their return journey. long afterwards wheni had fallen into 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, but there is some secretbusiness going on in this house of gloom which sooner or later we shall get to the bottomof. i do not trouble you with my theories,

for you asked me to furnish you only withfacts. i have had a long talk with sir henry this morning, and we have made a plan of campaignfounded upon my observations of last night. i will not speak about it just now, but itshould make my next report interesting reading. chapter 9. the light upon the moor [secondreport of dr. watson] baskerville hall, oct. 15th. my dear holmes:if i was compelled to leave you without much news during the early days of my mission youmust acknowledge that i am making up for lost time, and that events are now crowding thickand fast upon us. in my last report i ended upon my top note with barrymore at the window,and now i have quite a budget already which will, unless i am much mistaken, considerablysurprise you. things have taken a turn which

i could not have anticipated. in some waysthey have within the last forty-eight hours become much clearer and in some ways theyhave become more complicated. but i will tell you all and you shall judge for yourself. before breakfast on the morning followingmy adventure i went down the corridor and examined the room in which barrymore had beenon the night before. the western window through which he had stared so intently has, i noticed,one peculiarity above all other windows in the house—it commands the nearest outlookon to the moor. there is an opening between two trees which enables one from this pointof view to look right down upon it, while from all the other windows it is only a distantglimpse which can be obtained. it follows,

therefore, that barrymore, since only thiswindow would serve the purpose, must have been looking out for something or somebodyupon the moor. the night was very dark, so that i can hardly imagine how he could havehoped to see anyone. it had struck me that it was possible that some love intrigue wason foot. that would have accounted for his stealthy movements and also for the uneasinessof his wife. the man is a striking-looking fellow, very well equipped to steal the heartof a country girl, so that this theory seemed to have something to support it. that openingof the door which i had heard after i had returned to my room might mean that he hadgone out to keep some clandestine appointment. so i reasoned with myself in the morning,and i tell you the direction of my suspicions,

however much the result may have shown thatthey were unfounded. but whatever the true explanation of barrymore'smovements might be, i felt that the responsibility of keeping them to myself until i could explainthem was more than i could bear. i had an interview with the baronet in his study afterbreakfast, and i told him all that i had seen. he was less surprised than i had expected. "i knew that barrymore walked about nights,and i had a mind to speak to him about it," said he. "two or three times i have heardhis steps in the passage, coming and going, just about the hour you name." "perhaps then he pays a visit every nightto that particular window," i suggested.

"perhaps he does. if so, we should be ableto shadow him and see what it is that he is after. i wonder what your friend holmes woulddo if he were here." "i believe that he would do exactly what younow suggest," said i. "he would 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 wemust take our chance of that. we'll sit up in my room tonight and wait until he passes."sir henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident that he hailed the adventureas a relief to his somewhat quiet life upon

the moor. the baronet has been in communication withthe architect who prepared the plans for sir charles, and with a contractor from london,so that we may expect great changes to begin here soon. there have been decorators andfurnishers up from plymouth, and it is evident that our friend has large ideas and meansto spare no pains or expense to restore the grandeur of his family. when the house isrenovated and refurnished, all that he will need will be a wife to make it complete. betweenourselves there are pretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if the lady is willing,for i have seldom seen a man more infatuated with a woman than he is with our beautifulneighbour, miss stapleton. and yet the course

of true love does not run quite as smoothlyas one would under the circumstances expect. today, for example, its surface was brokenby a very unexpected ripple, which has caused our friend considerable perplexity and annoyance. after the conversation which i have quotedabout barrymore, sir henry put on his hat and prepared to go out. as a matter of coursei did the same. "what, are you coming, watson?" he asked,looking at me in a curious way. "that depends on whether you are going onthe moor," said i. "yes, i am." "well, you know what my instructions are.i am sorry to intrude, but you heard how earnestly

holmes insisted that i should not leave you,and especially that you should not go alone upon the moor." sir henry put his hand upon my shoulder witha pleasant smile. "my dear fellow," said he, "holmes, with allhis wisdom, did not foresee some things which have happened since i have been on the moor.you understand me? i am sure that you are the last man in the world who would wish tobe a spoil-sport. i must go out alone." it put me in a most awkward position. i wasat a loss what to say or what to do, and before i had made up my mind he picked up his caneand was gone. but when i came to think the matter over myconscience reproached me bitterly for having

on any pretext allowed him to go out of mysight. i imagined what my feelings would be if i had to return to you and to confess thatsome misfortune had occurred through my disregard for your instructions. i assure you my cheeksflushed at the very thought. it might not even now be too late to overtake him, so iset off at once in the direction of merripit house. i hurried along the road at the top of myspeed without seeing anything of sir henry, until i came to the point where the moor pathbranches off. there, fearing that perhaps i had come in the wrong direction after all,i mounted a hill from which i could command a view—the same hill which is cut into thedark quarry. thence i saw him at once. he

was on the moor path about a quarter of amile off, and a lady was by his side who could only be miss stapleton. it was clear thatthere was already an understanding between them and that they had met by appointment.they were walking slowly along in deep conversation, and i saw her making quick little movementsof her hands as if she were very earnest in what she was saying, while he listened intently,and once or twice shook his head in strong dissent. i stood among the rocks watchingthem, very much puzzled 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 was never for an instantto let him out of my sight. to act the spy upon a friend was a hateful task. still, icould see no better course than to observe

him from the hill, and to clear my conscienceby confessing to him afterwards what i had done. it is true that if any sudden dangerhad threatened him i was too far away to be of use, and yet i am sure that you will agreewith me that the position was very difficult, and that there was nothing more which i coulddo. our friend, sir henry, and the lady had haltedon the path and were standing deeply absorbed in their conversation, when i was suddenlyaware that i was not the only witness of their interview. a wisp of green floating in theair caught my eye, and another glance showed me that it was carried on a stick by a manwho was moving among the broken ground. it was stapleton with his butterfly-net. he wasvery much closer to 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. his arm was round her,but it seemed to me that she was straining away from him with her face averted. he stoopedhis head to hers, and she raised one hand as if in protest. next moment i saw them springapart and turn hurriedly round. stapleton was the cause of the interruption. he wasrunning wildly towards them, his absurd net dangling behind him. he gesticulated and almostdanced with excitement in front of the lovers. what the scene meant i could not imagine,but it seemed to me that stapleton was abusing sir henry, who offered explanations, whichbecame more angry as the other refused to accept them. the lady stood by in haughtysilence. finally stapleton turned upon his

heel and beckoned in a peremptory way to hissister, who, after an irresolute glance at sir henry, walked off by the side of her brother.the naturalist's angry gestures showed that the lady was included in his displeasure.the baronet stood for a minute looking after them, and then he walked slowly back the waythat he had come, his head hanging, the very picture of dejection. what all this meant i could not imagine, buti was deeply ashamed to have witnessed so intimate a scene without my friend's knowledge.i ran down the hill therefore and met the baronet at the bottom. his face was flushedwith anger and his brows were wrinkled, like one who is at his wit's ends what to do.

"halloa, watson! where have you dropped from?"said he. "you don't mean to say that you came after me in spite of all?" i explained everything to him: how i had foundit impossible to remain behind, how i had followed him, and how i had witnessed allthat had occurred. for an instant his eyes blazed at me, but my frankness disarmed hisanger, and he broke at last into a rather rueful laugh. "you would have thought the middle of thatprairie a fairly safe place 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 mighty poor wooingat that! where had you engaged a seat?"

"i was on that hill." "quite in the back row, eh? but her brotherwas well up to the front. did you see him come out on us?" "yes, i did." "did he ever strike you as being crazy—thisbrother of hers?" "i can't say that he ever did." "i dare say not. i always thought him saneenough until today, but you can 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. tellme straight, now! is there anything that would

prevent me from making a good husband to awoman that i loved?" "i should say not." "he can't object to my worldly position, soit must be myself that he has this down on. what has he against me? i never hurt man orwoman in my life that i know of. and yet he would not so much as let me touch the tipsof her fingers." "did he say so?" "that, and a deal more. i tell you, watson,i've only known her these few weeks, but from the first i just felt that she was made forme, and she, too—she was happy when she was with me, and that i'll swear. there'sa light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder

than words. but he has never let us get togetherand it was only today for the first time that i saw a chance of having a few words withher alone. she was glad to meet me, but when she did it was not love that she would talkabout, and she wouldn't have let me talk about it either if she could have stopped it. shekept coming back to it that this was a place of danger, and that she would never be happyuntil i had left it. i told her that since i had seen her i was in no hurry to leaveit, and that if she really 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, but before she could answer,down came this brother of hers, running at us with a face on him like a madman. he wasjust white with rage, and those light eyes

of his were blazing with fury. what was idoing with the lady? 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 he had not beenher brother i should have known better how to answer him. as it was i told him that myfeelings towards his sister were such as i was not ashamed of, and that i hoped thatshe might honour me by becoming my wife. that seemed to make the matter no better, so theni lost my temper too, and i answered him rather more hotly than i should perhaps, consideringthat she was standing by. so it ended by his going off with her, as you saw, and here ami as badly puzzled a man as any in this county. just tell me what it all means, watson, andi'll owe you more than ever i can hope to

pay." i tried one or two explanations, but, indeed,i was completely puzzled myself. our friend's title, his fortune, his age, his character,and his appearance are all in his favour, and i know nothing against him unless it bethis dark fate which runs in his family. that his advances should be rejected so brusquelywithout any reference to the lady's own wishes and that the lady should accept the situationwithout protest is very amazing. however, our conjectures were set at rest by a visitfrom stapleton himself that very afternoon. he had come to offer apologies for his rudenessof the morning, and after a long private interview with sir henry in his study the upshot oftheir conversation was that the breach is

quite healed, and that we are to dine at merripithouse next friday as a sign of it. "i don't say now that he isn't a crazy man,"said sir henry; "i can't forget the look in his eyes when he ran at me this morning, buti must allow 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, hesays. that is natural enough, and i am glad that he should understand her value. theyhave always been together, and according to his account he has been a very lonely manwith only her as a companion, so that the thought of losing her was really terribleto him. he had not understood, he said, that

i was becoming attached to her, but when hesaw with his own eyes that it was really so, and that she might be taken away from him,it gave him such a shock 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 foolish and how selfishit was that he should imagine that he could hold a beautiful woman like his sister tohimself for her whole life. if she had to leave him he had rather it was to a neighbourlike myself than to anyone else. but in any case it was a blow to him and it would takehim some time before he could prepare himself to meet it. he would withdraw all oppositionupon his part if i would promise for three months to let the matter rest and to be contentwith cultivating the lady's friendship during

that time without claiming her love. thisi promised, and so the matter rests." so there is one of our small mysteries clearedup. it is something to have touched bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering.we know now why stapleton looked with disfavour upon his sister's suitor—even when thatsuitor was so eligible a one as sir henry. and now i pass on to another thread whichi have extricated out of the tangled skein, the mystery of the sobs in the night, of thetear-stained face of mrs. barrymore, of the secret journey of the butler to the westernlattice window. congratulate me, my dear holmes, and tell me that i have not disappointed youas an agent—that you do not regret the confidence which you showed in me when you sent me down.all these things have by one night's work

been thoroughly cleared. i have said "by one night's work," but, intruth, it was by two nights' work, for on the first we drew entirely blank. i sat upwith sir henry in his rooms until nearly three o'clock in the morning, but no sound of anysort did we hear except the chiming clock upon the stairs. it was a most melancholyvigil and ended by each of us falling asleep in our chairs. fortunately we were not discouraged,and we determined to try again. the next night we lowered the lamp and sat smoking cigaretteswithout making the least sound. it was incredible how slowly the hours crawled by, and yet wewere helped through it by the same sort of patient interest which the hunter must feelas he watches the trap into which he hopes

the game may wander. one struck, and two,and we had almost for the second time given it up in despair when in an instant we bothsat bolt upright in our chairs with all our weary senses keenly on the alert once more.we had heard the creak of a step in the passage. very stealthily we heard it pass along untilit died away in the distance. then the baronet gently opened his door and we set out in pursuit.already our man had gone round the gallery and the corridor was all in darkness. softlywe stole along until we had come into the other wing. we were just in time to catcha glimpse of the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded as he tiptoed down thepassage. then he passed through the same door as before, and the light of the candle framedit in the darkness and shot one single yellow

beam across the gloom of the corridor. weshuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank before we dared to put our whole weightupon it. we had taken the precaution of leaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the oldboards snapped and creaked beneath our tread. sometimes it seemed impossible that he shouldfail to hear our approach. however, the man is fortunately rather deaf, and he was entirelypreoccupied in that which he was doing. when at last we reached the door and peeped throughwe found him crouching at the window, candle in hand, his white, intent face pressed againstthe pane, exactly as i had seen him two nights before. we had arranged no plan of campaign, but thebaronet is a man to whom the most direct way

is always the most natural. he walked intothe room, and as he did so barrymore sprang up from the window with a sharp hiss of hisbreath and stood, livid and trembling, before us. his dark eyes, glaring out of the whitemask of his face, were full of horror and astonishment as he gazed from sir henry tome. "what are you doing here, barrymore?" "nothing, sir." his agitation was so greatthat he could hardly speak, and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking of hiscandle. "it was 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 our minds to have the truth out of you, so it will save you trouble totell it sooner rather than later. come, now! no lies! what were you doing at that window?" the fellow looked at us in a helpless way,and he wrung his hands together like one who is in the last extremity of doubt and misery. "i was doing no harm, sir. i was holding acandle to the window." "and why were you holding a candle to thewindow?" "don't ask me, sir henry—don't ask me! igive you my word, sir, that it is not my secret,

and that i cannot tell it. if it concernedno one but myself i would not try to keep it from you." a sudden idea occurred to me, and i took thecandle from the trembling hand of the butler. "he must have been holding it as a signal,"said i. "let us see if there is any answer." i held it as he had done, and stared out intothe darkness of the night. vaguely i could discern the black bank of the trees and thelighter expanse of the moor, for the moon was behind the clouds. and then i gave a cryof exultation, for a tiny pinpoint of yellow light had suddenly transfixed the dark veil,and glowed steadily in 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; "i assure 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 asignal? come, speak up! who is your confederate out yonder, and what is this conspiracy thatis going on?" the man's face became openly defiant. "itis 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 maywell be ashamed of yourself. 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 wasa woman's voice, and mrs. barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than her husband, wasstanding at the door. her bulky figure in a shawl and skirt might have been comic wereit not for the intensity of feeling upon her face. "we have to go, eliza. this is the end ofit. you can pack our things," said the butler. "oh, john, john, have i brought you to this?it is my doing, sir henry—all mine. he has

done nothing except for my sake and becausei asked him." "speak out, then! what does it mean?" "my unhappy brother is starving on the moor.we cannot let him perish at our very gates. the light is a signal to him that food isready 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. "isaid that it was not my secret and that i could not tell it to you. but now you haveheard it, and you will see that if there was

a plot it was not against you." this, then, was the explanation of the stealthyexpeditions at night and the light at the window. sir henry and i both stared at thewoman in amazement. was it possible that this stolidly respectable person was of the sameblood as one of the most notorious criminals in the country? "yes, sir, my name was selden, and he is myyounger brother. we humoured him too much when he was a lad and gave him his own wayin everything until he came to think that the world was made for his pleasure, and thathe could do what he liked in it. then as he grew older he met wicked companions, and thedevil entered into him until he broke my mother's

heart and dragged our name in the dirt. fromcrime to crime he sank lower and lower until it is only the mercy of god which has snatchedhim from the scaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the little curly-headed boy thati had nursed and played with as an elder sister would. that was why he broke prison, sir.he knew that i was here and that we could not refuse to help him. when he dragged himselfhere one night, weary and starving, with the warders hard at his heels, what could we do?we took him in and fed him and cared for him. then you returned, sir, and my brother thoughthe would be safer on the moor than anywhere else until the hue and cry was over, so helay in hiding there. but every second night we made sure if he was still there by puttinga light in the window, and if there was an

answer my husband took out some bread andmeat to him. every day we hoped that he was gone, but as long as he was there we couldnot desert him. that is the whole truth, as i am an honest christian woman and you willsee that if there is blame in the matter it does not lie with my husband but with me,for whose sake he has done all that he has." the woman's words came with an intense earnestnesswhich carried conviction with them. "is this true, barrymore?" "yes, sir henry. every word of it." "well, i cannot blame you for standing byyour own wife. forget what i have said. go to your room, you two, and we shall talk furtherabout this matter in the morning."

when they were gone we looked out of the windowagain. sir henry had flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in upon our faces. faraway in the black distance there still glowed that one tiny point of yellow light. "i wonder he dares," said sir henry. "it may be so placed as to be only visiblefrom 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 tocarry 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 the barrymores had taken us into their confidence. their secret hadbeen forced from them. the man was a danger to the community, an unmitigated scoundrelfor whom there was neither pity nor excuse. we were only doing our duty in taking thischance of putting him back where he could do no harm. with his brutal and violent nature,others would have to pay the price if we held our hands. any night, for example, our neighboursthe stapletons might be attacked by him, and it may have been the thought of this whichmade 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 the better, 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 moaningof the autumn wind and the rustle of the falling leaves. the night air was heavy with the smellof damp and decay. now and again the moon peeped out for an instant, but clouds weredriving over the face of the sky, and just as we came out on the moor a thin rain beganto fall. the light still burned steadily in front.

"are you armed?" i asked. "i have a hunting-crop." "we must close in on him rapidly, for he issaid to be a desperate fellow. we shall take him by surprise and have him at our mercybefore he can resist." "i say, watson," said the baronet, "what wouldholmes say to this? how about that hour of darkness in which the power of evil is exalted?" as if in answer to his words there rose suddenlyout of the vast gloom of the moor that strange cry which i had already heard upon the bordersof the great grimpen mire. it came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long,deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then

the sad moan in which it died away. againand again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild, and menacing. thebaronet caught my sleeve 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 themoor. i heard it once before." it died away, and an absolute silence closedin upon us. we stood straining our ears, but nothing came. "watson," said the baronet, "it was the cryof a hound." my blood ran cold in my veins, for there wasa break in his voice which told 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 shouldyou 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 thebaskervilles." he groaned and was silent for a few moments.

"a hound it was," he said at last, "but itseemed to come from miles away, over yonder, i think." "it was hard to say whence it came." "it rose and fell with the wind. isn't thatthe direction of the great grimpen mire?" "yes, it is." "well, it was up there. come now, watson,didn't you think yourself that it was the cry of a hound? i am not a child. you neednot fear to speak the truth." "stapleton was with me when i heard it last.he said that it might be the calling of a strange bird."

"no, no, it was a hound. my god, can therebe some truth in all these stories? is it possible that i am really in danger from sodark a cause? you don't believe it, do you, watson?" "no, no." "and yet it was one thing to laugh about itin london, and it is another to stand out here in the darkness of the moor and to hearsuch a cry as that. and my uncle! there was the footprint of the hound beside him as helay. it all fits together. i don't think that i am a coward, watson, but that sound seemedto 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 myhead. what do you advise that we do now?" "shall we turn back?" "no, by thunder; we have come out to get ourman, and we will do it. we after the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely as not, afterus. come on! we'll see it through if all the fiends of the pit were loose upon the moor." we stumbled slowly along in the darkness,with the black loom of the craggy hills around us, and the yellow speck of light burningsteadily in front. there is nothing so deceptive as the distance of a light upon a pitch-darknight, and sometimes the glimmer seemed to

be far away upon the horizon and sometimesit might have been within a few yards of us. but at last we could see whence it came, andthen we knew that we were indeed very close. a guttering candle was stuck in a creviceof the rocks which flanked it on each side so as to keep the wind from it and also toprevent it from being visible, save in the direction of baskerville hall. a boulder ofgranite concealed our approach, and crouching behind it we gazed over it at the signal light.it was strange to see this single candle burning there in the middle of the moor, with no signof life near it—just the one straight yellow flame and the gleam of the rock on each sideof it. "what shall we do now?" whispered sir henry.

"wait here. he must be near his light. letus see if we can get a glimpse of him." the words were hardly out of my mouth whenwe both saw him. over the rocks, in the crevice of which the candle burned, there was thrustout an evil yellow face, a terrible animal face, all seamed and scored with vile passions.foul with mire, with a bristling beard, and hung with matted hair, it might well havebelonged to one of those old savages who dwelt in the burrows on the hillsides. the lightbeneath him was reflected in his small, cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right and leftthrough the darkness like a crafty and savage animal who has heard the steps of the hunters. something had evidently aroused his suspicions.it may have been that barrymore had some private

signal which we had neglected to give, orthe fellow may have had some other reason for thinking that all was not well, but icould read his fears upon his wicked face. any instant he might dash out the light andvanish in the darkness. i sprang forward therefore, and sir henry did the same. at the same momentthe convict screamed 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, stronglybuilt figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run. at the same moment by a luckychance the moon broke through the clouds. we rushed over the brow of the hill, and therewas our man running with great speed down the other side, springing over the stonesin his way with the activity of a mountain

goat. a lucky long shot of my revolver mighthave crippled him, but i had brought it only to defend myself if attacked and not to shootan unarmed man who was running away. we were both swift runners and in fairly goodtraining, but we soon found that we had no chance of overtaking him. we saw him for along time in the moonlight until he was only a small speck moving swiftly among the bouldersupon the side of a distant hill. we ran and ran until we were completely blown, but thespace between us grew ever wider. finally we stopped and sat panting on two rocks, whilewe watched him disappearing in the distance. and it was at this moment that there occurreda most strange and unexpected thing. we had risen from our rocks and were turning to gohome, having abandoned the hopeless chase.

the moon was low upon the right, and the jaggedpinnacle of a granite tor stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc. there,outlined as black as an ebony statue on that shining background, i saw the figure of aman upon the tor. do not think that it was a delusion, holmes. i assure you that i havenever in my life seen anything more clearly. as far as i could judge, the figure was thatof a tall, thin man. he stood with his legs a little separated, his arms folded, his headbowed, as if he were brooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granite which lay beforehim. he might have been the very spirit of that terrible place. it was not the convict.this man was far from the place where the latter had disappeared. besides, he was amuch taller man. with a cry of surprise i

pointed him out to the baronet, but in theinstant during which i had turned to grasp his arm the man was gone. there was the sharppinnacle of granite still cutting the lower edge of the moon, but its peak bore no traceof that silent and motionless figure. i wished to go in that direction and to searchthe tor, but it was some distance away. the baronet's nerves were still quivering fromthat cry, which recalled the dark story of his family, and he was not in the mood forfresh adventures. he had not seen this lonely man upon the tor and could not feel the thrillwhich his strange presence and his commanding attitude had given to me. "a warder, no doubt,"said he. "the moor has been thick with them since this fellow escaped." well, perhapshis explanation may be the right one, but

i should like to have some further proof ofit. today we mean to communicate to the princetown people where they should look for their missingman, but it is hard lines that we have not actually had the triumph of bringing him backas our own prisoner. such are the adventures of last night, and you must acknowledge, mydear holmes, that i have done you very well in the matter of a report. much of what itell you is no doubt quite irrelevant, but still i feel that it is best that i shouldlet you have all the facts and leave you to select for yourself those which will be ofmost service to you in helping you to your conclusions. we are certainly making someprogress. so far as the barrymores go we have found the motive of their actions, and thathas cleared up the situation very much. but

the moor with its mysteries and its strangeinhabitants remains as inscrutable as ever. perhaps in my next i may be able to throwsome light upon this also. best of all would it be if you could come down to us. in anycase you will hear from me again in the course of the next few days. chapter 10. extract from the diary of dr.watson so far i have been able to quote from thereports which i have forwarded during these early days to sherlock holmes. now, however,i have arrived at a point in my narrative where i am compelled to abandon this methodand to trust once more to my recollections, aided by the diary which i kept at the time.a few extracts from the latter will carry

me on to those scenes which are indeliblyfixed in every detail upon my memory. i proceed, then, from the morning which followed ourabortive chase of the convict and our other strange experiences upon the moor. october 16th. a dull and foggy day with adrizzle of rain. the house is banked in with rolling clouds, which rise now and then toshow the dreary curves of the moor, with thin, silver veins upon the sides of the hills,and the distant boulders gleaming where the light strikes upon their wet faces. it ismelancholy outside and in. the baronet is in a black reaction after the excitementsof the night. i am conscious myself of a weight at my heart and a feeling of impending danger—everpresent danger, which is the more terrible

because i am unable to define it. and have i not cause for such a feeling? considerthe long sequence of incidents which have all pointed to some sinister influence whichis at work around us. there is the death of the last occupant of the hall, fulfillingso exactly the conditions of the family legend, and there are the repeated reports from peasantsof the appearance of a strange creature upon the moor. twice i have with my own ears heardthe sound which resembled the distant baying of a hound. it is incredible, impossible,that it should really be outside the ordinary laws of nature. a spectral hound which leavesmaterial footmarks and fills the air with its howling is surely not to be thought of.stapleton may fall in with such a superstition,

and mortimer also, but if i have one qualityupon earth it is common sense, and nothing will persuade me to believe in such a thing.to do so would be to descend to the level of these poor peasants, who are not contentwith a mere fiend dog but must needs describe him with hell-fire shooting from his mouthand eyes. holmes would not listen to such fancies, and i am his agent. but facts arefacts, and i have twice heard this crying upon the moor. suppose that there were reallysome huge hound loose upon it; that would go far to explain everything. but where couldsuch a hound lie concealed, where did it get its food, where did it come from, how wasit that no one saw it by day? it must be confessed that the natural explanation offers almostas many difficulties as the other. and always,

apart from the hound, there is the fact ofthe human agency in london, the man in the cab, and the letter which warned sir henryagainst the moor. this at least was real, but it might have been the work of a protectingfriend as easily as of an enemy. where is that friend or enemy now? has he remainedin london, or has he followed us down here? could he—could he be the stranger whom isaw upon the tor? it is true that i have had only the one glanceat him, and yet there are some things to which i am ready to swear. he is no one whom i haveseen down here, and i have now met all the neighbours. the figure was far taller thanthat of stapleton, far thinner than that of frankland. barrymore it might possibly havebeen, but we had left him behind us, and i

am certain that he could not have followedus. a stranger then is still dogging us, just as a stranger dogged us in london. we havenever shaken him off. if i could lay my hands upon that man, then at last we might findourselves at the end of all our difficulties. to this one purpose i must now devote allmy energies. my first impulse was to tell sir henry allmy plans. my second and wisest one is to play my own game and speak as little as possibleto anyone. he is silent and distrait. his nerves have been strangely shaken by thatsound upon the moor. i will say nothing to add to his anxieties, but i will take my ownsteps to attain my own end. we had a small scene this morning after breakfast.barrymore asked leave to 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 of voices raised,and i had a pretty good idea what the point was which was under discussion. after a timethe baronet opened his door and called for me. "barrymore considers that he has a grievance,"he said. "he thinks that it was unfair on our part to hunt his brother-in-law down whenhe, of his own free will, had told us the secret." the butler was standing very pale but verycollected before us. "i may have spoken too warmly, sir," saidhe, "and if i have, i am sure that i beg your pardon. at the same time, i was very muchsurprised when i heard you two gentlemen come

back this morning and learned that you hadbeen chasing selden. the poor fellow has enough to fight against without my putting more uponhis track." "if you had told us of your own free willit would have been a different thing," said the baronet, "you only told us, or ratheryour wife only told us, when it was forced from you and you could not help yourself." "i didn't think you would have taken advantageof it, sir henry—indeed i didn't." "the man is a public danger. there are lonelyhouses scattered over the moor, and he is a fellow who would stick at nothing. you onlywant to get 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 for anyone until he is under lockand key." "he'll break into no house, sir. i give youmy solemn word upon that. but he will never trouble anyone in this country again. i assureyou, sir henry, that in a very few days the necessary arrangements will have been madeand he will be on his way to south america. for god's sake, sir, i beg of you not to letthe police know that he is still on the moor. they have given up the chase there, and hecan lie quiet until the ship is ready for him. you can't tell on him without gettingmy wife and me into trouble. i beg you, sir, to say nothing to the police." "what do you say, watson?"

i shrugged my shoulders. "if he were safelyout of the country it would relieve the tax-payer of a burden." "but how about the chance of his holding someoneup before he goes?" "he would not do anything so mad, sir. wehave provided him with all that he can want. to commit a crime would be to show where hewas hiding." "that is true," said sir henry. "well, barrymore—" "god bless you, sir, and thank you from myheart! it would have killed my poor wife had he been taken again." "i guess we are aiding and abetting a felony,watson? but, after what we have heard i don't

feel as if i could give the man up, so thereis an end of it. all right, barrymore, you can go." with a few broken words of gratitude the manturned, but he hesitated and then came back. "you've been so kind to us, sir, that i shouldlike to do the best i can for you in return. i know something, sir henry, and perhaps ishould have said it before, but it was long after the inquest that i found it out. i'venever breathed a word about it yet to mortal man. it's about poor 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."

"i know why he was at the gate at that hour.it was to meet a woman." "to meet a woman! he?" "and the woman's name?" "i can't give you the name, sir, but i cangive you the initials. her initials were l. l." "how do you know this, barrymore?" "well, sir henry, your uncle had a letterthat morning. he had usually a great many letters, for he was a public man and wellknown for his kind heart, so that everyone who was in trouble was glad to turn to him.but that morning, as it chanced, there was

only this one letter, so i took the more noticeof it. it was from coombe tracey, and it was addressed in a woman's hand." "well, sir, i thought no more of the matter,and never would have done had it not been for my wife. only a few weeks ago she wascleaning out sir 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 greater part of itwas charred to pieces, but one little slip, the end of a page, hung together, and thewriting could still be read, though it was gray on a black ground. it seemed to us tobe a postscript at the end of the letter and it said: 'please, please, as you are a gentleman,burn this letter, and be at the gate by ten

o clock. beneath it were signed the initialsl. l." "have you got that slip?" "no, sir, it crumbled all to bits after wemoved it." "had sir charles received any other lettersin the same writing?" "well, sir, i took no particular notice ofhis letters. i should not have 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 expectif we could lay our hands upon that lady we should know more about sir charles's death."

"i cannot understand, barrymore, how you cameto conceal this important information." "well, sir, it was immediately after thatour own trouble came to us. and then again, sir, we were both of us very fond of sir charles,as we well might be considering all that he has done for us. to rake this up couldn'thelp our poor master, and it's well to go carefully when there'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 ofit. but now you have been kind to us, and i feel as if it would be treating you unfairlynot to tell you all that i know about the matter."

"very good, barrymore; you can go." when thebutler had left us sir henry turned to me. "well, watson, what do you think of this newlight?" "it seems to leave the darkness rather blackerthan before." "so i think. but if we can only trace l. l.it should clear up the whole business. we have gained that much. we know that thereis someone who has the facts if we can only find her. what do you think we should do?" "let holmes know all about it at once. itwill give him the clue for which he has been seeking. i am much mistaken if it does notbring him down." i went at once to my room and drew up my reportof the morning's conversation for holmes.

it was evident to me that he had been verybusy of late, for the notes which i had from baker street were few and short, with no commentsupon the information which i had supplied and hardly any reference to my mission. nodoubt his blackmailing case is absorbing all his faculties. and yet this new factor mustsurely arrest his attention and renew his interest. i wish that he were here. october 17th. all day today the rain poureddown, rustling on the ivy and dripping from the eaves. i thought of the convict out uponthe bleak, cold, shelterless moor. poor devil! whatever his crimes, he has suffered somethingto atone for them. and then i thought of that other one—the face in the cab, the figureagainst the moon. was he also out in that

deluged—the unseen watcher, the man of darkness?in the evening i put on my waterproof and i walked far upon the sodden moor, full ofdark imaginings, the rain beating upon my face and the wind whistling about my ears.god help those who wander into the great mire now, for even the firm uplands are becominga morass. i found the black tor upon which i had seen the solitary watcher, and fromits craggy summit i looked out myself across the melancholy downs. rain squalls driftedacross their russet face, and the heavy, slate-coloured clouds hung low over the landscape, trailingin gray wreaths down the sides of the fantastic hills. in the distant hollow on the left,half hidden by the mist, the two thin towers of baskerville hall rose above the trees.they were the only signs of human life which

i could see, save only those prehistoric hutswhich lay thickly upon the slopes of the hills. nowhere was there any trace of that lonelyman whom i had seen on the same spot two nights as i walked back i was overtaken by dr. mortimerdriving in his dog-cart over a rough moorland track which led from the outlying farmhouseof foulmire. he has been very attentive to us, and hardly a day has passed that he hasnot called at the hall to see how we were getting on. he insisted upon my climbing intohis dog-cart, and he gave me a lift homeward. i found him much troubled over the disappearanceof his little spaniel. it had wandered on to the moor and had never come back. i gavehim such consolation as i might, but i thought of the pony on the grimpen mire, and i donot fancy that he will see his little dog

again. "by the way, mortimer," said i as we joltedalong the rough road, "i suppose there are few people living within driving distanceof this whom you do not know?" "hardly any, i think." "can you, then, tell me the name of any womanwhose initials are l. l.?" he thought for a few minutes. "no," said he. "there are a few gipsies andlabouring folk for whom i can't answer, but among the farmers or gentry there is no onewhose initials are those. wait a bit though," he added after a pause. "there is laura lyons—herinitials 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 the moor. he proved to be a blackguard and deserted her. the faultfrom what i hear may not have been entirely on one side. her father refused to have anythingto do with her because she had married without his consent and perhaps for one or two otherreasons as well. so, between the old sinner and the young one the girl has had a prettybad 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 mayhave deserved one could not allow her to go hopelessly to the bad. her story got about,and several of the people here did something to enable her to earn an honest living. stapletondid for one, and sir charles for another. i gave a trifle myself. it was to set herup in a typewriting business." he wanted to know the object of my inquiries,but i managed to satisfy his curiosity without telling him too much, for there is no reasonwhy we should take anyone into our confidence. tomorrow morning i shall find my way to coombetracey, and if i can see this mrs. laura lyons,

of equivocal reputation, a long step willhave been made towards clearing one incident in this chain of mysteries. i am certainlydeveloping the wisdom of the serpent, for when mortimer pressed his questions to aninconvenient extent i asked him casually to what type frankland's skull belonged, andso heard nothing but craniology for the rest of our drive. i have not lived for years withsherlock holmes for nothing. i have only one other incident to record uponthis tempestuous and melancholy day. this was my conversation with barrymore just now,which gives me one more strong card which i can play in due time. mortimer had stayed to dinner, and he andthe baronet played ecarte afterwards. the

butler brought me my coffee into the library,and i took the chance to ask him a few questions. "well," said i, "has this precious relationof yours departed, or is he still lurking out yonder?" "i don't know, sir. i hope to heaven thathe has gone, for he has brought nothing but trouble here! i've not heard of him sincei left out food for him last, and that was three days ago." "did you see him then?" "no, sir, but the food was gone when nexti went that way." "then he was certainly there?"

"so you would think, sir, unless it was theother man who took it." i sat with my coffee-cup halfway to my lipsand 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 ormore. he's in hiding, too, but he's not a convict as far as i can make out. i don'tlike it, dr. watson—i tell you straight,

sir, that i don't like it." he spoke witha sudden passion of earnestness. "now, listen to me, barrymore! i have no interestin this matter but that of your master. i have come here with no object except to helphim. tell me, frankly, what it is that you don't like." barrymore hesitated for a moment, as if heregretted his outburst or found it difficult to express his own feelings in words. "it's all these goings-on, sir," he criedat last, waving his hand towards the rain-lashed window which faced the moor. "there's foulplay somewhere, and there's black villainy brewing, to that i'll swear! very glad i shouldbe, sir, to see sir henry on his way back

to london again!" "but what is it that alarms you?" "look at sir charles's death! that was badenough, for all that the coroner said. look at the noises on the moor at night. there'snot a man would cross it after sundown if he was paid for it. look at this strangerhiding out yonder, and watching and waiting! what's he waiting for? what does it mean?it means no good to anyone of the name of baskerville, and very glad i shall be to bequit of it all on the day that sir henry's new servants are ready to take over the hall." "but about this stranger," said i. "can youtell me anything about him? what did selden

say? did he find out where he hid, or whathe was doing?" "he saw him once or twice, but he is a deepone and gives nothing away. at first he thought that he was the police, but soon he foundthat he had some lay of his own. a kind of gentleman he was, as far as he could see,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—thestone huts where the old folk used to live." "but how about his food?" "selden found out that he has got a lad whoworks for him and brings all he needs. i dare say he goes to coombe tracey for what he wants."

"very good, barrymore. we may talk furtherof this some other time." when the butler had gone i walked over to the black window,and i looked through 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 it be in a stone hutupon the moor. what passion of hatred can it be which leads a man to lurk in such aplace at such a time! and what deep and earnest purpose can he have which calls for such atrial! there, in that hut 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 passed before i have doneall that man can do to reach the heart of the mystery.

chapter 11. the man on the tor the extract from my private diary which formsthe last chapter has brought my narrative up to the eighteenth of october, a time whenthese strange events began to move swiftly towards their terrible conclusion. the incidentsof the next few days are indelibly graven upon my recollection, and i can tell themwithout reference to the notes made at the time. i start them from the day which succeededthat upon which i had established two facts of great importance, the one that mrs. lauralyons of coombe tracey had written to sir charles baskerville and made an appointmentwith him at the very place and hour that he met his death, the other that the lurkingman upon the moor was to be found among the

stone huts upon the hillside. with these twofacts in my possession i felt that either my intelligence or my courage must be deficientif i could not throw some further light upon these dark places. i had no opportunity to tell the baronet whati had learned about mrs. lyons upon the evening before, for dr. mortimer remained with himat cards until it was very late. at breakfast, however, i informed him about my discoveryand asked him whether he would care to accompany me to coombe tracey. at first he was veryeager to come, but on second thoughts it seemed to both of us that if i went alone the resultsmight be better. the more formal we made the visit the less information we might obtain.i left sir henry behind, therefore, not without

some prickings of conscience, and drove offupon my new quest. when i reached coombe tracey i told perkinsto put up the horses, and i made inquiries for the lady whom i had come to interrogate.i had no difficulty in finding her rooms, which were central and well appointed. a maidshowed me in without ceremony, and as i entered the sitting-room a lady, who was sitting beforea remington typewriter, sprang up with a pleasant smile of welcome. her face fell, however,when she saw that i was a stranger, and she sat down again and asked me the object ofmy visit. the first impression left by mrs. lyons wasone of extreme beauty. her eyes and hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and her cheeks,though considerably freckled, were flushed

with the exquisite bloom of the brunette,the dainty pink which lurks at the heart of the sulphur rose. admiration was, i repeat,the first impression. but the second was criticism. there was something subtly wrong with theface, some coarseness of expression, some hardness, perhaps, of eye, some loosenessof lip which marred its perfect beauty. but these, of course, are afterthoughts. at themoment i was simply conscious that i was in the presence of a very handsome woman, andthat she was asking me the reasons for my visit. i had not quite understood until thatinstant how delicate my mission was. "i have the pleasure," said i, "of knowingyour father." it was a clumsy introduction, and the ladymade me feel it. "there is nothing in common

between my father and me," she said. "i owehim nothing, and his friends are not mine. if it were not for the late sir charles baskervilleand some other kind hearts i might have starved for all that my father cared." "it was about the late sir charles baskervillethat i have come here to see you." the freckles started out on the lady's face. "what can i tell you about him?" she asked,and her fingers played nervously over the stops of her typewriter. "you knew him, did you not?" "i have already said that i owe a great dealto his kindness. if i am able to support myself

it is largely due to the interest which hetook in my unhappy situation." "did you correspond with him?" the lady looked quickly up with an angry gleamin her hazel eyes. "what is the object of these questions?" sheasked sharply. "the object is to avoid a public scandal.it is better that i should ask them here than that the matter should pass outside our control." she was silent and her face was still verypale. at last she looked up with something reckless and defiant in her manner. "well, i'll answer," she said. "what are yourquestions?"

"did you correspond with sir charles?" "i certainly wrote to him once or twice toacknowledge his delicacy and his generosity." "have you the dates of those letters?" "have you ever met him?" "yes, once or twice, when he came into coombetracey. he was a very retiring man, and he preferred to do good by stealth." "but if you saw him so seldom and wrote soseldom, how did he know enough about your affairs to be able to help you, as you saythat he has done?" she met my difficulty with the utmost readiness.

"there were several gentlemen who knew mysad history and united to help me. one was mr. stapleton, a neighbour and intimate friendof sir charles's. he was exceedingly kind, and it was through him that sir charles learnedabout my affairs." i knew already that sir charles baskervillehad made stapleton his almoner upon several occasions, so the lady's statement bore theimpress of truth upon it. "did you ever write to sir charles askinghim to meet you?" i continued. mrs. lyons flushed with anger again. "really,sir, this is a very extraordinary 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 deathlyface was before me. her dry lips could not speak the "no" which i saw rather than heard. "surely your memory deceives you," said i."i could even quote a passage of your letter. it ran 'please, please, as you are a gentleman,burn this letter, and be at the gate by ten o'clock.'" i thought that she had fainted, but she recoveredherself by a supreme effort. "is there no such thing as a gentleman?" shegasped. "you do sir charles an injustice. he did burnthe letter. but sometimes a letter may be

legible even when burned. you acknowledgenow that you wrote it?" "yes, i did write it," she cried, pouringout her soul in a torrent of words. "i did write it. why should i deny it? i have noreason to be ashamed of it. i wished him to help me. i believed that if i had an interviewi 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 wasgoing to london next day and might be away for months. there were reasons why i couldnot get there earlier." "but why a rendezvous in the garden insteadof a visit to the house?"

"do you think a woman could go alone at thathour to a bachelor's house?" "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. something intervened to prevent my going." "what was that?" "that is a private matter. i cannot tell it." "you acknowledge then that you made an appointmentwith sir charles at the very hour and place

at which he met his death, but you deny thatyou kept the appointment." "that is the truth." again and again i cross-questioned her, buti could never get past that point. "mrs. lyons," said i as i rose from this longand inconclusive interview, "you are taking a very great responsibility and putting yourselfin a very false position by not making an absolutely clean breast of all that you know.if i have to call in the aid of the police you will find how seriously you are compromised.if your position is innocent, why did you in the first instance deny having writtento sir charles upon that date?" "because i feared that some false conclusionmight be drawn from it and that i might find

myself involved in a scandal." "and why were you so pressing that sir charlesshould destroy your letter?" "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 it was not all legible. i ask you once again why it was thatyou were so pressing that sir charles should destroy this letter which he received on theday of his death." "the matter is a very private one."

"the more reason why you should avoid a publicinvestigation." "i will tell you, then. if you have heardanything of my unhappy history you will know that i made a rash marriage and had reasonto regret it." "i have heard so much." "my life has been one incessant persecutionfrom a husband whom i abhor. the law is upon his side, and every day i am faced by thepossibility that he may force me to live with him. at the time that i wrote this letterto sir charles i had learned that there was a prospect of my regaining my freedom if certainexpenses could be met. it meant everything to me—peace of mind, happiness, self-respect—everything.i knew sir charles's generosity, and i thought

that if he heard the story from my own lipshe would help me." "then how is it that you did not go?" "because i received help in the interval fromanother source." "why then, did you not write to sir charlesand explain this?" "so i should have done had i not seen hisdeath in the paper next morning." the woman's story hung coherently together,and all my questions were unable to shake it. i could only check it by finding if shehad, indeed, instituted divorce proceedings against her husband at or about the time ofthe tragedy. it was unlikely that she would dare to saythat she had not been to baskerville hall

if she really had been, for a trap would benecessary to take her there, and could not have returned to coombe tracey until the earlyhours of the morning. such an excursion could not be kept secret. the probability was, therefore,that she was telling the truth, or, at least, a part of the truth. i came away baffled anddisheartened. 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 yet the more i thoughtof the lady's face and of her manner the more i felt that something was being held backfrom me. why should she turn so pale? why should she fight against every admission untilit was forced from her? 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 she would have me believe.for the moment i could proceed no farther in that direction, but must turn back to thatother clue which was to be sought for among the stone huts upon the moor. and that was a most vague direction. i realizedit as i drove back and noted how hill after hill showed traces of the ancient people.barrymore's only indication had been that the stranger lived in one of these abandonedhuts, and many hundreds of them are scattered throughout the length and breadth of the moor.but i had my own experience for a guide since it had shown me the man himself standing uponthe summit of the black tor. that, then, should be the centre of my search. from there i shouldexplore every hut upon the moor until i lighted

upon the right one. if this man were insideit i should find out from his own lips, at the point of my revolver if necessary, whohe was and why he had dogged us so long. he might slip away from us in the crowd of regentstreet, but it would puzzle him to do so upon the lonely moor. on the other hand, if i shouldfind the hut and its tenant should not be within it i must remain there, however longthe vigil, until he returned. holmes had missed him in london. it would indeed be a triumphfor me if i could run him to earth where my master had failed. luck had been against us again and again inthis inquiry, but now at last it came to my aid. and the messenger of good fortune wasnone other than mr. frankland, who was standing,

gray-whiskered and red-faced, outside thegate of his garden, which opened on to the highroad along which i travelled. "good-day, dr. watson," cried he with unwontedgood humour, "you must really give your horses a rest and come in to have a glass of wineand to congratulate me." my feelings towards him were very far frombeing friendly after what i had heard of his treatment of his daughter, but i was anxiousto send perkins and the wagonette home, and the opportunity was a good one. i alightedand sent a message to sir henry that i should walk over in time for dinner. then i followedfrankland into his dining-room. "it is a great day for me, sir—one of thered-letter days of my life," he cried with

many chuckles. "i have brought off a doubleevent. i mean to teach them in these parts that law is law, and that there is a man herewho does not fear to invoke it. i have established a right of way through the centre of old middleton'spark, slap across it, sir, within a hundred yards of his own front door. what do you thinkof that? we'll teach these magnates that they cannot ride roughshod over the rights of thecommoners, confound them! and i've closed the wood where the fernworthy folk used topicnic. these infernal people seem to think that there are no rights of property, andthat they can swarm where they like with their papers and their bottles. both cases decided,dr. watson, and both 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 repayreading—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 ihad no interest in the matter. i act entirely from a sense of public duty. i have no doubt,for example, that the fernworthy people will burn me in effigy tonight. i told the policelast time they did it that they should stop these disgraceful exhibitions. the countyconstabulary is in a scandalous state, sir, and it has not afforded me the protectionto which i am entitled. the case of frankland

v. regina will bring the matter before theattention of the public. i told them that they would have occasion to regret their treatmentof 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 them what they are dying to know; but nothing would induce me to helpthe rascals in any way." i had been casting round for some excuse bywhich i could get away from his gossip, but now i began to wish to hear more of it. ihad seen enough of the contrary nature of the old sinner to understand that any strongsign of interest would be the surest way to stop his confidences.

"some poaching case, no doubt?" said i withan indifferent manner. "ha, ha, my boy, a very much more importantmatter than that! what about the convict on the moor?" i stared. "you don't mean that you know wherehe is?" said i. "i may not know exactly where he is, but iam quite sure that i could help the police to lay their hands on him. has it never struckyou that the way to catch that man was to find out where he got his food and so traceit to him?" he certainly seemed to be getting uncomfortablynear the truth. "no doubt," said i; "but how do you know that he is anywhere upon the moor?"

"i know it because i have seen with my owneyes the messenger who takes him his food." my heart sank for barrymore. it was a seriousthing to be in the power of this spiteful old busybody. but his next remark took a weightfrom my mind. "you'll be surprised to hear that his foodis taken to him by a child. i see him every day through my telescope upon the roof. hepasses along the same path at the same hour, and to whom should he be going except to theconvict?" here was luck indeed! and yet i suppressedall appearance of interest. a child! barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied bya boy. it was on his track, and not upon the convict's, that frankland had stumbled. ifi could get his knowledge it might save me

a long and weary hunt. but incredulity andindifference were evidently my strongest cards. "i should say that it was much more likelythat it was the son of one of the moorland shepherds taking out his father's dinner." the least appearance of opposition struckfire out of the old autocrat. his eyes looked malignantly at me, and his gray whiskers bristledlike those of an angry cat. "indeed, sir!" said he, pointing out overthe wide-stretching moor. "do you see that black tor over yonder? well, do you see thelow hill beyond with 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 withoutknowing all the facts. my submission pleased him and led him to further confidences. "you may be sure, sir, that i have very goodgrounds before i come to an opinion. i have seen the boy again and again with his bundle.every day, 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 moment something moving upon thathillside?" it was several miles off, but i could distinctlysee a small dark dot against the dull green and gray. "come, sir, come!" cried frankland, rushingupstairs. "you will see with your own eyes

and judge for yourself." the telescope, a formidable instrument mountedupon a tripod, stood upon the flat leads of the house. frankland clapped his eye to itand gave a cry of satisfaction. "quick, dr. watson, quick, before he passesover the hill!" there he was, sure enough, a small urchinwith a little bundle upon his shoulder, toiling slowly up the hill. when he reached the cresti saw the ragged uncouth figure outlined for an instant against the cold blue sky. he lookedround him with a furtive and stealthy air, as one who dreads pursuit. then he vanishedover the hill. "well! am i right?"

"certainly, there is a boy who seems to havesome secret errand." "and what the errand is even a county constablecould guess. but not one 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 in frankland v. regina i venture to think that a thrill of indignationwill run through the country. nothing would induce me to help the police in any way. forall they cared it might have been me, instead of my effigy, which these rascals burned atthe stake. surely you are not going! you will help me to empty the decanter in honour ofthis great occasion!"

but i resisted all his solicitations and succeededin dissuading him from his announced intention of walking home with me. i kept the road aslong as his eye was on me, and then i struck off across the moor and made for the stonyhill over which the boy had disappeared. everything was working in my favour, and i swore thatit should not be through lack of energy or perseverance that i should miss the chancewhich fortune had thrown in my way. the sun was already sinking when i reachedthe summit of the hill, and the long slopes beneath me were all golden-green on one sideand gray shadow on the other. a haze lay low upon the farthest sky-line, out of which juttedthe fantastic shapes of belliver and vixen tor. over the wide expanse there was no soundand no movement. one great gray bird, a gull

or curlew, soared aloft in the blue heaven.he and i seemed to be the only living things between the huge arch of the sky and the desertbeneath it. the barren scene, the sense of loneliness, and the mystery and urgency ofmy task all struck a chill into my heart. the boy was nowhere to be seen. but down beneathme in a cleft of the hills there was a circle of the old stone huts, and in the middle ofthem there was one which retained sufficient roof to act as a screen against the weather.my heart leaped within me as i saw it. this must be the burrow where the stranger lurked.at last my foot was on the threshold of his hiding place—his secret was within my grasp. as i approached the hut, walking as warilyas stapleton would do when with poised net

he drew near the settled butterfly, i satisfiedmyself that the place had indeed been used as a habitation. a vague pathway among theboulders led to the dilapidated opening which served as a door. all was silent within. theunknown might be lurking there, or he might be prowling on the moor. my nerves tingledwith the sense of adventure. throwing aside my cigarette, i closed my hand upon the buttof my revolver and, walking swiftly up to the door, i looked in. the place was empty. but there were ample signs that i had notcome upon a false scent. this was certainly where the man lived. some blankets rolledin a waterproof lay upon that very stone slab upon which neolithic man had once slumbered.the ashes of a fire were heaped in a rude

grate. beside it lay some cooking utensilsand a bucket half-full of water. a litter of empty tins showed that the place had beenoccupied for some time, and i saw, as my eyes became accustomed to the checkered light,a pannikin and a half-full bottle of spirits standing in the corner. in the middle of thehut a flat stone served the purpose of a table, and upon this stood a small cloth bundle—thesame, no doubt, which i had seen through the telescope upon the shoulder of the boy. itcontained a loaf of bread, a tinned tongue, and two tins of preserved peaches. as i setit down again, after having examined it, my heart leaped to see that beneath it therelay a sheet of paper with writing upon it. i raised it, and this was what i read, roughlyscrawled in pencil: "dr. watson has gone to

coombe tracey." for a minute i stood there with the paperin my hands thinking out the meaning of this curt message. it was i, then, and not sirhenry, who was being dogged by this secret man. he had not followed me himself, but hehad set an agent—the boy, perhaps—upon my track, and this was his report. possiblyi had taken no step since i had been upon the moor which had not been observed and reported.always there was this feeling of an unseen force, a fine net drawn round us with infiniteskill and delicacy, holding us so lightly that it was only at some supreme moment thatone realized that one was indeed entangled in its meshes.

if there was one report there might be others,so i looked round the hut in search of them. there was no trace, however, of anything ofthe kind, nor could i discover any sign which might indicate the character or intentionsof the man who lived in this singular place, save that he must be of spartan habits andcared little for the comforts of life. when i thought of the heavy rains and looked atthe gaping roof i understood how strong and immutable must be the purpose which had kepthim in that inhospitable abode. was he our malignant enemy, or was he by chance our guardianangel? i swore that i would not leave the hut until i knew. outside the sun was sinking low and the westwas blazing with scarlet and gold. its reflection

was shot back in ruddy patches by the distantpools which lay amid the great grimpen mire. there were the two towers of baskerville hall,and there a distant blur of smoke which marked the village of grimpen. between the two, behindthe hill, was the house of the stapletons. all was sweet and mellow and peaceful in thegolden evening light, and yet as i looked at them my soul shared none of the peace ofnature but quivered at the vagueness and the terror of that interview which every instantwas bringing nearer. with tingling nerves but a fixed purpose, i sat in the dark recessof the hut and waited with sombre patience for the coming of its tenant. and then at last i heard him. far away camethe sharp clink of a boot striking upon a

stone. then another and yet another, comingnearer and nearer. i shrank back into the darkest corner and cocked the pistol in mypocket, determined not to discover myself until i had an opportunity of seeing somethingof the stranger. there was a long pause which showed that he had stopped. then once morethe footsteps approached and a shadow fell across the opening of the hut. "it is a lovely evening, my dear watson,"said a well-known voice. "i really think that you will be more comfortable outside thanin." chapter 12. death on the moor for a moment or two i sat breathless, hardlyable to believe my ears. then my senses and

my voice came back to me, while a crushingweight of responsibility seemed in an instant to be lifted from my soul. that cold, incisive,ironical voice could belong to but one man in all the world. "holmes!" i cried—"holmes!" "come out," said he, "and please be carefulwith the revolver." i stooped under the rude lintel, and therehe sat upon a stone outside, his gray eyes dancing with amusement as they fell upon myastonished features. he was thin and worn, but clear and alert, his keen face bronzedby the sun and roughened by the wind. in his tweed suit and cloth cap he looked like anyother tourist upon the moor, and he had contrived,

with that catlike love of personal cleanlinesswhich was one of 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 mylife," said i as i wrung him by the hand. "or more astonished, eh?" "well, i must confess to it." "the surprise was not all on one side, i assureyou. i had no idea that you 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 undertaketo recognize your footprint amid all the footprints

of the world. if you seriously desire to deceiveme you must change your tobacconist; for when i see the stub of a cigarette marked bradley,oxford street, i know that my friend watson is in the neighbourhood. you will see it therebeside the path. you threw it down, no doubt, at that supreme moment when you charged intothe empty hut." "i thought as much—and knowing your admirabletenacity i was convinced that you were sitting in ambush, a weapon within reach, waitingfor the tenant to return. so you actually thought that i was the criminal?" "i did not know who you were, but i was determinedto find out." "excellent, watson! and how did you localizeme? you saw me, perhaps, on the night of the

convict hunt, when i was so imprudent as toallow the moon to rise behind me?" "yes, i saw you then." "and have no doubt searched all the huts untilyou came to this one?" "no, your boy had been observed, and thatgave me a guide where to look." "the old gentleman with the telescope, nodoubt. i could not make it out when first i saw the light flashing upon the lens." herose and peeped into the hut. "ha, i see that cartwright has brought up some supplies. what'sthis paper? so you have been to coombe tracey, have you?" "to see mrs. laura lyons?"

"well done! our researches have evidentlybeen running on parallel lines, and when we unite our results i expect we shall have afairly full knowledge of the case." "well, i am glad from my heart that you arehere, for indeed the responsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for mynerves. but how in the name of wonder did you come here, and what have you been doing?i thought that you were in baker street working out that case of blackmailing." "that was what i wished you to think." "then you use me, and yet do not trust me!"i cried with some bitterness. "i think that i have deserved better at your hands, holmes."

"my dear fellow, you have been invaluableto me in this as in many other cases, and i beg that you will forgive me if i have seemedto play a trick upon you. in truth, it was partly for your own sake that i did it, andit was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come down and examinethe matter for myself. had i been with sir henry and you it is confident that my pointof view would have been the same as yours, and my presence would have warned our veryformidable opponents to be on their guard. as it is, i have been able to get about asi could not possibly have done had i been living in the hall, and i remain an unknownfactor in the business, ready to throw in all my weight at a critical moment."

"but why keep me in the dark?" "for you to know could not have helped usand might possibly have led to my discovery. you would have wished to tell me something,or in your kindness you would have brought me out some comfort or other, and so an unnecessaryrisk would be run. i brought cartwright down with me—you remember the little chap atthe express office—and he has seen after my simple wants: a loaf of bread and a cleancollar. what does man want more? he has given me an extra pair of eyes upon a very activepair of feet, and both have been invaluable." "then my reports have all been wasted!"—myvoice trembled as i recalled the 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, andvery well thumbed, i assure you. i made excellent arrangements, and they are only delayed oneday upon their way. i must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal and the intelligencewhich you have shown over an extraordinarily difficult case." i was still rather raw over the deceptionwhich had been practised upon me, but the warmth of holmes's praise drove my anger frommy mind. i felt also in my heart that he was right in what he said and that it was reallybest for our purpose that i should not have known that he was upon the moor.

"that's better," said he, seeing the shadowrise from my face. "and now tell me the result of your visit to mrs. laura lyons—it wasnot difficult for me to guess that it was to see her that you had gone, for i am alreadyaware that she is the one person in coombe tracey who might be of service to us in thematter. in fact, if you had not gone today it is exceedingly probable that i should havegone tomorrow." the sun had set and dusk was settling overthe moor. the air had turned chill and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. there, sittingtogether in the twilight, i told holmes of my conversation with the lady. so interestedwas he that i had to repeat some of it twice before he was satisfied.

"this is most important," said he when i hadconcluded. "it fills up a gap which i had been unable to bridge in this most complexaffair. you are aware, perhaps, that a close intimacy exists between this lady and theman stapleton?" "i did not know of a close intimacy." "there can be no doubt about the matter. theymeet, they write, there is 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, inreturn for all that you have given me. the

lady who has passed here as miss stapletonis in reality his wife." "good heavens, holmes! are you sure of whatyou say? how could he have permitted sir henry to fall in love with her?" "sir henry's falling in love could do no harmto anyone except sir henry. 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 and not his sister." "but why this elaborate deception?" "because he foresaw that she would be verymuch more useful to him in the character of a free woman."

all my unspoken instincts, my vague suspicions,suddenly took shape and centred upon the naturalist. in that impassive colourless man, with hisstraw hat and his butterfly-net, i seemed to see something terrible—a creature ofinfinite patience and craft, with a smiling face and a murderous heart. "it is he, then, who is our enemy—it ishe who dogged us in london?" "so i read the riddle." "and the warning—it must have come fromher!" the shape of some monstrous villainy, halfseen, half guessed, loomed through the darkness which had girt me so long.

"but are you sure of this, holmes? how doyou know that the woman is his wife?" "because he so far forgot himself as to tellyou a true piece of autobiography upon the occasion when he first met you, and i daresay he has many a time regretted it since. he was once a schoolmaster in the north ofengland. now, there is no one more easy to trace than a schoolmaster. there are scholasticagencies by which one may identify any man who has been in the profession. a little investigationshowed me that a school had come to grief under atrocious circumstances, and that theman who had owned it—the name was different—had disappeared with his wife. the descriptionsagreed. when i learned that the missing man was devoted to entomology the identificationwas complete."

the darkness was rising, but much was stillhidden by the shadows. "if this woman is in truth his wife, wheredoes mrs. laura lyons come in?" i asked. "that is one of the points upon which yourown researches have shed a light. your interview with the lady has cleared the situation verymuch. i did not know about a projected divorce between herself and her husband. in that case,regarding stapleton as an unmarried man, she counted 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 duty to see her—both of us—tomorrow. don't you think, watson,that you are away from your charge rather

long? your place should be at baskervillehall." the last red streaks had faded away in thewest and night had settled upon the moor. a few faint stars were gleaming in a violetsky. "one last question, holmes," i said as i rose."surely there is no need of secrecy between you and me. what is the meaning of it all?what is he after?" holmes's voice sank as he answered: "it is murder, watson—refined, cold-blooded,deliberate murder. do not ask me for particulars. my nets are closing upon him, even as hisare upon sir henry, and with your help he is already almost at my mercy. there is butone danger which can threaten us. it is that

he should strike before we are ready to doso. another day—two at the most—and i have my case complete, but until then guardyour charge as closely as ever a fond mother watched her ailing child. your mission todayhas justified itself, and yet i could almost wish that you had not left his side. hark!" a terrible scream—a prolonged yell of horrorand anguish—burst out of the silence of the moor. that frightful cry turned the bloodto ice in my veins. "oh, my god!" i gasped. "what is it? whatdoes it mean?" holmes had sprung to his feet, and i saw hisdark, athletic outline at the door of the hut, his shoulders stooping, his head thrustforward, his face peering into the darkness.

"hush!" he whispered. "hush!" the cry had been loud on account of its vehemence,but it had pealed out from somewhere far off on the shadowy plain. now it burst upon ourears, nearer, louder, more urgent than before. "where is it?" holmes whispered; and i knewfrom the thrill of his voice that he, the man of iron, was shaken to the soul. "whereis it, watson?" "there, i think." i pointed into the darkness. "no, there!" again the agonized cry swept through the silentnight, louder and much nearer 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 thesea. "the hound!" cried holmes. "come, watson,come! great heavens, if we are too late!" he had started running swiftly over the moor,and i had followed at his heels. but now from somewhere among the broken ground immediatelyin front of us there came one last despairing yell, and then a dull, heavy thud. we haltedand listened. not another sound broke the heavy silence of the windless night. i saw holmes put his hand to his foreheadlike a man distracted. he stamped 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 of abandoning your charge! but, by heaven, if the worst has happenedwe'll avenge him!" blindly we ran through the gloom, blunderingagainst boulders, forcing our way through gorse bushes, panting up hills and rushingdown slopes, heading always in the direction whence those dreadful sounds had come. atevery rise holmes looked eagerly round him, but the shadows were thick 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. thereit was again upon our left! on that side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliff whichoverlooked a stone-strewn slope. on its jagged face was spread-eagled some dark, irregularobject. as we ran towards it the vague outline hardened into a definite shape. it was a prostrateman face downward upon the ground, the head doubled under him at a horrible angle, theshoulders rounded and 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 realize that that moanhad been the passing of his soul. not a whisper, not a rustle, rose now from the dark figureover which we stooped. holmes laid his hand

upon him and held it up again with an exclamationof horror. the gleam of the match which he struck shone upon his clotted fingers andupon the ghastly pool which widened slowly from the crushed skull of the victim. andit shone upon something else which turned our hearts sick and faint within us—thebody of sir henry baskerville! there was no chance of either of us forgettingthat peculiar ruddy tweed suit—the very one which he had worn on the first morningthat we had seen him in baker street. we caught the one clear glimpse of it, and then thematch flickered and went out, even as the hope had gone out of our souls. holmes groaned,and his face glimmered white through the darkness. "the brute! the brute!" i cried with clenchedhands. "oh holmes, i shall never forgive myself

for having left him to his fate." "i am more to blame than you, watson. in orderto have my case well rounded and complete, i have thrown away the life of my client.it is the greatest blow which has befallen me in my career. but how could i know—howcould i know—that he would risk his life alone upon the moor in the face of all mywarnings?" "that we should have heard his screams—mygod, those screams!—and yet have been unable to save him! where is this brute of a houndwhich drove him 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 nephewhave been murdered—the one frightened to

death by the very sight of a beast which hethought to be supernatural, the other driven to his end in his wild flight to escape fromit. but now we have to prove the connection between the man and the beast. save from whatwe heard, we cannot even swear to the existence of the latter, since sir henry has evidentlydied from the fall. 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 sideof 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 moon rose we climbed tothe top of the rocks over which our poor friend had fallen, and from the summit we gazed outover the shadowy moor, half silver and half

gloom. far away, miles off, in the directionof grimpen, a single steady yellow light was shining. it could only come from the lonelyabode of the stapletons. with a bitter curse i shook my fist at it as i gazed. "why should we not seize him at once?" "our case is not complete. the fellow is waryand cunning to the last degree. it is not what we know, but what we can prove. if wemake one false move the villain may escape us yet." "what can we do?" "there will be plenty for us to do tomorrow.tonight we can only perform the last offices

to our poor friend." together we made our way down the precipitousslope and approached the body, black and clear against the silvered stones. the agony ofthose contorted limbs struck me with a spasm of pain and blurred my eyes with tears. "we must send for help, holmes! we cannotcarry him all the way to the hall. good heavens, are you mad?" he had uttered a cry and bent over the body.now he was dancing and laughing 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 ismy neighbour, the convict!" with feverish haste we had turned the bodyover, and that dripping beard was pointing up to the cold, clear moon. there could beno doubt about the beetling forehead, the sunken animal eyes. it was indeed the sameface which had glared upon me in the light of the candle from over the rock—the faceof selden, the criminal. then in an instant it was all clear to me.i remembered how the baronet had told me that he had handed his old wardrobe to barrymore.barrymore had passed it on in order to help selden in his escape. boots, shirt, cap—itwas all sir henry's. the tragedy was still

black enough, but this man had at least deserveddeath by the laws of his country. i told holmes how the matter stood, my heart bubbling overwith thankfulness and joy. "then the clothes have been the poor devil'sdeath," said he. "it is clear enough that the hound has been laid on from some articleof sir henry's—the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in all probability—and soran this man down. there is one very singular thing, however: how came selden, in the darkness,to know that the hound was on his trail?" "he heard him." "to hear a hound upon the moor would not worka hard man like this convict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recapture byscreaming wildly for help. by his cries he

must have run a long way after he knew theanimal was on his track. how did he know?" "a greater mystery to me is why this hound,presuming that all our conjectures are correct—" "i presume nothing." "well, then, why this hound should be loosetonight. i suppose that it does not always run loose upon the moor. stapleton would notlet it go unless he had reason to think that sir henry would be there." "my difficulty is the more formidable of thetwo, for i think that we shall very shortly get an explanation of yours, while mine mayremain forever a mystery. the question now is, what shall we do with this poor wretch'sbody? we cannot leave it here to the foxes

and the ravens." "i suggest that we put it in one of the hutsuntil we can communicate with the police." "exactly. i have no doubt that you and i couldcarry it so far. halloa, watson, what's this? it's the man himself, by all that's wonderfuland audacious! not a word to show your suspicions—not a word, or my plans crumble to the ground." a figure was approaching us over the moor,and i saw the dull red glow of a cigar. the moon shone upon him, and i could distinguishthe dapper shape and jaunty walk of the naturalist. he stopped when he saw us, and then came onagain. "why, dr. watson, that's not you, is it? youare the last man that i should 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 our friendsir henry!" he hurried past me and stooped over the dead man. i heard a sharp intakeof 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, butby a supreme effort he had overcome his amazement and his disappointment. he looked sharplyfrom holmes to me. "dear me! what a very shocking affair! how did he die?"

"he appears to have broken his neck by fallingover these rocks. my friend and i were strolling on the moor when we heard a cry." "i heard a cry also. that was what broughtme out. i was uneasy about sir henry." "why about sir henry in particular?" i couldnot help asking. "because i had suggested that he should comeover. when he did not come i was surprised, and i naturally became alarmed for his safetywhen i heard cries upon the moor. by the way"—his eyes darted again from my face to holmes's—"didyou hear anything else besides a cry?" "no," said holmes; "did you?" "what do you mean, then?"

"oh, you know the stories that the peasantstell about a phantom hound, and so on. it is said to be heard at night upon the moor.i was wondering 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'sdeath?" "i have no doubt that anxiety and exposurehave driven him off his head. he has rushed about the moor in a crazy state and eventuallyfallen over here and broken his neck." "that seems the most reasonable theory," saidstapleton, and he gave a sigh which i took to indicate his relief. "what do you thinkabout it, mr. sherlock holmes?"

my friend bowed his compliments. "you arequick at identification," said he. "we have been expecting you in these partssince dr. watson came down. you are in time to see a tragedy." "yes, indeed. i have no doubt that my friend'sexplanation will cover the facts. i will take an unpleasant remembrance back to london withme tomorrow." "oh, you return tomorrow?" "that is my intention." "i hope your visit has cast some light uponthose occurrences which have puzzled us?" holmes shrugged his shoulders.

"one cannot always have the success for whichone hopes. an investigator needs facts and not legends or rumours. it has not been asatisfactory case." my friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcernedmanner. stapleton still looked hard at him. then he turned to me. "i would suggest carrying this poor fellowto my house, but it would give my sister such a fright that i do not feel justified in doingit. i think that if we put something over his face he will be safe until morning." and so it was arranged. resisting stapleton'soffer of hospitality, holmes and i set off to baskerville hall, leaving the naturalistto return alone. looking back we saw the figure

moving slowly away over the broad moor, andbehind him that one black smudge on the silvered slope which showed where the man was lyingwho had come so horribly to his end. chapter 13. fixing the nets "we're at close grips at last," said holmesas we walked together across the moor. "what a nerve the fellow has! how he pulled himselftogether in the face of what must have been a paralyzing shock when he found that thewrong man had fallen a victim to his plot. i told you in london, watson, and i tell younow again, that we have never had a foeman more worthy of our steel." "i am sorry that he has seen you."

"and so was i at first. but there was no gettingout of it." "what effect do you think it will have uponhis plans now that he knows you are here?" "it may cause him to be more cautious, orit may drive him to desperate measures at once. like most clever criminals, he may betoo confident in his 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 manof action. your instinct is always to do something energetic. but supposing, for argument's sake,that we had him arrested tonight, what on earth the better off should we be for that?we could prove nothing against him. there's

the devilish cunning of it! if he were actingthrough a human agent we could get some evidence, but if we were to drag this great dog to thelight of day it would 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 laughed out 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 andi know that he died of sheer fright, and we know also what frightened him, but how arewe to get twelve stolid jurymen to know it?

what signs are there of a hound? where arethe marks of its fangs? of course we know that a hound does not bite a dead body andthat sir charles was dead before ever the brute overtook him. but we have to prove allthis, and we are not in a position to do it." "well, then, tonight?" "we are not much better off tonight. again,there was no direct connection 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 this man's trail.there is a complete absence of motive. no, my dear fellow; we must reconcile ourselvesto the fact that we have no case at present, and that it is worth our while to run anyrisk in order to establish one."

"and how do you propose to do so?" "i have great hopes of what mrs. laura lyonsmay do for us when the position of affairs is made clear to her. and i have my own planas well. sufficient for tomorrow is the evil thereof; but i hope before the day is pastto have the upper hand at last." i could draw nothing further from him, andhe 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 a better nerve forthe ordeal which he will have to undergo tomorrow, when he is engaged, if i remember your reportaright, to dine with these people." "and so am i." "then you must excuse yourself and he mustgo alone. that will be easily arranged. and now, if we are too late for dinner, i thinkthat we are both ready for our suppers." sir henry was more pleased than surprisedto see sherlock holmes, for he had for some days been expecting that recent events wouldbring him down from london. he did raise his eyebrows, however, when he found that my friendhad neither any luggage nor any explanations for its absence. between us we soon suppliedhis wants, and then over a belated supper

we explained to the baronet as much of ourexperience as it seemed desirable that he should know. but first i had the unpleasantduty of breaking the news to barrymore and his wife. to him it may have been an unmitigatedrelief, but she wept bitterly in her apron. to all the world he was the man of violence,half animal and half demon; but to her he always remained the little wilful boy of herown girlhood, the child who had clung to her hand. evil indeed is the man who has not onewoman to mourn him. "i've been moping in the house all day sincewatson went off in the morning," said the baronet. "i guess i should have some credit,for i have kept my promise. if i hadn't sworn not to go about alone i might have had a morelively evening, for i had a message from stapleton

asking me over there." "i have no doubt that you would have had amore lively evening," said holmes drily. "by the way, i don't suppose you appreciate thatwe have been 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 who gave them to him may get into trouble with the police." "that is unlikely. there was no mark on anyof them, as far as i know." "that's lucky for him—in fact, it's luckyfor all of you, since you are all on the wrong

side of the law in this matter. i am not surethat as a conscientious detective my first duty is not to arrest the whole household.watson's reports are most incriminating documents." "but how about the case?" asked the baronet."have you made anything out of the tangle? i don't know that watson and i are much thewiser since we came down." "i think that i shall be in a position tomake the situation rather more clear to you before long. it has been an exceedingly difficultand most complicated business. there are several points upon which we still want light—butit is coming all the same." "we've had one experience, as watson has nodoubt told you. we heard the hound on the moor, so i can swear that it is not all emptysuperstition. i had something to do with dogs

when i was out west, and i know one when ihear one. if you can muzzle that one and put him on a chain i'll be ready to swear youare the greatest detective of all time." "i think i will muzzle him and chain him allright if you will give me your help." "whatever you tell me to do i will do." "very good; and i will ask you also to doit blindly, without always asking the reason." "just as you like." "if you will do this i think the chances arethat our little problem will soon be solved. i have no doubt—" he stopped suddenly and stared fixedly upover my head into the air. the lamp beat upon

his face, and so intent was it and so stillthat it might have been that of a clear-cut classical statue, a personification of alertnessand expectation. "what is it?" we both cried. i could see as he looked down that he wasrepressing some internal emotion. his features were still composed, but his eyes shone withamused exultation. "excuse the admiration of a connoisseur,"said he as he waved his hand towards the line of portraits which covered the opposite wall."watson won't allow that i know anything of art but that is mere jealousy because ourviews upon the subject differ. now, these are a really very fine series of portraits."

"well, i'm glad to hear you say so," saidsir henry, glancing with some surprise at my friend. "i don't pretend to know much aboutthese things, and i'd be a better judge of a horse or a steer than of a picture. i didn'tknow that you found time for such things." "i know what is good when i see it, and isee it now. that's a kneller, i'll swear, that lady in the blue silk over yonder, andthe stout gentleman with the wig ought to be a reynolds. they are all family portraits,i presume?" "every one." "do you know the names?" "barrymore has been coaching me in them, andi think i can say my lessons fairly well."

"who is the gentleman with the telescope?" "that is rear-admiral baskerville, who servedunder rodney in the west indies. the man with the blue coat and the roll of paper is sirwilliam baskerville, who was chairman of committees of the house of commons under pitt." "and this cavalier opposite to me—the onewith the black velvet and the lace?" "ah, you have a right to know about him. thatis the cause of all the mischief, the wicked hugo, who started the hound of the baskervilles.we're not likely to forget him." i gazed with interest and some surprise uponthe portrait. "dear me!" said holmes, "he seems a quiet,meek-mannered man enough, but i dare say that

there was a lurking devil in his eyes. i hadpictured him 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 ofthe old roysterer seemed to have a fascination for him, and his eyes were continually fixedupon it during supper. it was not until later, when sir henry had gone to his room, thati was able to follow the trend of his thoughts. he led me back into the banqueting-hall, hisbedroom candle in his hand, and he held it up against the time-stained portrait on thewall.

"do you see anything there?" i looked at the broad plumed hat, the curlinglove-locks, the white lace collar, and the straight, severe face which was framed betweenthem. it was not a brutal countenance, but it was prim, hard, and stern, with a firm-set,thin-lipped mouth, and a coldly intolerant eye. "is it like anyone you know?" "there is something of sir henry about thejaw." "just a suggestion, perhaps. but wait an instant!"he stood upon a chair, 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 thecanvas. "ha, you see it now. my eyes have been trainedto examine faces and not their trimmings. it is the first quality of a criminal investigatorthat he 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 be both physical and spiritual. a study of family portraits is enough to converta man to the doctrine of reincarnation. the fellow is a baskerville—that is evident."

"with designs upon the succession." "exactly. this chance of the picture has suppliedus with one of our most obvious missing links. we have him, watson, we have him, and i dareswear that before tomorrow night he will be fluttering in our net as helpless as one ofhis own butterflies. a pin, a cork, and a card, and we add him to the baker street collection!"he burst into one of his rare fits of laughter as he turned away from the picture. i havenot heard him laugh often, and it has always boded ill to somebody. i was up betimes in the morning, but holmeswas afoot earlier still, for i saw him as i dressed, coming up the drive.

"yes, we should have a full day today," heremarked, and he rubbed his hands with the joy of action. "the nets are all in place,and the drag is about to begin. we'll know before the day is out whether we have caughtour big, leanjawed pike, or whether he has got through the meshes." "have you been on the moor already?" "i have sent a report from grimpen to princetownas to the death of selden. i think i can promise that none of you will be troubled in the matter.and i have also communicated with my faithful cartwright, who would certainly have pinedaway at the door of my hut, as a dog does at his master's grave, if i had not set hismind 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 who is planning a battle with his chief of the staff." "that is the exact situation. watson was askingfor orders." "and so do i." "very good. you are engaged, as i understand,to dine with our friends the stapletons tonight." "i hope that you will come also. they arevery hospitable people, and i am 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 usefulthere at the present juncture." the baronet's face perceptibly lengthened. "i hoped that you were going to see me throughthis business. the hall and the moor are not very pleasant places when one is alone." "my dear fellow, you must trust me implicitlyand do exactly what i tell you. you can tell your friends that we should have been happyto have come with you, but that urgent business required us to be in town. we hope very soonto return to devonshire. will you remember

to give them that message?" "if you insist upon it." "there is no alternative, i assure you." i saw by the baronet's clouded brow that hewas deeply hurt by what he regarded as our desertion. "when do you desire to go?" he asked coldly. "immediately after breakfast. we will drivein to coombe tracey, but watson will leave his things as a pledge that he will come backto you. watson, you will send a note to stapleton to tell him that you regret that you cannotcome."

"i have a good mind to go to london with you,"said the baronet. "why should i stay here alone?" "because it is your post of duty. becauseyou gave me your word that you would 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 tomerripit house. send back your trap, however, and let them know that you intend to walkhome." "to walk across the moor?" "but that is the very thing which you haveso often cautioned me not to do."

"this time you may do it with safety. if ihad not every confidence in your nerve and courage i would not suggest it, but it isessential that you should do it." "then i will do it." "and as you value your life do not go acrossthe moor in any direction save 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 assoon after breakfast as possible, so as to reach london in the afternoon." i was much astounded by this programme, thoughi remembered that holmes had 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 to go with him, norcould i understand how we could both be absent at a moment which he himself declared to becritical. there was nothing for it, however, but implicit obedience; so we bade good-byeto our rueful friend, and a couple of hours afterwards we were at the station of coombetracey and had dispatched the trap upon its return journey. a small boy was waiting uponthe platform. "any orders, sir?" "you will take this train to town, cartwright.the moment you arrive you will send a wire to sir henry baskerville, in my name, to saythat if he finds the pocketbook which i have

dropped he is to send it by registered postto baker street." "and ask at the station office if there isa message for me." the boy returned with a telegram, which holmeshanded 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 the professionals, i think, and we may need his assistance. now, watson,i think that we cannot employ our time better than by calling upon your acquaintance, mrs.laura lyons." his plan of campaign was beginning to be evident.he would use the baronet in order to convince the stapletons that we were really gone, whilewe should actually return at the instant when

we were likely to be needed. that telegramfrom london, if mentioned by sir henry to the stapletons, must remove the last suspicionsfrom their minds. already i seemed to see our nets drawing closer around that leanjawedpike. mrs. laura lyons was in her office, and sherlockholmes opened his interview with a frankness and directness which considerably amazed her. "i am investigating the circumstances whichattended the death of the late sir charles baskerville," said he. "my friend here, dr.watson, has informed me of what you have communicated, and also of what you have withheld in connectionwith that matter." "what have i withheld?" she asked defiantly.

"you have confessed that you asked sir charlesto be at the gate at ten o'clock. we know that that was the place and hour of his death.you have withheld what the connection is between these events." "there is no connection." "in that case the coincidence must indeedbe an extraordinary one. but i think that we shall succeed in establishing a connection,after all. i wish to be perfectly frank with you, mrs. lyons. we regard this case as oneof murder, and the evidence may implicate not only your friend mr. stapleton but hiswife as well." the lady sprang from her chair.

"his wife!" she cried. "the fact is no longer a secret. the personwho has passed for his sister is really his wife." mrs. lyons had resumed her seat. her handswere grasping the arms of her chair, and i saw that the pink nails had turned white withthe pressure of her grip. "his wife!" she said again. "his wife! heis not a married man." sherlock holmes shrugged his shoulders. "prove it to me! prove it to me! and if youcan do so—!" the fierce flash of her eyes said more thanany words.

"i have come prepared to do so," said holmes,drawing several papers from his pocket. "here is a photograph of the couple taken in yorkfour years ago. it is indorsed 'mr. and mrs. vandeleur,' but you will have no difficultyin recognizing him, and her also, if you know her by sight. here are three written descriptionsby trustworthy witnesses of mr. and mrs. vandeleur, who at that time kept st. oliver's privateschool. read them and see if you can doubt the identity of these people." she glanced at them, and then looked up atus with the set, rigid face of a desperate woman. "mr. holmes," she said, "this man had offeredme marriage on condition that i could get

a divorce from my husband. he has lied tome, the villain, in every conceivable way. not one word of truth has he ever told me.and why—why? i imagined that all was for my own sake. but now i see that i was neveranything but a tool in his hands. why should i preserve faith with him who never kept anywith me? why should i try to shield him from the consequences of his own wicked acts? askme what you like, and there is nothing which i shall hold back. one thing i swear to you,and that is that when i wrote the letter i never dreamed of any harm to the old gentleman,who had been my kindest friend." "i entirely believe you, madam," said sherlockholmes. "the recital of these events must be very painful to you, and perhaps it willmake it easier if i tell you what occurred,

and you can check me if i make any materialmistake. the sending of this letter was suggested to you by stapleton?" "he dictated it." "i presume that the reason he gave was thatyou would receive help from sir charles for the legal expenses connected with your divorce?" "and then after you had sent the letter hedissuaded you from keeping the appointment?" "he told me that it would hurt his self-respectthat any other man should find the money for such an object, and that though he was a poorman himself he would devote his last penny to removing the obstacles which divided us."

"he appears to be a very consistent character.and then you heard nothing until you read the reports of the death in the paper?" "and he made you swear to say nothing aboutyour appointment with sir charles?" "he did. he said that the death was a verymysterious one, and that i should certainly be suspected if the facts came out. he frightenedme into remaining silent." "quite so. but you had your suspicions?" she hesitated and looked down. "i knew him," she said. "but if he had keptfaith with me i should always have done so with him."

"i think that on the whole you have had afortunate escape," said sherlock holmes. "you have had him in your power and he knew it,and yet you are alive. you have been walking for some months very near to the edge of aprecipice. we must wish you good-morning now, mrs. lyons, and it is probable that you willvery shortly hear from us again." "our case becomes rounded off, and difficultyafter difficulty thins away in front of us," said holmes as we stood waiting for the arrivalof the express from town. "i shall soon be in the position of being able to put intoa single connected narrative one of the most singular and sensational crimes of moderntimes. students of criminology will remember the analogous incidents in godno, in littlerussia, in the year '66, and of course there

are the anderson murders in north carolina,but this case possesses some features which are entirely its own. even now we have noclear case against this very wily man. but i shall be very much surprised if it is notclear enough before we go to bed this night." the london express came roaring into the station,and a small, wiry bulldog of a man had sprung from a first-class carriage. we all threeshook hands, and i saw at once from the reverential way in which lestrade gazed at my companionthat he had learned a good deal since the days when they had first worked together.i could well remember the scorn which the theories of the reasoner used then to excitein the practical man. "anything good?" he asked.

"the biggest thing for years," said holmes."we have two hours before we need think of starting. i think we might employ it in gettingsome dinner and then, lestrade, we will take the london fog out of your throat by givingyou a breath of the pure night air of dartmoor. never been there? ah, well, i don't supposeyou will forget your first visit." chapter 14. the hound of the baskervilles one of sherlock holmes's defects—if, indeed,one may call it a defect—was that he was exceedingly loath to communicate his fullplans to any other person until the instant of their fulfilment. partly it came no doubtfrom his own masterful nature, which loved to dominate and surprise those who were aroundhim. partly also from his professional caution,

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 long drive in the darkness.the great ordeal was in front of us; at last we were about to make our final effort, andyet holmes had said nothing, and i could only surmise what his course of action would be.my nerves thrilled with anticipation when at last the cold wind upon our faces and thedark, void spaces on either side of the narrow road told me that we were back upon the mooronce again. every stride of the horses and every turn of the wheels was taking us nearerto our supreme adventure. our conversation was hampered by the presenceof the driver of the hired wagonette, so that

we were forced to talk of trivial matterswhen our nerves were tense with emotion and anticipation. it was a relief to me, afterthat unnatural restraint, when we at last passed frankland's house and knew that wewere drawing near to the hall and to the scene of action. we did not drive up to the doorbut got down near the gate of the avenue. the wagonette was paid off and ordered toreturn to coombe tracey forthwith, while we started to walk to merripit house. "are you armed, lestrade?" the little detective smiled. "as long as ihave my trousers i have a hip-pocket, and as long as i have my hip-pocket i have somethingin it."

"good! my friend and i are also ready foremergencies." "you're mighty close about this affair, mr.holmes. what's the game now?" "a waiting game." "my word, it does not seem a very cheerfulplace," said the detective with a shiver, glancing round him at the gloomy slopes ofthe hill and at the huge lake of fog which lay over the grimpen mire. "i see the lightsof a house ahead of us." "that is merripit house and the end of ourjourney. i must request you to walk on tiptoe and not to talk above a whisper." we moved cautiously along the track as ifwe were bound for the house, but holmes halted

us when we were about two hundred yards fromit. "this will do," said he. "these rocks uponthe right make an admirable screen." "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? canyou tell the position of the rooms? what are those latticed windows at this end?" "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 theland best. creep forward quietly and see what they are doing—but for heaven's sake don'tlet them know that they are watched!" i tiptoed down the path and stooped behindthe low wall which surrounded the stunted orchard. creeping in its shadow i reacheda point whence i could look straight through the uncurtained window. there were only two men in the room, sir henryand stapleton. they sat with their profiles towards me on either side of the round table.both of them were smoking cigars, and coffee and wine were in front of them. stapletonwas talking with animation, but the baronet looked pale and distrait. perhaps the thoughtof that lonely walk across the ill-omened

moor was weighing heavily upon his mind. as i watched them stapleton rose and leftthe room, while sir henry filled his glass again and leaned back in his chair, puffingat his cigar. i heard the creak of a door and the crisp sound of boots upon gravel.the steps passed along the path on the other side of the wall under which i crouched. lookingover, i saw the naturalist pause at the door of an out-house in the corner of the orchard.a key turned in a lock, and as he passed in there was a curious scuffling noise from within.he was only a minute or so inside, and then i heard the key turn once more and he passedme and reentered the house. i saw him rejoin his guest, and i crept quietly back to wheremy companions were waiting to tell them what

i had seen. "you say, watson, that the lady is not there?"holmes asked when i had finished my report. "where can she be, then, since there is nolight in any other room except the kitchen?" "i cannot think where she is." i have said that over the great grimpen mirethere hung a dense, white fog. it was drifting slowly in our direction and banked itselfup like a wall on that side of us, low but thick and well defined. the moon shone onit, and it looked like a great shimmering ice-field, with the heads of the distant torsas rocks borne upon its surface. holmes's face was turned towards it, and he mutteredimpatiently as he watched its sluggish drift.

"it's moving towards us, watson." "is that serious?" "very serious, indeed—the one thing uponearth which could have disarranged my plans. he can't be very long, now. it is alreadyten o'clock. our success and even his life may depend upon his coming out before thefog is over the path." the night was clear and fine above us. thestars shone cold and bright, while a half-moon bathed the whole scene in a soft, uncertainlight. before us lay the dark bulk of the house, its serrated roof and bristling chimneyshard outlined against the silver-spangled sky. broad bars of golden light from the lowerwindows stretched across the orchard and the

moor. one of them was suddenly shut off. theservants had left the kitchen. there only remained the lamp in the dining-room wherethe two men, the murderous host and the unconscious guest, still chatted over their cigars. every minute that white woolly plain whichcovered one-half of the moor was drifting closer and closer to the house. already thefirst thin wisps of it were curling across the golden square of the lighted window. thefarther wall of the orchard was already invisible, and the trees were standing out of a swirlof white vapour. as we watched it the fog-wreaths came crawling round both corners of the houseand rolled slowly into one dense bank on which the upper floor and the roof floated likea strange ship upon a shadowy sea. holmes

struck his hand passionately upon the rockin front of us and stamped his feet in his impatience. "if he isn't out in a quarter of an hour thepath will be covered. in half 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 backbefore it until we were half a mile from the house, and still that dense white sea, withthe moon silvering its upper edge, swept slowly and inexorably on.

"we are going too far," said holmes. "we darenot take the chance of his being overtaken before he can reach us. at all costs we musthold our ground where we are." he dropped on his knees and clapped his ear to the ground."thank god, i think that i hear him coming." a sound of quick steps broke the silence ofthe moor. crouching among the stones we stared intently at the silver-tipped bank in frontof us. the steps grew louder, and through the fog, as through a curtain, there steppedthe man whom we were awaiting. he looked round him in surprise as he emerged into the clear,starlit night. then he came swiftly along the path, passed close to where we lay, andwent on up the long slope behind us. as he walked he glanced continually over eithershoulder, like a man who is ill at ease.

"hist!" cried holmes, and i heard the sharpclick of a cocking pistol. "look out! it's coming!" there was a thin, crisp, continuous patterfrom somewhere in the heart of that crawling bank. the cloud was within fifty yards ofwhere we lay, and we glared at it, all three, uncertain what horror was about to break fromthe heart of it. i was at holmes's elbow, and i glanced for an instant at his face.it was pale and exultant, his eyes shining brightly in the moonlight. but suddenly theystarted forward in a rigid, fixed stare, and his lips parted in amazement. at the sameinstant lestrade gave 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 paralyzed by the dreadfulshape which had sprung out upon us from the shadows of the fog. a hound it was, an enormouscoal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. fire burst fromits open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap wereoutlined in flickering flame. never in the delirious dream of a disordered brain couldanything more savage, more appalling, more hellish be conceived than that dark form andsavage face which broke upon us out of the wall of fog. with long bounds the huge black creature wasleaping down the track, following hard upon the footsteps of our friend. so paralyzedwere we by the apparition that we allowed

him to pass before we had recovered our nerve.then holmes and i both fired together, and the creature gave a hideous howl, which showedthat one at least had hit him. he did not pause, however, but bounded onward. far awayon the path we saw sir henry looking back, his face white in the moonlight, his handsraised in horror, glaring helplessly at the frightful thing which was hunting him down.but that cry of pain from the hound had blown all our fears to the winds. if he was vulnerablehe was mortal, and if we could wound him we could kill him. never have i seen a man runas holmes ran that night. i am reckoned fleet of foot, but he outpaced me as much as i outpacedthe little professional. in front of us as we flew up the track we heard scream afterscream from sir henry and the deep roar of

the hound. i was in time to see the beastspring upon its victim, hurl him to the ground, and worry at his throat. but the next instantholmes had emptied five barrels of his revolver into the creature's flank. with a last howlof agony and a vicious snap in the air, it rolled upon its back, four feet pawing furiously,and then fell limp upon its side. i stooped, panting, and pressed my pistol to the dreadful,shimmering head, but it was useless 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 therewas no sign of a wound and that the rescue had been in time. already our friend's eyelidsshivered and he made a feeble effort to move.

lestrade thrust his brandy-flask between thebaronet's teeth, and two frightened eyes 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 ghost once and forever." in mere size and strength it was a terriblecreature which was lying stretched before us. it was not a pure bloodhound and it wasnot a pure mastiff; 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 seemedto be dripping with a bluish flame and the small, deep-set, cruel eyes were ringed withfire. i placed my hand upon the glowing muzzle,

and as i held them up my own fingers smoulderedand gleamed 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 hispower 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 gaveus little time to receive him." "you have saved my life." "having first endangered it. are you strongenough to stand?" "give me another mouthful of that brandy andi shall be ready for anything. so! now, if

you will help me up. what do you propose todo?" "to leave you here. you are not fit for furtheradventures tonight. if you will wait, one or other of us will go back with you to thehall." he tried to stagger to his feet; but he wasstill ghastly pale and trembling in every limb. we helped him to a rock, where he satshivering with his face buried in his hands. "we must leave you now," said holmes. "therest of our work must be done, and every moment is of importance. we have our case, and nowwe only want our man. "it's a thousand to one against our findinghim at the house," he continued 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 mayhave deadened them." "he followed the hound to call him off—ofthat you may be certain. no, no, he's gone by this time! but we'll search the house andmake sure." the front door was open, so we rushed in andhurried from room to room to the amazement of a doddering old manservant, who met usin the passage. there was no light save in the dining-room, but holmes caught up thelamp and left no corner of the house unexplored. no sign could we see of the man whom we werechasing. on the upper floor, however, one of the bedroom doors was locked. "there's someone in here," cried lestrade."i can hear a movement. open this door!"

a faint moaning and rustling came from within.holmes struck the door just over the lock with the flat of his foot and it flew open.pistol in hand, we all three rushed into the room. but there was no sign within it of that desperateand defiant villain whom 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 were lined by a number of glass-topped cases full of that collection of butterfliesand moths the formation of which had been the relaxation of this complex and dangerousman. in the centre of this room there was

an upright beam, which had been placed atsome period as a support for the old worm-eaten baulk of timber which spanned the roof. tothis post a figure was tied, so swathed and muffled in the sheets which had been usedto secure it that one could not for the moment tell whether it was that of a man or a woman.one towel passed round the throat and was secured at the back of the pillar. anothercovered the lower part of the face, and over it two dark eyes—eyes full of grief andshame and a dreadful questioning—stared back at us. in a minute we had torn off thegag, unswathed the bonds, and mrs. stapleton sank upon the floor in front of us. as herbeautiful head fell upon her chest i saw the clear red weal of a whiplash across her neck.

"the brute!" cried holmes. "here, lestrade,your brandy-bottle! put her in 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?" "and the hound?" "it is dead." she gave a long sigh of satisfaction.

"thank god! thank god! oh, this villain! seehow he has treated me!" she shot her arms out from her sleeves, and we saw with horrorthat they were all mottled with bruises. "but this is nothing—nothing! it is my mind andsoul that he has tortured and defiled. i could endure it all, ill-usage, solitude, a lifeof deception, everything, as long as i could still cling to the hope that i had his love,but now i know that in this 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 we shall find him. if you have ever aided him in evil, help us nowand so atone." "there is but one place where he can havefled," she answered. "there is an old tin

mine on an island in the heart of the mire.it was there that he kept his hound and there also he had made preparations so that he mighthave a refuge. that is where he would fly." the fog-bank lay like white wool against thewindow. holmes held the lamp towards it. "see," said he. "no one could find his wayinto the grimpen mire tonight." she laughed and clapped her hands. her eyesand teeth gleamed with fierce merriment. "he may find his way in, but never out," shecried. "how can he see the guiding wands tonight? we planted them together, he and i, to markthe pathway through the mire. oh, if i could only have plucked them out today. then indeedyou would have had him at your mercy!" it was evident to us that all pursuit wasin vain until the fog had lifted. meanwhile

we left lestrade in possession of the housewhile holmes and i went back with the baronet to baskerville hall. the story of the stapletonscould no longer be withheld from him, but he took the blow bravely when he learned thetruth about the woman whom he had loved. but the shock of the night's adventures had shatteredhis nerves, and before morning he lay delirious in a high fever under the care of dr. mortimer.the two of them were destined to travel together round the world before sir henry had becomeonce more the hale, hearty man that he had been before he became master of that ill-omenedestate. and now i come rapidly to the conclusion ofthis singular narrative, in which i have tried to make the reader share those dark fearsand vague surmises which clouded our lives

so long and ended in so tragic a manner. onthe morning after the death of the hound the fog had lifted and we were guided by mrs.stapleton to the point where they had found a pathway through the bog. it helped us torealize the horror of this woman's life when we saw the eagerness and joy with which shelaid us on her husband's track. we left her standing upon the thin peninsula of firm,peaty soil which tapered out into the widespread bog. from the end of it a small wand plantedhere and there showed where the path zigzagged from tuft to tuft of rushes among those green-scummedpits and foul quagmires which barred the way to the stranger. rank reeds and lush, slimywater-plants sent an odour of decay and a heavy miasmatic vapour onto our faces, whilea false step plunged us more than once thigh-deep

into the dark, quivering mire, which shookfor yards in soft undulations 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 was tugging us downinto those obscene depths, so grim and purposeful was the clutch in which it held us. once onlywe saw a trace that someone had passed that perilous way before us. from amid a tuft ofcotton grass which bore it up out of the slime some dark thing was projecting. holmes sankto his waist as he stepped from the path to seize it, and had we not been there to draghim out he could never have set his foot upon firm land again. he held an old black bootin the air. "meyers, toronto," was printed on the leather inside.

"it is worth a mud bath," said he. "it isour friend sir henry's missing boot." "thrown there by stapleton in his flight." "exactly. he retained it in his hand afterusing it to set the hound upon the track. he fled when he knew the game was up, stillclutching it. and he hurled it away at this point of his flight. we know at least thathe came so far in safety." but more than that we were never destinedto know, though there was much which we might surmise. there was no chance of finding footstepsin the mire, for the rising mud oozed swiftly in upon them, but as we at last reached firmerground beyond the morass we all looked eagerly for them. but no slightest sign of them evermet our eyes. if the earth told a true story,

then stapleton never reached that island ofrefuge towards which he struggled through the fog upon that last night. somewhere inthe heart of the great grimpen mire, down in the foul slime of the huge morass whichhad sucked him in, this cold and cruel-hearted man is forever buried. many traces we found of him in the bog-girtisland where he had hid his savage ally. a huge driving-wheel and a shaft half-filledwith rubbish showed the position of an abandoned mine. beside it were the crumbling remainsof the cottages of the miners, driven away no doubt by the foul reek of the surroundingswamp. in one of these a staple and chain with a quantity of gnawed bones showed wherethe animal had been confined. a skeleton with

a tangle of brown hair adhering to it layamong the debris. "a dog!" said holmes. "by jove, a curly-hairedspaniel. poor mortimer will never see his pet again. well, i do not know that this placecontains any secret which we have not already fathomed. he could hide his hound, but hecould not hush its voice, and hence came those cries which even in daylight were not pleasantto hear. on an emergency he could keep the hound in the out-house at merripit, but itwas always a risk, 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 no doubt the luminousmixture with which the creature was daubed. it was suggested, of course, by the storyof the family hell-hound, and by the desire

to frighten old sir charles to death. no wonderthe poor devil of a convict ran and screamed, even as our friend did, and as we ourselvesmight have done, when he saw such a creature bounding through the darkness of the moorupon his track. it was a cunning device, for, apart from the chance of driving your victimto his death, what peasant would venture to inquire too closely into such a creature shouldhe get sight of it, as many have done, upon the moor? i said it in london, watson, andi say it again now, that never yet have we helped to hunt down a more dangerous man thanhe who is lying yonder"—he swept his long arm towards the huge mottled expanse of green-splotchedbog which stretched away until it merged into the russet slopes of the moor.

chapter 15. a retrospection it was the end of november, and holmes andi sat, upon a raw and foggy night, on either side of a blazing fire in our sitting-roomin baker street. since the tragic upshot of our visit to devonshire he had been engagedin two affairs of the utmost importance, in the first of which he had exposed the atrociousconduct of colonel upwood in connection with the famous card scandal of the nonpareil club,while in the second he had defended the unfortunate mme. montpensier from the charge of murderwhich hung over her in connection with the death of her step-daughter, mlle. carere,the young lady who, as it will be remembered, was found six months later alive and marriedin new york. my friend was in excellent spirits

over the success which had attended a successionof difficult and important cases, so that i was able to induce him to discuss the detailsof the baskerville mystery. i had waited patiently for the opportunity for i was aware that hewould never permit cases to overlap, and that his clear and logical mind would not be drawnfrom its present work to dwell upon memories of the past. sir henry and dr. mortimer were,however, in london, on their way to that long voyage which had been recommended for therestoration of his shattered nerves. they had called upon us that very afternoon, sothat it was natural that the subject should come up for discussion. "the whole course of events," said holmes,"from the point of view of the man who called

himself stapleton was simple and direct, althoughto us, who had no means in the beginning of knowing the motives of his actions and couldonly learn part of the facts, it all appeared exceedingly complex. i have had the advantageof two conversations with mrs. stapleton, and the case has now been so entirely clearedup that i am not aware that there is anything which has remained a secret to us. you willfind a few notes upon the matter under the heading b in my indexed list of cases." "perhaps you would kindly give me a sketchof the course of events from memory." "certainly, though i cannot guarantee thati carry all the facts in my mind. intense mental concentration has a curious way ofblotting out what 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 week or two of the courtswill drive it all out of his head once more. so each of my cases displaces the last, andmlle. carere has blurred my recollection of baskerville hall. tomorrow some other littleproblem may be submitted to my notice which will in turn dispossess the fair french ladyand the infamous upwood. so far as the case of the hound goes, however, i will give youthe course of events as nearly as i can, and you will suggest anything which i may haveforgotten. "my inquiries show beyond all question thatthe family portrait did not lie, and that this fellow was indeed a baskerville. he wasa son of that rodger baskerville, the younger

brother of sir charles, who fled with a sinisterreputation to south america, where he was said to have died unmarried. he did, as amatter of fact, marry, and had one child, this fellow, whose real name is the same ashis father's. he married beryl garcia, one of the beauties of costa rica, and, havingpurloined a considerable sum of public money, he changed his name to vandeleur and fledto england, where he established a school in the east of yorkshire. his reason for attemptingthis special line of business was that he had struck up an acquaintance with a consumptivetutor upon the voyage home, and that he had used this man's ability to make the undertakinga success. fraser, the tutor, died however, and the school which had begun well sank fromdisrepute into infamy. the vandeleurs found

it convenient to change their name to stapleton,and he brought the remains of his fortune, his schemes for the future, and his tastefor entomology to the south of england. i learned at the british museum that he wasa recognized authority upon the subject, and that the name of vandeleur has been permanentlyattached to a certain moth which he had, in his yorkshire days, been the first to describe. "we now come to that portion of his life whichhas proved to be of such intense interest to us. the fellow had evidently made inquiryand found that only two lives intervened between him and a valuable estate. when he went todevonshire his plans were, i believe, exceedingly hazy, but that he meant mischief from thefirst is evident from the way in which he

took his wife with him in the character ofhis sister. the idea of using her as a decoy was clearly already in his mind, though hemay not have been certain how the details of his plot were to be arranged. he meantin the end to have the estate, and he was ready to use any tool or run any risk forthat end. his first act was to establish himself as near to his ancestral home as he could,and his second was to cultivate a friendship with sir charles baskerville and with theneighbours. "the baronet himself told him about the familyhound, and so prepared the way for his own death. stapleton, as i will continue to callhim, knew that the old man's heart was weak and that a shock would kill him. so much hehad learned from dr. mortimer. he had heard

also that sir charles was superstitious andhad taken this grim legend very seriously. his ingenious mind instantly suggested a wayby which the baronet could be done to death, and yet it would be hardly possible to bringhome the guilt to the real murderer. "having conceived the idea he proceeded tocarry it out with considerable finesse. an ordinary schemer would have been content towork with a savage hound. the use of artificial means to make the creature diabolical wasa flash of genius upon his part. the dog he bought in london from ross and mangles, thedealers in fulham road. it was the strongest and most savage in their possession. he broughtit down by the north devon line and walked a great distance over the moor so as to getit home without exciting any remarks. he had

already on his insect hunts learned to penetratethe grimpen mire, and so had found a safe hiding-place for the creature. here he kennelledit and waited his chance. "but it was some time coming. the old gentlemancould not be decoyed outside of his grounds at night. several times stapleton lurked aboutwith his hound, but without avail. it was during these fruitless quests that he, orrather his ally, was seen by peasants, and that the legend of the demon dog receiveda new confirmation. he had hoped that his wife might lure sir charles to his ruin, buthere she proved unexpectedly independent. she would not endeavour to entangle the oldgentleman in a sentimental attachment which might deliver him over to his enemy. threatsand even, i am sorry to say, blows refused

to move her. she would have nothing to dowith it, and for a time stapleton was at a deadlock. "he found a way out of his difficulties throughthe chance that sir charles, 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 himselfas a single man he acquired complete influence over her, and he gave her to understand thatin the event of her obtaining a divorce from her husband he would marry her. his planswere suddenly brought to a head by his knowledge that sir charles was about to leave the hallon the advice of dr. mortimer, with whose opinion he himself pretended to coincide.he must act at once, or his victim might get

beyond his power. he therefore put pressureupon mrs. lyons to write this letter, imploring the old man to give her an interview on theevening before his departure for london. he then, by a specious argument, prevented herfrom going, and so had the chance for which he had waited. "driving back in the evening from coombe traceyhe was in time to get his hound, to treat it with his infernal paint, and to bring thebeast round to the gate at which he had reason to expect that he would find the old gentlemanwaiting. the dog, incited by its master, sprang over the wicket-gate and pursued the unfortunatebaronet, who fled screaming down the yew alley. in that gloomy tunnel it must indeed havebeen a dreadful sight to see that huge black

creature, with its flaming jaws and blazingeyes, bounding after its victim. he fell dead at the end of the alley from heart diseaseand terror. the hound had kept upon the grassy border while the baronet had run down thepath, so that no track but the man's was visible. on seeing him lying still the creature hadprobably approached to sniff at him, but finding him dead had turned away again. it was thenthat it left the print which was actually observed by dr. mortimer. the hound was calledoff and hurried away to its lair in the grimpen mire, and a mystery was left which puzzledthe authorities, alarmed the countryside, and finally brought the case within the scopeof our observation. "so much for the death of sir charles baskerville.you perceive the devilish cunning of it, for

really it would be almost impossible to makea case against the real murderer. his only accomplice was one who could never give himaway, and the grotesque, inconceivable nature of the device only served to make it moreeffective. both of the women concerned in the case, mrs. stapleton and mrs. laura lyons,were left with a strong suspicion against stapleton. mrs. stapleton knew that he haddesigns upon the old man, and also of the existence of the hound. mrs. lyons knew neitherof these things, but had been impressed by the death occurring at the time of an uncancelledappointment which was only known to him. however, both of them were under his influence, andhe had nothing to fear from them. the first half of his task was successfully accomplishedbut the more difficult still remained.

"it is possible that stapleton did not knowof the existence of an heir in canada. in any case he would very soon learn it fromhis 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 stranger from canada mightpossibly be done to death in london without coming down to devonshire at all. he distrustedhis wife ever since she had refused to help him in laying a trap for the old man, andhe dared not leave her long out of his sight for fear he should lose his influence overher. it was for this reason that he took her to london with him. they lodged, i find, atthe mexborough private hotel, in craven street, which was actually one of those called uponby my agent in search of evidence. here he

kept his wife imprisoned in her room whilehe, disguised in a beard, followed dr. mortimer to baker street and afterwards to the stationand to the northumberland hotel. his wife had some inkling of his plans; but she hadsuch a fear of her husband—a fear founded upon brutal ill-treatment—that she darenot write to warn the 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 we know, she adoptedthe expedient of cutting out the words which would form the message, and addressing theletter in a disguised hand. it reached the baronet, and gave him the first warning ofhis danger. "it was very essential for stapleton to getsome article of sir henry's attire so that,

in case he was driven to use the dog, he mightalways have the means of setting him upon his track. with characteristic promptnessand audacity he set about this at once, and we cannot doubt that the boots or chamber-maidof the hotel was well bribed to help him in his design. by chance, however, the firstboot which was procured for him was a new one and, therefore, useless for his purpose.he then had it returned and obtained another—a most instructive incident, since it provedconclusively to my mind that we were dealing with a real hound, as no other suppositioncould explain this anxiety to obtain an old boot and this indifference to a new one. themore outre and grotesque an incident is the more carefully it deserves to be examined,and the very point which appears to complicate

a case is, when duly considered and scientificallyhandled, the one which is most likely to elucidate it. "then we had the visit from our friends nextmorning, shadowed always by stapleton in the cab. from his knowledge of our rooms and ofmy appearance, as well as from his general conduct, i am inclined to think that stapleton'scareer of crime has been by no means limited to this single baskerville affair. it is suggestivethat during the last three years there have been four considerable burglaries in the westcountry, for none of which was any criminal ever arrested. the last of these, at folkestonecourt, in may, was remarkable for the cold-blooded pistolling of the page, who surprised themasked and solitary burglar. i cannot doubt

that stapleton recruited his waning resourcesin this fashion, and that for years he has been a desperate and dangerous man. "we had an example of his readiness of resourcethat morning when he got away from us so successfully, and also of his audacity in sending back myown name to me through the cabman. from that moment he understood that i had taken overthe case in london, and that therefore there was no chance for him there. he returned todartmoor and awaited the arrival of the baronet." "one moment!" said i. "you have, no doubt,described the sequence of 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 matterand it is undoubtedly of importance. there can be no question that stapleton had a confidant,though it is unlikely that he ever placed himself in his power by sharing all his planswith him. there was an old manservant at merripit house, whose name was anthony. his connectionwith the stapletons can be traced for several years, as far back as the school-masteringdays, so that he must have been aware that his master and mistress were really husbandand wife. this man has disappeared and has escaped from the country. it is suggestivethat anthony is not a common name in england, while antonio is so in all spanish or spanish-americancountries. the man, like mrs. stapleton herself, spoke good english, but with a curious lispingaccent. i have myself seen this old man cross

the grimpen mire by the path which stapletonhad marked out. it is very probable, therefore, that in the absence of his master it was hewho cared for the hound, though he may never have known the purpose for which the beastwas used. "the stapletons then went down to devonshire,whither they were soon followed by sir henry and you. one word now as to how i stood myselfat that time. it may possibly recur to your memory that when i examined the paper uponwhich the printed words were fastened i made a close inspection for the water-mark. indoing so i held it within a few inches of my eyes, and was conscious of a faint smellof the scent known as white jessamine. there are seventy-five perfumes, which it is verynecessary that a criminal expert should be

able to distinguish from each other, and caseshave more than once within my own experience depended upon their prompt recognition. thescent suggested the presence of a lady, and already my thoughts began to turn towardsthe stapletons. thus i had made certain of the hound, and had guessed at the criminalbefore ever we went to the west country. "it was my game to watch stapleton. it wasevident, however, that i could not do this if i were with you, since he would be keenlyon his guard. i deceived everybody, therefore, yourself included, and i came down secretlywhen i was supposed to be in london. my hardships were not so great as you imagined, thoughsuch trifling details must never interfere with the investigation of a case. i stayedfor the most part at coombe tracey, and only

used the hut upon the moor when it was necessaryto be near the scene of action. cartwright had come down with me, and in his disguiseas a country boy he was of great assistance to me. i was dependent upon him for food andclean linen. when i was watching stapleton, cartwright was frequently watching you, sothat i was able to keep my hand upon all the strings. "i have already told you that your reportsreached me rapidly, being forwarded instantly from baker street to coombe tracey. they wereof great service to me, and especially that one incidentally truthful piece of biographyof stapleton's. i was able to establish the identity of the man and the woman and knewat last exactly how i stood. the case had

been considerably complicated through theincident of the escaped convict and the relations between him and the barrymores. this alsoyou cleared up in a very effective way, though i had already come to the same conclusionsfrom my own observations. "by the time that you discovered me upon themoor i had a complete knowledge of the whole business, but i had not a case which couldgo to a jury. even stapleton's attempt upon sir henry that night which ended in the deathof the unfortunate convict did not help us much in proving murder against our man. thereseemed to be no alternative but to catch him red-handed, and to do so we had to use sirhenry, alone and apparently unprotected, as a bait. we did so, and at the cost of a severeshock to our client we succeeded in completing

our case and driving stapleton to his destruction.that sir henry should have been exposed to this is, i must confess, a reproach to mymanagement of the case, but we had no means of foreseeing the terrible and paralyzingspectacle which the beast presented, nor could we predict the fog which enabled him to burstupon us at such short notice. we succeeded in our object at a cost which both the specialistand dr. mortimer assure me will be a temporary one. a long journey may enable our friendto recover not only from his shattered nerves but also from his wounded feelings. his lovefor the lady was deep and sincere, and to him the saddest part of all this black businesswas that he should have been deceived by her. "it only remains to indicate the part whichshe had played throughout. there can be no

doubt that stapleton exercised an influenceover her which may have been love or may have been fear, or very possibly both, since theyare by no means incompatible emotions. it was, at least, absolutely effective. at hiscommand she consented to pass as his sister, though he found the limits of his power overher when he endeavoured to make her the direct accessory to murder. she was ready to warnsir henry so far as she could without implicating her husband, and again and again she triedto do so. stapleton himself seems to have been capable of jealousy, and when he sawthe baronet paying court to the lady, even though it was part of his own plan, stillhe could not help interrupting with a passionate outburst which revealed the fiery soul whichhis self-contained manner so cleverly concealed.

by encouraging the intimacy he made it certainthat sir henry would frequently come to merripit house and that he would sooner or later getthe opportunity which he desired. on the day of the crisis, however, his wife turned suddenlyagainst him. she had learned something of the death of the convict, and she knew thatthe hound was being kept in the outhouse on the evening that sir henry was coming to dinner.she taxed her husband with 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 fidelity turned in an instantto bitter hatred, and he saw that she would betray him. he tied her up, therefore, thatshe might have no chance of warning sir henry, and he hoped, no doubt, that when the wholecountryside put down 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 and to keep silent uponwhat she knew. in this i fancy that in any case he made a miscalculation, and that, ifwe had not been there, his doom would none the less have been sealed. a woman of spanishblood does not condone such an injury so lightly. and now, my dear watson, without referringto my notes, i cannot give you a more detailed account of this curious case. i do not knowthat anything essential has been left unexplained." "he could not hope to frighten sir henry todeath as he had done the old uncle with his bogie hound." "the beast was savage and half-starved. ifits appearance did not frighten 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 the succession, how could he explain the fact that he, the heir,had been living unannounced under another name so close to the property? how could heclaim it without causing suspicion and inquiry?" "it is a formidable difficulty, and i fearthat you ask too much when you expect me to solve it. the past and the present are withinthe field of my inquiry, but what a man may do in the future is a hard question to answer.mrs. stapleton has heard her husband discuss the problem on several occasions. there werethree possible courses. he might claim the property from south america, establish hisidentity before the british authorities there

and so obtain the fortune without ever comingto england at all, or he might adopt an elaborate disguise during the short time that he needbe in london; or, again, he might furnish an accomplice with the proofs and papers,putting him in as heir, and retaining a claim upon some proportion of his income. we cannotdoubt from what we know of him that he would have found some way out of the difficulty.and now, my dear watson, we have had some weeks of severe work, and for one evening,i think, we may turn our thoughts into more pleasant channels. i have a box for 'les huguenots.'have you heard the de reszkes? might i trouble you then to be ready in half an hour, andwe can stop at marcini's for a little dinner on the way?"

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