ProjectGutenberg'sTheHoundoftheBaskervilles,byA.ConanDoyle

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Title:TheHoundoftheBaskervilles

Author:A.ConanDoyle

ReleaseDate:December8,2008[EBook#2852]

LastUpdated:December17,2012

Language:English

***STARTOFTHISPROJECTGUTENBERGEBOOKTHEHOUNDOFTHEBASKERVILLES***

ProducedbyShreevatsaR,andDavidWidger

THEHOUNDOFTHEBASKERVILLES

ByA.ConanDoyle

Contents

Chapter1. Mr.SherlockHolmesChapter2. TheCurseoftheBaskervillesChapter3. TheProblemChapter4. SirHenryBaskervilleChapter5. ThreeBrokenThreadsChapter6. BaskervilleHallChapter7. TheStapletonsofMerripitHouseChapter8. FirstReportofDr.WatsonChapter9. TheLightupontheMoor[SecondReportofDr.Watson]Chapter10. ExtractfromtheDiaryofDr.WatsonChapter11. TheManontheTorChapter12. DeathontheMoorChapter13. FixingtheNetsChapter14. TheHoundoftheBaskervillesChapter15. ARetrospection

Chapter1.Mr.SherlockHolmesMr.SherlockHolmes,whowasusuallyverylateinthemornings,saveuponthose

notinfrequentoccasionswhenhewasupallnight,wasseatedatthebreakfasttable.Istooduponthehearth-rugandpickedupthestickwhichourvisitorhadleftbehindhimthenightbefore.Itwasafine,thickpieceofwood,bulbous-headed,ofthesortwhichisknownasa"Penanglawyer."Justundertheheadwasabroadsilverbandnearly an inch across. "To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., from his friends of theC.C.H.,"wasengravedupon it,with thedate"1884." Itwas just sucha stickas theold-fashionedfamilypractitionerusedtocarry—dignified,solid,andreassuring."Well,Watson,whatdoyoumakeofit?"Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my

occupation."HowdidyouknowwhatIwasdoing?Ibelieveyouhaveeyesinthebackofyour

head.""Ihave,atleast,awell-polished,silver-platedcoffee-potinfrontofme,"saidhe.

"But,tellme,Watson,whatdoyoumakeofourvisitor'sstick?Sincewehavebeenso unfortunate as to miss him and have no notion of his errand, this accidentalsouvenir becomes of importance. Let me hear you reconstruct the man by anexaminationofit.""Ithink,"saidI,followingasfarasIcouldthemethodsofmycompanion,"that

Dr.Mortimerisasuccessful,elderlymedicalman,well-esteemedsincethosewhoknowhimgivehimthismarkoftheirappreciation.""Good!"saidHolmes."Excellent!""I thinkalso that theprobability is in favourofhisbeingacountrypractitioner

whodoesagreatdealofhisvisitingonfoot.""Whyso?""Becausethisstick,thoughoriginallyaveryhandsomeonehasbeensoknocked

about that I can hardly imagine a town practitioner carrying it. The thick-ironferrule isworndown,so it isevident thathehasdoneagreatamountofwalkingwithit.""Perfectlysound!"saidHolmes."And thenagain, there is the 'friendsof theC.C.H.' I shouldguess that tobe the

Something Hunt, the local hunt to whose members he has possibly given somesurgicalassistance,andwhichhasmadehimasmallpresentationinreturn."

"Really,Watson, you excel yourself," saidHolmes, pushing back his chair andlightingacigarette."Iamboundtosaythatinalltheaccountswhichyouhavebeensogoodas togiveofmyownsmallachievementsyouhavehabituallyunderratedyour own abilities. It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but you are aconductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkablepowerofstimulatingit.Iconfess,mydearfellow,thatIamverymuchinyourdebt."Hehadneversaidasmuchbefore,andImustadmitthathiswordsgavemekeen

pleasure,forIhadoftenbeenpiquedbyhisindifferencetomyadmirationandtotheattemptswhichIhadmadetogivepublicitytohismethods.Iwasproud,too,tothinkthat I had so far mastered his system as to apply it in a way which earned hisapproval.Henowtookthestickfrommyhandsandexamineditforafewminuteswithhisnakedeyes.Thenwithanexpressionofinteresthelaiddownhiscigarette,andcarryingthecanetothewindow,helookedoveritagainwithaconvexlens."Interesting,thoughelementary,"saidheashereturnedtohisfavouritecornerof

thesettee."Therearecertainlyoneortwoindicationsuponthestick.Itgivesusthebasisforseveraldeductions.""Hasanythingescapedme?"Iaskedwithsomeself-importance."Itrustthatthere

isnothingofconsequencewhichIhaveoverlooked?""I am afraid, my dearWatson, that most of your conclusions were erroneous.

WhenIsaidthatyoustimulatedmeImeant,tobefrank,thatinnotingyourfallaciesIwasoccasionallyguidedtowardsthetruth.Notthatyouareentirelywronginthisinstance.Themaniscertainlyacountrypractitioner.Andhewalksagooddeal.""ThenIwasright.""Tothatextent.""Butthatwasall.""No,no,mydearWatson,notall—bynomeansall.Iwouldsuggest,forexample,

thatapresentationtoadoctorismorelikelytocomefromahospital thanfromahunt, and that when the initials 'C.C.' are placed before that hospital the words'CharingCross'verynaturallysuggestthemselves.""Youmayberight.""Theprobabilityliesinthatdirection.Andifwetakethisasaworkinghypothesis

wehaveafreshbasisfromwhichtostartourconstructionofthisunknownvisitor.""Well,then,supposingthat'C.C.H.'doesstandfor'CharingCrossHospital,'what

furtherinferencesmaywedraw?""Dononesuggestthemselves?Youknowmymethods.Applythem!""I can only think of the obvious conclusion that theman has practised in town

beforegoingtothecountry.""Ithinkthatwemightventurealittlefartherthanthis.Lookatitinthislight.On

whatoccasionwoulditbemostprobable thatsuchapresentationwouldbemade?Whenwouldhisfriendsunitetogivehimapledgeoftheirgoodwill?ObviouslyatthemomentwhenDr.Mortimerwithdrewfromtheserviceofthehospitalinordertostartapractice forhimself.Weknow therehasbeenapresentation.Webelievethere has been a change from a town hospital to a country practice. Is it, then,stretchingourinferencetoofartosaythatthepresentationwasontheoccasionofthechange?""Itcertainlyseemsprobable.""Now,youwillobserve thathecouldnothavebeenon thestaffof thehospital,

sinceonlyamanwell-establishedinaLondonpracticecouldholdsuchaposition,andsuchaonewouldnotdriftintothecountry.Whatwashe,then?Ifhewasinthehospital and yet not on the staff he could only have been a house-surgeon or ahouse-physician—littlemorethanaseniorstudent.Andheleftfiveyearsago—thedate is on the stick.Soyour grave,middle-aged familypractitioner vanishes intothinair,mydearWatson,andthereemergesayoungfellowunderthirty,amiable,unambitious,absent-minded,and thepossessorofa favouritedog,which I shoulddescriberoughlyasbeinglargerthanaterrierandsmallerthanamastiff."I laughed incredulously asSherlockHolmes leanedback inhis settee andblew

littlewaveringringsofsmokeuptotheceiling."Astothelatterpart,Ihavenomeansofcheckingyou,"saidI,"butatleastitis

not difficult to find out a few particulars about the man's age and professionalcareer."FrommysmallmedicalshelfItookdowntheMedicalDirectoryandturnedupthename.TherewereseveralMortimers,butonlyonewhocouldbeourvisitor.Ireadhisrecordaloud."Mortimer,James,M.R.C.S.,1882,Grimpen,Dartmoor,Devon.

House-surgeon,from1882to1884,atCharingCrossHospital.

WinneroftheJacksonprizeforComparativePathology,

withessayentitled'IsDiseaseaReversion?'Corresponding

memberoftheSwedishPathologicalSociety.Authorof

'SomeFreaksofAtavism'(Lancet1882).'DoWeProgress?'

(JournalofPsychology,March,1883).MedicalOfficer

fortheparishesofGrimpen,Thorsley,andHighBarrow."

"Nomentionofthatlocalhunt,Watson,"saidHolmeswithamischievoussmile,"butacountrydoctor,asyouveryastutelyobserved.IthinkthatIamfairlyjustifiedin my inferences. As to the adjectives, I said, if I remember right, amiable,unambitious,andabsent-minded.Itismyexperiencethatitisonlyanamiablemanin thisworldwhoreceives testimonials,onlyanunambitiousonewhoabandonsaLondoncareerforthecountry,andonlyanabsent-mindedonewholeaveshisstickandnothisvisiting-cardafterwaitinganhourinyourroom.""Andthedog?""Hasbeeninthehabitofcarryingthisstickbehindhismaster.Beingaheavystick

thedoghasheldittightlybythemiddle,andthemarksofhisteethareveryplainly

visible.Thedog'sjaw,asshowninthespacebetweenthesemarks, is toobroadinmyopinionforaterrierandnotbroadenoughforamastiff.Itmayhavebeen—yes,byJove,itisacurly-hairedspaniel."Hehadrisenandpacedtheroomashespoke.Nowhehaltedintherecessofthe

window. There was such a ring of conviction in his voice that I glanced up insurprise."Mydearfellow,howcanyoupossiblybesosureofthat?""FortheverysimplereasonthatIseethedoghimselfonourverydoor-step,and

thereistheringofitsowner.Don'tmove,Ibegyou,Watson.Heisaprofessionalbrother of yours, and your presence may be of assistance to me. Now is thedramatic moment of fate,Watson, when you hear a step upon the stair which iswalking intoyour life, andyouknownotwhether forgoodor ill.WhatdoesDr.James Mortimer, the man of science, ask of Sherlock Holmes, the specialist incrime?Comein!"Theappearanceofourvisitorwasasurprisetome,sinceIhadexpectedatypical

country practitioner. He was a very tall, thinman, with a long nose like a beak,which jutted out between two keen, gray eyes, set closely together and sparklingbrightlyfrombehindapairofgold-rimmedglasses.Hewascladinaprofessionalbut rather slovenly fashion, for his frock-coatwas dingy andhis trousers frayed.Though young, his long backwas already bowed, and hewalkedwith a forwardthrustofhisheadandageneralairofpeeringbenevolence.AsheenteredhiseyesfelluponthestickinHolmes'shand,andherantowardsitwithanexclamationofjoy."Iamsoveryglad,"saidhe."IwasnotsurewhetherIhadleftithereorintheShippingOffice.Iwouldnotlosethatstickfortheworld.""Apresentation,Isee,"saidHolmes."Yes,sir.""FromCharingCrossHospital?""Fromoneortwofriendsthereontheoccasionofmymarriage.""Dear,dear,that'sbad!"saidHolmes,shakinghishead.Dr. Mortimer blinked through his glasses in mild astonishment. "Why was it

bad?""Onlythatyouhavedisarrangedourlittledeductions.Yourmarriage,yousay?""Yes,sir.Imarried,andsoleftthehospital,andwithitallhopesofaconsulting

practice.Itwasnecessarytomakeahomeofmyown.""Come, come,we arenot so farwrong, after all," saidHolmes. "Andnow,Dr.

JamesMortimer—""Mister,sir,Mister—ahumbleM.R.C.S.""Andamanofprecisemind,evidently."

"Adabblerinscience,Mr.Holmes,apickerupofshellsontheshoresofthegreatunknownocean. I presume that it isMr.SherlockHolmeswhom I amaddressingandnot—""No,thisismyfriendDr.Watson.""Gladtomeetyou,sir.Ihaveheardyournamementionedinconnectionwiththat

ofyour friend.You interestmeverymuch,Mr.Holmes. Ihadhardlyexpected sodolichocephalicaskullorsuchwell-markedsupra-orbitaldevelopment.Wouldyouhaveanyobjectiontomyrunningmyfingeralongyourparietalfissure?Acastofyour skull, sir, until the original is available, would be an ornament to anyanthropologicalmuseum. It isnotmy intention tobe fulsome,but I confess that Icovetyourskull."SherlockHolmeswavedourstrangevisitorintoachair."Youareanenthusiastin

yourlineofthought,Iperceive,sir,asIaminmine,"saidhe."Iobservefromyourforefingerthatyoumakeyourowncigarettes.Havenohesitationinlightingone."Theman drew out paper and tobacco and twirled the one up in the otherwith

surprising dexterity. He had long, quivering fingers as agile and restless as theantennaeofaninsect.Holmeswassilent,buthislittledartingglancesshowedmetheinterestwhichhe

took in our curious companion. "I presume, sir," said he at last, "that it was notmerelyforthepurposeofexaminingmyskullthatyouhavedonemethehonourtocallherelastnightandagaintoday?""No,sir,no;thoughIamhappytohavehadtheopportunityofdoingthataswell.

I came to you,Mr.Holmes, because I recognized that I ammyself an unpracticalmanandbecauseIamsuddenlyconfrontedwithamostseriousandextraordinaryproblem.Recognizing,asIdo,thatyouarethesecondhighestexpertinEurope—""Indeed,sir!MayIinquirewhohasthehonourtobethefirst?"askedHolmeswith

someasperity."To theman of precisely scientificmind thework ofMonsieurBertillonmust

alwaysappealstrongly.""Thenhadyounotbetterconsulthim?""Isaid,sir,tothepreciselyscientificmind.Butasapracticalmanofaffairsitis

acknowledgedthatyoustandalone.Itrust,sir,thatIhavenotinadvertently—""Justalittle,"saidHolmes."Ithink,Dr.Mortimer,youwoulddowiselyifwithout

moreadoyouwouldkindlytellmeplainlywhattheexactnatureoftheproblemisinwhichyoudemandmyassistance."

Chapter2.TheCurseoftheBaskervilles"Ihaveinmypocketamanuscript,"saidDr.JamesMortimer."Iobserveditasyouenteredtheroom,"saidHolmes."Itisanoldmanuscript.""Earlyeighteenthcentury,unlessitisaforgery.""Howcanyousaythat,sir?""Youhavepresentedaninchortwoofittomyexaminationallthetimethatyou

have been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of adocumentwithinadecadeorso.Youmaypossiblyhavereadmylittlemonographuponthesubject.Iputthatat1730.""The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer drew it from his breast-pocket. "This

familypaperwascommittedtomycarebySirCharlesBaskerville,whosesuddenandtragicdeathsomethreemonthsagocreatedsomuchexcitementinDevonshire.ImaysaythatIwashispersonalfriendaswellashismedicalattendant.Hewasastrong-mindedman,sir,shrewd,practical,andasunimaginativeasIammyself.Yethe took thisdocumentveryseriously,andhismindwasprepared for just suchanendasdideventuallyovertakehim."Holmesstretchedouthishandforthemanuscriptandflattenedituponhisknee.

"Youwillobserve,Watson,thealternativeuseofthelongsandtheshort.Itisoneofseveralindicationswhichenabledmetofixthedate."I lookedoverhisshoulderat theyellowpaperand the fadedscript.At thehead

waswritten:"BaskervilleHall,"andbelowinlarge,scrawlingfigures:"1742.""Itappearstobeastatementofsomesort.""Yes,itisastatementofacertainlegendwhichrunsintheBaskervillefamily.""ButIunderstandthatitissomethingmoremodernandpracticaluponwhichyou

wishtoconsultme?""Mostmodern.Amostpractical,pressingmatter,whichmustbedecidedwithin

twenty-fourhours.Butthemanuscriptisshortandisintimatelyconnectedwiththeaffair.WithyourpermissionIwillreadittoyou."Holmes leanedback inhis chair, placedhis finger-tips together, and closedhis

eyes,withanairofresignation.Dr.Mortimerturnedthemanuscripttothelightandreadinahigh,crackingvoicethefollowingcurious,old-worldnarrative:"OftheoriginoftheHoundoftheBaskervillesthere

havebeenmanystatements,yetasIcomeinadirect

linefromHugoBaskerville,andasIhadthestoryfrom

myfather,whoalsohaditfromhis,Ihavesetitdown

withallbeliefthatitoccurredevenasishereset

forth.AndIwouldhaveyoubelieve,mysons,thatthe

sameJusticewhichpunishessinmayalsomostgraciously

forgiveit,andthatnobanissoheavybutthatbyprayer

andrepentanceitmayberemoved.Learnthenfromthis

storynottofearthefruitsofthepast,butratherto

becircumspectinthefuture,thatthosefoulpassions

wherebyourfamilyhassufferedsogrievouslymaynot

againbeloosedtoourundoing.

"KnowthenthatinthetimeoftheGreatRebellion(the

historyofwhichbythelearnedLordClarendonImost

earnestlycommendtoyourattention)thisManorof

BaskervillewasheldbyHugoofthatname,norcanitbe

gainsaidthathewasamostwild,profane,andgodless

man.This,intruth,hisneighboursmighthavepardoned,

seeingthatsaintshaveneverflourishedinthoseparts,

buttherewasinhimacertainwantonandcruelhumour

whichmadehisnameaby-wordthroughtheWest.It

chancedthatthisHugocametolove(if,indeed,sodark

apassionmaybeknownundersobrightaname)thedaughter

ofayeomanwhoheldlandsneartheBaskervilleestate.

Buttheyoungmaiden,beingdiscreetandofgoodrepute,

wouldeveravoidhim,forshefearedhisevilname.So

itcametopassthatoneMichaelmasthisHugo,withfive

orsixofhisidleandwickedcompanions,stoledownupon

thefarmandcarriedoffthemaiden,herfatherand

brothersbeingfromhome,ashewellknew.Whentheyhad

broughthertotheHallthemaidenwasplacedinanupper

chamber,whileHugoandhisfriendssatdowntoalong

carouse,aswastheirnightlycustom.Now,thepoorlass

upstairswasliketohaveherwitsturnedatthesinging

andshoutingandterribleoathswhichcameuptoherfrom

below,fortheysaythatthewordsusedbyHugoBaskerville,

whenhewasinwine,weresuchasmightblastthemanwho

saidthem.Atlastinthestressofherfearshedidthat

whichmighthavedauntedthebravestormostactiveman,

forbytheaidofthegrowthofivywhichcovered(and

stillcovers)thesouthwallshecamedownfromunderthe

eaves,andsohomewardacrossthemoor,therebeingthree

leaguesbetwixttheHallandherfather'sfarm.

"ItchancedthatsomelittletimelaterHugolefthis

gueststocarryfoodanddrink—withotherworsethings,

perchance—tohiscaptive,andsofoundthecageempty

andthebirdescaped.Then,asitwouldseem,hebecame

asonethathathadevil,for,rushingdownthestairs

intothedining-hall,hespranguponthegreattable,

flagonsandtrenchersflyingbeforehim,andhecried

aloudbeforeallthecompanythathewouldthatvery

nightrenderhisbodyandsoultothePowersofEvilif

hemightbutovertakethewench.Andwhiletherevellers

stoodaghastatthefuryoftheman,onemorewickedor,

itmaybe,moredrunkenthantherest,criedoutthat

theyshouldputthehoundsuponher.WhereatHugoran

fromthehouse,cryingtohisgroomsthattheyshould

saddlehismareandunkennelthepack,andgivingthe

houndsakerchiefofthemaid's,heswungthemtothe

line,andsoofffullcryinthemoonlightoverthemoor.

"Now,forsomespacetherevellersstoodagape,unable

tounderstandallthathadbeendoneinsuchhaste.But

anontheirbemusedwitsawoketothenatureofthedeed

whichwasliketobedoneuponthemoorlands.Everything

wasnowinanuproar,somecallingfortheirpistols,

somefortheirhorses,andsomeforanotherflaskof

wine.Butatlengthsomesensecamebacktotheircrazed

minds,andthewholeofthem,thirteeninnumber,took

horseandstartedinpursuit.Themoonshoneclearabove

them,andtheyrodeswiftlyabreast,takingthatcourse

whichthemaidmustneedshavetakenifsheweretoreach

herownhome.

"Theyhadgoneamileortwowhentheypassedoneofthe

nightshepherdsuponthemoorlands,andtheycriedto

himtoknowifhehadseenthehunt.Andtheman,as

thestorygoes,wassocrazedwithfearthathecould

scarcespeak,butatlasthesaidthathehadindeedseen

theunhappymaiden,withthehoundsuponhertrack.'But

Ihaveseenmorethanthat,'saidhe,'forHugoBaskerville

passedmeuponhisblackmare,andthereranmutebehind

himsuchahoundofhellasGodforbidshouldeverbeat

myheels.'Sothedrunkensquirescursedtheshepherd

androdeonward.Butsoontheirskinsturnedcold,for

therecameagallopingacrossthemoor,andtheblack

mare,dabbledwithwhitefroth,wentpastwithtrailing

bridleandemptysaddle.Thentherevellersrodeclose

together,foragreatfearwasonthem,buttheystill

followedoverthemoor,thougheach,hadhebeenalone,

wouldhavebeenrightgladtohaveturnedhishorse's

head.Ridingslowlyinthisfashiontheycameatlast

uponthehounds.These,thoughknownfortheirvalour

andtheirbreed,werewhimperinginaclusteratthe

headofadeepdiporgoyal,aswecallit,uponthe

moor,someslinkingawayandsome,withstartinghackles

andstaringeyes,gazingdownthenarrowvalleybeforethem.

"Thecompanyhadcometoahalt,moresobermen,asyou

mayguess,thanwhentheystarted.Themostofthem

wouldbynomeansadvance,butthreeofthem,theboldest,

oritmaybethemostdrunken,rodeforwarddownthegoyal.

Now,itopenedintoabroadspaceinwhichstoodtwoof

thosegreatstones,stilltobeseenthere,whichwere

setbycertainforgottenpeoplesinthedaysofold.

Themoonwasshiningbrightupontheclearing,andthere

inthecentrelaytheunhappymaidwhereshehadfallen,

deadoffearandoffatigue.Butitwasnotthesight

ofherbody,noryetwasitthatofthebodyofHugo

Baskervillelyingnearher,whichraisedthehairupon

theheadsofthesethreedare-devilroysterers,butit

wasthat,standingoverHugo,andpluckingathisthroat,

therestoodafoulthing,agreat,blackbeast,shaped

likeahound,yetlargerthananyhoundthatevermortal

eyehasrestedupon.Andevenastheylookedthething

torethethroatoutofHugoBaskerville,onwhich,asit

turneditsblazingeyesanddrippingjawsuponthem,the

threeshriekedwithfearandrodefordearlife,still

screaming,acrossthemoor.One,itissaid,diedthat

verynightofwhathehadseen,andtheothertwainwere

butbrokenmenfortherestoftheirdays.

"Suchisthetale,mysons,ofthecomingofthehound

whichissaidtohaveplaguedthefamilysosorelyever

since.IfIhavesetitdownitisbecausethatwhich

isclearlyknownhathlessterrorthanthatwhichisbut

hintedatandguessed.Norcanitbedeniedthatmany

ofthefamilyhavebeenunhappyintheirdeaths,which

havebeensudden,bloody,andmysterious.Yetmaywe

shelterourselvesintheinfinitegoodnessofProvidence,

whichwouldnotforeverpunishtheinnocentbeyondthat

thirdorfourthgenerationwhichisthreatenedinHoly

Writ.TothatProvidence,mysons,Iherebycommend

you,andIcounselyoubywayofcautiontoforbearfrom

crossingthemoorinthosedarkhourswhenthepowersof

evilareexalted.

"[ThisfromHugoBaskervilletohissonsRodgerandJohn,

withinstructionsthattheysaynothingthereoftotheir

sisterElizabeth.]"

WhenDr.Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushed hisspectaclesuponhisforeheadandstaredacrossatMr.SherlockHolmes.Thelatteryawnedandtossedtheendofhiscigaretteintothefire."Well?"saidhe."Doyounotfinditinteresting?""Toacollectoroffairytales."Dr.Mortimerdrewafoldednewspaperoutofhispocket."Now,Mr.Holmes,wewillgiveyousomethinga littlemorerecent.This is the

DevonCountyChronicleofMay14thofthisyear.Itisashortaccountofthefactselicited at the death ofSirCharlesBaskervillewhichoccurred a fewdays beforethatdate."My friend leaned a little forward andhis expressionbecame intent.Ourvisitor

readjustedhisglassesandbegan:"TherecentsuddendeathofSirCharlesBaskerville,whose

namehasbeenmentionedastheprobableLiberalcandidate

forMid-Devonatthenextelection,hascastagloomover

thecounty.ThoughSirCharleshadresidedatBaskerville

Hallforacomparativelyshortperiodhisamiabilityof

characterandextremegenerosityhadwontheaffection

andrespectofallwhohadbeenbroughtintocontactwith

him.Inthesedaysofnouveauxrichesitisrefreshing

tofindacasewherethescionofanoldcountyfamily

whichhasfallenuponevildaysisabletomakehisown

fortuneandtobringitbackwithhimtorestorethe

fallengrandeurofhisline.SirCharles,asiswellknown,

madelargesumsofmoneyinSouthAfricanspeculation.

Morewisethanthosewhogoonuntilthewheelturns

againstthem,herealizedhisgainsandreturnedtoEngland

withthem.Itisonlytwoyearssincehetookuphis

residenceatBaskervilleHall,anditiscommontalkhow

largewerethoseschemesofreconstructionandimprovement

whichhavebeeninterruptedbyhisdeath.Beinghimself

childless,itwashisopenlyexpresseddesirethatthe

wholecountrysideshould,withinhisownlifetime,profit

byhisgoodfortune,andmanywillhavepersonalreasons

forbewailinghisuntimelyend.Hisgenerousdonations

tolocalandcountycharitieshavebeenfrequently

chronicledinthesecolumns.

"ThecircumstancesconnectedwiththedeathofSirCharles

cannotbesaidtohavebeenentirelyclearedupbythe

inquest,butatleastenoughhasbeendonetodisposeof

thoserumourstowhichlocalsuperstitionhasgivenrise.

Thereisnoreasonwhatevertosuspectfoulplay,orto

imaginethatdeathcouldbefromanybutnaturalcauses.

SirCharleswasawidower,andamanwhomaybesaidto

havebeeninsomewaysofaneccentrichabitofmind.

Inspiteofhisconsiderablewealthhewassimpleinhis

personaltastes,andhisindoorservantsatBaskerville

HallconsistedofamarriedcouplenamedBarrymore,the

husbandactingasbutlerandthewifeashousekeeper.

Theirevidence,corroboratedbythatofseveralfriends,

tendstoshowthatSirCharles'shealthhasforsometime

beenimpaired,andpointsespeciallytosomeaffection

oftheheart,manifestingitselfinchangesofcolour,

breathlessness,andacuteattacksofnervousdepression.

Dr.JamesMortimer,thefriendandmedicalattendantof

thedeceased,hasgivenevidencetothesameeffect.

"Thefactsofthecasearesimple.SirCharlesBaskerville

wasinthehabiteverynightbeforegoingtobedofwalking

downthefamousyewalleyofBaskervilleHall.Theevidence

oftheBarrymoresshowsthatthishadbeenhiscustom.

OnthefourthofMaySirCharleshaddeclaredhisintention

ofstartingnextdayforLondon,andhadorderedBarrymore

topreparehisluggage.Thatnighthewentoutasusual

forhisnocturnalwalk,inthecourseofwhichhewasin

thehabitofsmokingacigar.Heneverreturned.At

twelveo'clockBarrymore,findingthehalldoorstillopen,

becamealarmed,and,lightingalantern,wentinsearch

ofhismaster.Thedayhadbeenwet,andSirCharles's

footmarkswereeasilytraceddownthealley.Halfwaydown

thiswalkthereisagatewhichleadsoutontothemoor.

TherewereindicationsthatSirCharleshadstoodforsome

littletimehere.Hethenproceededdownthealley,and

itwasatthefarendofitthathisbodywasdiscovered.

Onefactwhichhasnotbeenexplainedisthestatement

ofBarrymorethathismaster'sfootprintsalteredtheir

characterfromthetimethathepassedthemoor-gate,and

thatheappearedfromthenceonwardtohavebeenwalking

uponhistoes.OneMurphy,agipsyhorse-dealer,wason

themooratnogreatdistanceatthetime,butheappears

byhisownconfessiontohavebeentheworsefordrink.

Hedeclaresthatheheardcriesbutisunabletostate

fromwhatdirectiontheycame.Nosignsofviolencewere

tobediscovereduponSirCharles'sperson,andthough

thedoctor'sevidencepointedtoanalmostincredible

facialdistortion—sogreatthatDr.Mortimerrefusedat

firsttobelievethatitwasindeedhisfriendandpatient

wholaybeforehim—itwasexplainedthatthatisasymptom

whichisnotunusualincasesofdyspnoeaanddeathfrom

cardiacexhaustion.Thisexplanationwasborneoutby

thepost-mortemexamination,whichshowedlong-standing

organicdisease,andthecoroner'sjuryreturneda

verdictinaccordancewiththemedicalevidence.Itis

wellthatthisisso,foritisobviouslyoftheutmost

importancethatSirCharles'sheirshouldsettleatthe

Hallandcontinuethegoodworkwhichhasbeensosadly

interrupted.Hadtheprosaicfindingofthecoronernot

finallyputanendtotheromanticstorieswhichhavebeen

whisperedinconnectionwiththeaffair,itmighthavebeen

difficulttofindatenantforBaskervilleHall.Itis

understoodthatthenextofkinisMr.HenryBaskerville,

ifhebestillalive,thesonofSirCharlesBaskerville's

youngerbrother.Theyoungmanwhenlastheardofwas

inAmerica,andinquiriesarebeinginstitutedwitha

viewtoinforminghimofhisgoodfortune."

Dr.Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket. "Those are thepublicfacts,Mr.Holmes,inconnectionwiththedeathofSirCharlesBaskerville.""I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for callingmy attention to a case

whichcertainlypresentssomefeaturesofinterest.Ihadobservedsomenewspapercommentat the time,but Iwasexceedinglypreoccupiedby that littleaffairof theVatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with severalinterestingEnglishcases.Thisarticle,yousay,containsallthepublicfacts?""Itdoes.""Thenletmehavetheprivateones."Heleanedback,puthisfinger-tipstogether,

andassumedhismostimpassiveandjudicialexpression."Indoingso,"saidDr.Mortimer,whohadbeguntoshowsignsofsomestrong

emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided to anyone.Mymotive forwithholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a man of science shrinks fromplacinghimselfinthepublicpositionofseemingtoindorseapopularsuperstition.Ihad the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainlyremain untenanted if anything were done to increase its already rather grimreputation.ForboththesereasonsIthoughtthatIwasjustifiedintellingratherlessthanIknew,sincenopracticalgoodcouldresult fromit,butwithyou there isnoreasonwhyIshouldnotbeperfectlyfrank."Themoor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near each other are

thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good deal of Sir CharlesBaskerville.WiththeexceptionofMr.Frankland,ofLafterHall,andMr.Stapleton,thenaturalist, therearenoothermenofeducationwithinmanymiles.SirCharleswas a retiring man, but the chance of his illness brought us together, and acommunityofinterestsinsciencekeptusso.Hehadbroughtbackmuchscientificinformation from South Africa, and many a charming evening we have spenttogetherdiscussingthecomparativeanatomyoftheBushmanandtheHottentot."WithinthelastfewmonthsitbecameincreasinglyplaintomethatSirCharles's

nervoussystemwasstrainedtothebreakingpoint.HehadtakenthislegendwhichIhavereadyouexceedinglytoheart—somuchsothat,althoughhewouldwalkinhisown grounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at night.Incredibleas itmayappear toyou,Mr.Holmes,hewashonestlyconvinced thatadreadful fateoverhunghis family, andcertainly the recordswhichhewasable togive of his ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presenceconstantlyhauntedhim,andonmorethanoneoccasionhehasaskedmewhetherIhadonmymedical journeys at night ever seen any strange creature or heard thebayingofahound.Thelatterquestionheputtomeseveraltimes,andalwayswithavoicewhichvibratedwithexcitement."Icanwell rememberdrivingup tohishouse in theeveningsome threeweeks

beforethefatalevent.Hechancedtobeathishalldoor.Ihaddescendedfrommygigandwasstandinginfrontofhim,whenIsawhiseyesfixthemselvesovermyshoulder and stare past me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. I

whiskedroundandhadjusttimetocatchaglimpseofsomethingwhichItooktobea largeblackcalfpassingat theheadof thedrive.Soexcitedandalarmedwashethat Iwas compelled togodown to the spotwhere the animalhadbeen and lookaround for it. Itwas gone, however, and the incident appeared tomake theworstimpression upon his mind. I stayed with him all the evening, and it was on thatoccasion, to explain the emotion which he had shown, that he confided to mykeeping thatnarrativewhich I read toyouwhen first I came. Imention this smallepisodebecauseitassumessomeimportanceinviewofthetragedywhichfollowed,but I was convinced at the time that the matter was entirely trivial and that hisexcitementhadnojustification."ItwasatmyadvicethatSirCharleswasabouttogotoLondon.Hisheartwas,I

knew,affected,and theconstantanxiety inwhichhe lived,howeverchimerical thecauseofitmightbe,wasevidentlyhavingaseriouseffectuponhishealth.Ithoughtthatafewmonthsamongthedistractionsoftownwouldsendhimbackanewman.Mr.Stapleton,amutualfriendwhowasmuchconcernedathisstateofhealth,wasofthesameopinion.Atthelastinstantcamethisterriblecatastrophe."On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler, who made the

discovery,sentPerkinsthegroomonhorsebacktome,andasIwassittinguplateIwas able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of the event. I checked andcorroborated all the facts which were mentioned at the inquest. I followed thefootstepsdown theyewalley, I saw thespotat themoor-gatewhereheseemed tohavewaited,Iremarkedthechangeintheshapeoftheprintsafterthatpoint,InotedthattherewerenootherfootstepssavethoseofBarrymoreonthesoftgravel,andfinallyIcarefullyexaminedthebody,whichhadnotbeentoucheduntilmyarrival.SirCharles layonhis face,hisarmsout,his fingersdug into theground,andhisfeaturesconvulsedwithsomestrongemotion tosuchanextent that Icouldhardlyhavesworntohisidentity.Therewascertainlynophysicalinjuryofanykind.ButonefalsestatementwasmadebyBarrymoreattheinquest.Hesaidthattherewerenotracesuponthegroundroundthebody.Hedidnotobserveany.ButIdid—somelittledistanceoff,butfreshandclear.""Footprints?""Footprints.""Aman'sorawoman's?"Dr.Mortimerlookedstrangelyatusforaninstant,andhisvoicesankalmosttoa

whisperasheanswered."Mr.Holmes,theywerethefootprintsofagigantichound!"

Chapter3.TheProblemIconfessat thesewordsashudderpassed throughme.Therewasa thrill in the

doctor'svoicewhichshowedthathewashimselfdeeplymovedbythatwhichhetoldus.Holmesleanedforwardinhisexcitementandhiseyeshadthehard,dryglitterwhichshotfromthemwhenhewaskeenlyinterested."Yousawthis?""AsclearlyasIseeyou.""Andyousaidnothing?""Whatwastheuse?""Howwasitthatnooneelsesawit?""The marks were some twenty yards from the body and no one gave them a

thought.Idon'tsupposeIshouldhavedonesohadInotknownthislegend.""Therearemanysheep-dogsonthemoor?""Nodoubt,butthiswasnosheep-dog.""Yousayitwaslarge?""Enormous.""Butithadnotapproachedthebody?""No.""Whatsortofnightwasit?'"Dampandraw.""Butnotactuallyraining?""No.""Whatisthealleylike?""There are two linesofoldyewhedge, twelve feethighand impenetrable.The

walkinthecentreisabouteightfeetacross.""Isthereanythingbetweenthehedgesandthewalk?""Yes,thereisastripofgrassaboutsixfeetbroadoneitherside.""Iunderstandthattheyewhedgeispenetratedatonepointbyagate?""Yes,thewicket-gatewhichleadsontothemoor."

"Isthereanyotheropening?""None.""Sothattoreachtheyewalleyoneeitherhastocomedownitfromthehouseor

elsetoenteritbythemoor-gate?""Thereisanexitthroughasummer-houseatthefarend.""HadSirCharlesreachedthis?""No;helayaboutfiftyyardsfromit.""Now, tellme,Dr.Mortimer—and this is important—themarkswhichyou saw

wereonthepathandnotonthegrass?""Nomarkscouldshowonthegrass.""Weretheyonthesamesideofthepathasthemoor-gate?""Yes;theywereontheedgeofthepathonthesamesideasthemoor-gate.""Youinterestmeexceedingly.Anotherpoint.Wasthewicket-gateclosed?""Closedandpadlocked.""Howhighwasit?""Aboutfourfeethigh.""Thenanyonecouldhavegotoverit?""Yes.""Andwhatmarksdidyouseebythewicket-gate?""Noneinparticular.""Goodheaven!Didnooneexamine?""Yes,Iexamined,myself.""Andfoundnothing?""Itwas all very confused. SirCharles had evidently stood there for five or ten

minutes.""Howdoyouknowthat?""Becausetheashhadtwicedroppedfromhiscigar.""Excellent!Thisisacolleague,Watson,afterourownheart.Butthemarks?""Hehadlefthisownmarksalloverthatsmallpatchofgravel.Icoulddiscernno

others."SherlockHolmesstruckhishandagainsthiskneewithanimpatientgesture."If I had only been there!" he cried. "It is evidently a case of extraordinary

interest, and one which presented immense opportunities to the scientific expert.That gravel page uponwhich Imight have read somuch has been long ere thissmudged by the rain and defaced by the clogs of curious peasants. Oh, Dr.Mortimer,Dr.Mortimer, to thinkthatyoushouldnothavecalledmein!Youhave

indeedmuchtoanswerfor.""Icouldnotcallyouin,Mr.Holmes,withoutdisclosingthesefactstotheworld,

andIhavealreadygivenmyreasonsfornotwishingtodoso.Besides,besides—""Whydoyouhesitate?""Thereisarealminwhichthemostacuteandmostexperiencedofdetectivesis

helpless.""Youmeanthatthethingissupernatural?""Ididnotpositivelysayso.""No,butyouevidentlythinkit.""Since the tragedy,Mr. Holmes, there have come to my ears several incidents

whicharehardtoreconcilewiththesettledorderofNature.""Forexample?""Ifindthatbeforetheterribleeventoccurredseveralpeoplehadseenacreature

uponthemoorwhichcorrespondswiththisBaskervilledemon,andwhichcouldnotpossibly be any animal known to science. They all agreed that it was a hugecreature, luminous,ghastly,andspectral.Ihavecross-examinedthesemen,oneofthemahard-headedcountryman,oneafarrier,andoneamoorlandfarmer,whoalltell the same story of this dreadful apparition, exactly corresponding to the hell-houndof thelegend.Iassureyouthat there isareignof terror in thedistrict,andthatitisahardymanwhowillcrossthemooratnight.""Andyou,atrainedmanofscience,believeittobesupernatural?""Idonotknowwhattobelieve."Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "I have hitherto confinedmy investigations to

thisworld,"saidhe."InamodestwayIhavecombatedevil,buttotakeontheFatherofEvilhimselfwould,perhaps,betooambitiousatask.Yetyoumustadmitthatthefootmarkismaterial.""Theoriginal houndwasmaterial enough to tug aman's throat out, andyet he

wasdiabolicalaswell.""I see that you have quite gone over to the supernaturalists. But now, Dr.

Mortimer,tellmethis.Ifyouholdtheseviews,whyhaveyoucometoconsultmeatall?YoutellmeinthesamebreaththatitisuselesstoinvestigateSirCharles'sdeath,andthatyoudesiremetodoit.""IdidnotsaythatIdesiredyoutodoit.""Then,howcanIassistyou?""ByadvisingmeastowhatIshoulddowithSirHenryBaskerville,whoarrivesat

WaterlooStation"—Dr.Mortimerlookedathiswatch—"inexactlyonehourandaquarter."

"Hebeingtheheir?""Yes.OnthedeathofSirCharlesweinquiredforthisyounggentlemanandfound

thathehadbeenfarminginCanada.Fromtheaccountswhichhavereachedusheisanexcellentfellowineveryway.IspeaknownotasamedicalmanbutasatrusteeandexecutorofSirCharles'swill.""Thereisnootherclaimant,Ipresume?""None. The only other kinsmanwhomwe have been able to tracewasRodger

Baskerville,theyoungestofthreebrothersofwhompoorSirCharleswastheelder.The second brother, who died young, is the father of this lad Henry. The third,Rodger,wastheblacksheepofthefamily.HecameoftheoldmasterfulBaskervillestrainandwastheveryimage,theytellme,ofthefamilypictureofoldHugo.HemadeEnglandtoohottoholdhim,fledtoCentralAmerica,anddiedtherein1876ofyellowfever.HenryisthelastoftheBaskervilles.InonehourandfiveminutesImeethimatWaterlooStation.IhavehadawirethathearrivedatSouthamptonthismorning.Now,Mr.Holmes,whatwouldyouadvisemetodowithhim?""Whyshouldhenotgotothehomeofhisfathers?""Itseemsnatural,doesitnot?Andyet,considerthateveryBaskervillewhogoes

theremeetswithanevilfate.IfeelsurethatifSirCharlescouldhavespokenwithmebeforehisdeathhewouldhavewarnedmeagainstbringingthis,thelastoftheold race, and the heir to great wealth, to that deadly place. And yet it cannot bedenied that the prosperity of thewhole poor, bleak countryside depends upon hispresence.All thegoodworkwhichhasbeendonebySirCharleswillcrashtothegroundifthereisnotenantoftheHall.IfearlestIshouldbeswayedtoomuchbymyownobviousinterest inthematter,andthat iswhyIbringthecasebeforeyouandaskforyouradvice."Holmesconsideredforalittletime."Put into plain words, the matter is this," said he. "In your opinion there is a

diabolicalagencywhichmakesDartmooranunsafeabodeforaBaskerville—thatisyouropinion?""AtleastImightgothelengthofsayingthatthereissomeevidencethatthismay

beso.""Exactly. But surely, if your supernatural theory be correct, it could work the

youngman evil in London as easily as inDevonshire.A devilwithmerely localpowerslikeaparishvestrywouldbetooinconceivableathing.""Youputthemattermoreflippantly,Mr.Holmes,thanyouwouldprobablydoif

youwere brought into personal contactwith these things.Your advice, then, as Iunderstandit,isthattheyoungmanwillbeassafeinDevonshireasinLondon.Hecomesinfiftyminutes.Whatwouldyourecommend?""Irecommend,sir,thatyoutakeacab,calloffyourspanielwhoisscratchingat

myfrontdoor,andproceedtoWaterlootomeetSirHenryBaskerville.""Andthen?""AndthenyouwillsaynothingtohimatalluntilIhavemadeupmymindabout

thematter.""Howlongwillittakeyoutomakeupyourmind?""Twenty-four hours. At ten o'clock tomorrow, Dr. Mortimer, I will be much

obliged toyou if youwill call uponmehere, and itwill beof help tome inmyplansforthefutureifyouwillbringSirHenryBaskervillewithyou.""Iwill do so,Mr.Holmes."He scribbled the appointment on his shirt-cuff and

hurriedoff inhisstrange,peering,absent-mindedfashion.Holmesstoppedhimattheheadofthestair."Only one more question, Dr. Mortimer. You say that before Sir Charles

Baskerville'sdeathseveralpeoplesawthisapparitionuponthemoor?""Threepeopledid.""Didanyseeitafter?""Ihavenotheardofany.""Thankyou.Good-morning."Holmes returned to his seat with that quiet look of inward satisfaction which

meantthathehadacongenialtaskbeforehim."Goingout,Watson?""UnlessIcanhelpyou.""No,mydearfellow,itisatthehourofactionthatIturntoyouforaid.Butthisis

splendid,reallyuniquefromsomepointsofview.WhenyoupassBradley's,wouldyouaskhimtosendupapoundofthestrongestshagtobacco?Thankyou.Itwouldbe as well if you couldmake it convenient not to return before evening. Then Ishould be very glad to compare impressions as to thismost interesting problemwhichhasbeensubmittedtousthismorning."I knew that seclusion and solitudewere very necessary formy friend in those

hours of intensemental concentration duringwhich heweighed every particle ofevidence,constructedalternativetheories,balancedoneagainsttheother,andmadeup his mind as to which points were essential and which immaterial. I thereforespent the day atmy club and did not return to Baker Street until evening. It wasnearlynineo'clockwhenIfoundmyselfinthesitting-roomoncemore.MyfirstimpressionasIopenedthedoorwasthatafirehadbrokenout,forthe

roomwassofilledwithsmokethatthelightofthelampuponthetablewasblurredbyit.AsIentered,however,myfearsweresetatrest,foritwastheacridfumesofstrongcoarsetobaccowhichtookmebythethroatandsetmecoughing.Throughthe haze I had a vague vision of Holmes in his dressing-gown coiled up in an

armchairwithhisblackclaypipebetweenhislips.Severalrollsofpaperlayaroundhim."Caughtcold,Watson?"saidhe."No,it'sthispoisonousatmosphere.""Isupposeitisprettythick,nowthatyoumentionit.""Thick!Itisintolerable.""Openthewindow,then!Youhavebeenatyourcluballday,Iperceive.""MydearHolmes!""AmIright?""Certainly,buthow?"He laughedatmybewilderedexpression."There isadelightful freshnessabout

you, Watson, which makes it a pleasure to exercise any small powers which Ipossess at your expense.Agentlemangoes forth on a showery andmiry day.Hereturns immaculate in theeveningwith theglossstillonhishatandhisboots.Hehasbeenafixture thereforeallday.Heisnotamanwith intimatefriends.Where,then,couldhehavebeen?Isitnotobvious?""Well,itisratherobvious.""Theworldisfullofobviousthingswhichnobodybyanychanceeverobserves.

WheredoyouthinkthatIhavebeen?""Afixturealso.""Onthecontrary,IhavebeentoDevonshire.""Inspirit?""Exactly.My body has remained in this armchair and has, I regret to observe,

consumed in my absence two large pots of coffee and an incredible amount oftobacco. After you left I sent down to Stamford's for the Ordnance map of thisportionofthemoor,andmyspirithashoveredoveritallday.IflattermyselfthatIcouldfindmywayabout.""Alarge-scalemap,Ipresume?""Verylarge."Heunrolledonesectionandhelditoverhisknee."Hereyouhavetheparticular

districtwhichconcernsus.ThatisBaskervilleHallinthemiddle.""Withawoodroundit?""Exactly.Ifancytheyewalley,thoughnotmarkedunderthatname,muststretch

along this line, with the moor, as you perceive, upon the right of it. This smallclumpofbuildingshereisthehamletofGrimpen,whereourfriendDr.Mortimerhashisheadquarters.Withinaradiusoffivemilesthereare,asyousee,onlyaveryfewscattereddwellings.HereisLafterHall,whichwasmentionedinthenarrative.

There is a house indicated here which may be the residence of the naturalist—Stapleton, ifIrememberright,washisname.Herearetwomoorlandfarmhouses,High Tor and Foulmire. Then fourteen miles away the great convict prison ofPrincetown.Betweenandaroundthesescatteredpointsextendsthedesolate,lifelessmoor.This,then,isthestageuponwhichtragedyhasbeenplayed,anduponwhichwemayhelptoplayitagain.""Itmustbeawildplace.""Yes, the setting is a worthy one. If the devil did desire to have a hand in the

affairsofmen—""Thenyouareyourselfincliningtothesupernaturalexplanation.""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 any crime has beencommitted at all; the second is,what is the crime and howwas it committed?Ofcourse,ifDr.Mortimer'ssurmiseshouldbecorrect,andwearedealingwithforcesoutsidetheordinarylawsofNature,thereisanendofourinvestigation.Butweareboundtoexhaustallotherhypothesesbeforefallingbackuponthisone.Ithinkwe'llshut thatwindow again, if you don'tmind. It is a singular thing, but I find that aconcentratedatmospherehelpsaconcentrationofthought.Ihavenotpushedittothelength of getting into a box to think, but that is the logical outcome of myconvictions.Haveyouturnedthecaseoverinyourmind?""Yes,Ihavethoughtagooddealofitinthecourseoftheday.""Whatdoyoumakeofit?""Itisverybewildering.""It has certainly a character of its own.There arepointsof distinction about it.

Thatchangeinthefootprints,forexample.Whatdoyoumakeofthat?""Mortimersaidthatthemanhadwalkedontiptoedownthatportionofthealley.""Heonlyrepeatedwhatsomefoolhadsaidattheinquest.Whyshouldamanwalk

ontiptoedownthealley?""Whatthen?""He was running, Watson—running desperately, running for his life, running

untilhebursthisheart—andfelldeaduponhisface.""Runningfromwhat?""Thereliesourproblem.Thereareindicationsthatthemanwascrazedwithfear

beforeeverhebegantorun.""Howcanyousaythat?""Iampresumingthatthecauseofhisfearscametohimacrossthemoor.Ifthat

wereso,anditseemsmostprobable,onlyamanwhohadlosthiswitswouldhaverun from the house instead of towards it. If the gipsy's evidencemay be taken as

true, he ranwith cries for help in thedirectionwherehelpwas least likely to be.Then,again,whomwashewaitingforthatnight,andwhywashewaitingforhimintheyewalleyratherthaninhisownhouse?""Youthinkthathewaswaitingforsomeone?""Themanwaselderlyandinfirm.Wecanunderstandhistakinganeveningstroll,

butthegroundwasdampandthenightinclement.Is itnatural thatheshouldstandfor five or tenminutes, asDr.Mortimer,withmore practical sense than I shouldhavegivenhimcreditfor,deducedfromthecigarash?""Buthewentouteveryevening.""Ithinkitunlikelythathewaitedatthemoor-gateeveryevening.Onthecontrary,

theevidenceisthatheavoidedthemoor.Thatnighthewaitedthere.ItwasthenightbeforehemadehisdepartureforLondon.Thethingtakesshape,Watson.Itbecomescoherent.Might I askyou tohandmemyviolin, andwewillpostponeall furtherthoughtuponthisbusinessuntilwehavehadtheadvantageofmeetingDr.MortimerandSirHenryBaskervilleinthemorning."

Chapter4.SirHenryBaskervilleOurbreakfast tablewasclearedearly,andHolmeswaited inhisdressing-gown

forthepromisedinterview.Ourclientswerepunctualtotheirappointment,fortheclockhadjuststrucktenwhenDr.Mortimerwasshownup,followedbytheyoungbaronet.Thelatterwasasmall,alert,dark-eyedmanaboutthirtyyearsofage,verysturdilybuilt,withthickblackeyebrowsandastrong,pugnaciousface.Heworearuddy-tintedtweedsuitandhadtheweather-beatenappearanceofonewhohasspentmostofhistimeintheopenair,andyettherewassomethinginhissteadyeyeandthequietassuranceofhisbearingwhichindicatedthegentleman."ThisisSirHenryBaskerville,"saidDr.Mortimer."Why,yes," saidhe, "and the strange thing is,Mr.SherlockHolmes, that ifmy

friendherehadnotproposedcomingroundtoyouthismorningIshouldhavecomeonmyownaccount.Iunderstandthatyouthinkoutlittlepuzzles,andI'vehadonethismorningwhichwantsmorethinkingoutthanIamabletogiveit.""Pray takea seat,SirHenry.Do Iunderstandyou to say thatyouhaveyourself

hadsomeremarkableexperiencesinceyouarrivedinLondon?""Nothingofmuchimportance,Mr.Holmes.Onlyajoke,aslikeasnot.Itwasthis

letter,ifyoucancallitaletter,whichreachedmethismorning."He laid an envelope upon the table, andwe all bent over it. Itwas of common

quality, grayish in colour. The address, "Sir Henry Baskerville, NorthumberlandHotel," was printed in rough characters; the post-mark "Charing Cross," and thedateofpostingtheprecedingevening."Whoknew thatyouweregoing to theNorthumberlandHotel?"askedHolmes,

glancingkeenlyacrossatourvisitor."Noonecouldhaveknown.WeonlydecidedafterImetDr.Mortimer.""ButDr.Mortimerwasnodoubtalreadystoppingthere?""No,Ihadbeenstayingwithafriend,"saidthedoctor."Therewasnopossibleindicationthatweintendedtogotothishotel.""Hum!Someoneseemstobeverydeeplyinterestedinyourmovements."Outof

theenvelopehetookahalf-sheetoffoolscappaperfoldedintofour.Thisheopenedand spread flat upon the table.Across themiddleof it a single sentencehadbeenformedbytheexpedientofpastingprintedwordsuponit.Itran:Asyouvalueyourlifeoryourreasonkeepawayfromthemoor.

Theword"moor"onlywasprintedinink."Now,"saidSirHenryBaskerville,"perhapsyouwilltellme,Mr.Holmes,what

in thunder is themeaningof that, andwho it is that takes somuch interest inmyaffairs?""What do youmake of it, Dr.Mortimer?Youmust allow that there is nothing

supernaturalaboutthis,atanyrate?""No,sir,butitmightverywellcomefromsomeonewhowasconvincedthatthe

businessissupernatural.""Whatbusiness?"askedSirHenrysharply."Itseemstomethatallyougentlemen

knowagreatdealmorethanIdoaboutmyownaffairs.""Youshallshareourknowledgebeforeyouleavethisroom,SirHenry.Ipromise

you that," said SherlockHolmes. "Wewill confine ourselves for the presentwithyour permission to this very interesting document, which must have been puttogetherandpostedyesterdayevening.Haveyouyesterday'sTimes,Watson?""Itishereinthecorner.""MightItroubleyouforit—theinsidepage,please,withtheleadingarticles?"He

glancedswiftlyoverit,runninghiseyesupanddownthecolumns."Capitalarticlethisonfreetrade.Permitmetogiveyouanextractfromit.'Youmaybecajoledintoimaginingthatyourownspecial

tradeoryourownindustrywillbeencouragedbya

protectivetariff,butitstandstoreasonthatsuch

legislationmustinthelongrunkeepawaywealthfromthe

country,diminishthevalueofourimports,andlowerthe

generalconditionsoflifeinthisisland.'

"What do you think of that,Watson?" cried Holmes in high glee, rubbing hishandstogetherwithsatisfaction."Don'tyouthinkthatisanadmirablesentiment?"Dr. Mortimer looked at Holmes with an air of professional interest, and Sir

HenryBaskervilleturnedapairofpuzzleddarkeyesuponme."Idon'tknowmuchaboutthetariffandthingsofthatkind,"saidhe,"butitseems

tomewe'vegotabitoffthetrailsofarasthatnoteisconcerned.""Onthecontrary,Ithinkweareparticularlyhotuponthetrail,SirHenry.Watson

hereknowsmoreaboutmymethodsthanyoudo,butIfearthatevenhehasnotquitegraspedthesignificanceofthissentence.""No,IconfessthatIseenoconnection.""And yet, my dearWatson, there is so very close a connection that the one is

extracted out of the other. 'You,' 'your,' 'your,' 'life,' 'reason,' 'value,' 'keep away,''fromthe.'Don'tyouseenowwhencethesewordshavebeentaken?""Bythunder,you'reright!Well,ifthatisn'tsmart!"criedSirHenry."Ifanypossibledoubtremaineditissettledbythefactthat'keepaway'and'from

the'arecutoutinonepiece.""Well,now—soitis!""Really,Mr.Holmes, this exceeds anythingwhich I could have imagined," said

Dr.Mortimer,gazingatmyfriendinamazement."Icouldunderstandanyonesayingthatthewordswerefromanewspaper;butthatyoushouldnamewhich,andaddthatitcamefromtheleadingarticle,isreallyoneofthemostremarkablethingswhichIhaveeverknown.Howdidyoudoit?""I presume, Doctor, that you could tell the skull of a negro from that of an

Esquimau?""Mostcertainly.""Buthow?""Becausethatismyspecialhobby.Thedifferencesareobvious.Thesupra-orbital

crest,thefacialangle,themaxillarycurve,the—""Butthisismyspecialhobby,andthedifferencesareequallyobvious.Thereisas

muchdifference tomyeyesbetween the leadedbourgeois typeofaTimesarticleand the slovenly print of an evening half-penny paper as there could be betweenyour negro and your Esquimau. The detection of types is one of the mostelementarybranchesofknowledgetothespecialexpertincrime,thoughIconfessthat oncewhen Iwas very young I confused theLeedsMercurywith theWesternMorningNews. But a Times leader is entirely distinctive, and thesewords couldhavebeentakenfromnothingelse.Asitwasdoneyesterdaythestrongprobabilitywasthatweshouldfindthewordsinyesterday'sissue.""So far as I can follow you, then, Mr. Holmes," said Sir Henry Baskerville,

"someonecutoutthismessagewithascissors—""Nail-scissors," said Holmes. "You can see that it was a very short-bladed

scissors,sincethecutterhadtotaketwosnipsover'keepaway.'""That is so. Someone, then, cut out the message with a pair of short-bladed

scissors,pasteditwithpaste—""Gum,"saidHolmes."Withgumontothepaper.ButIwanttoknowwhytheword'moor'shouldhave

beenwritten?""Becausehecouldnotfinditinprint.Theotherwordswereallsimpleandmight

befoundinanyissue,but'moor'wouldbelesscommon.""Why, of course, that would explain it. Have you read anything else in this

message,Mr.Holmes?""There are oneor two indications, andyet theutmost pains havebeen taken to

removeallclues.Theaddress,youobserveisprintedinroughcharacters.But theTimes is a paper which is seldom found in any hands but those of the highlyeducated.Wemaytakeit,therefore,thattheletterwascomposedbyaneducatedmanwhowishedtoposeasanuneducatedone,andhisefforttoconcealhisownwritingsuggeststhatthatwritingmightbeknown,orcometobeknown,byyou.Again,you

willobservethatthewordsarenotgummedoninanaccurateline,butthatsomearemuchhigher thanothers. 'Life,' for example is quite out of its proper place.Thatmaypointtocarelessnessoritmaypointtoagitationandhurryuponthepartofthecutter. On the whole I incline to the latter view, since the matter was evidentlyimportant,anditisunlikelythatthecomposerofsuchaletterwouldbecareless.Ifhewereinahurryitopensuptheinterestingquestionwhyheshouldbeinahurry,sinceanyletterposteduptoearlymorningwouldreachSirHenrybeforehewouldleavehishotel.Didthecomposerfearaninterruption—andfromwhom?""Wearecomingnowratherintotheregionofguesswork,"saidDr.Mortimer."Say,rather,intotheregionwherewebalanceprobabilitiesandchoosethemost

likely.Itisthescientificuseoftheimagination,butwehavealwayssomematerialbasisonwhichtostartourspeculation.Now,youwouldcallitaguess,nodoubt,butIamalmostcertainthatthisaddresshasbeenwritteninahotel.""Howintheworldcanyousaythat?""Ifyouexamineitcarefullyyouwillseethatboththepenandtheinkhavegiven

thewriter trouble.The pen has spluttered twice in a singleword and has run drythree times in a short address, showing that therewasvery little ink in thebottle.Now, a private pen or ink-bottle is seldom allowed to be in such a state, and thecombinationofthetwomustbequiterare.Butyouknowthehotelinkandthehotelpen,whereitisraretogetanythingelse.Yes,Ihaveverylittlehesitationinsayingthatcouldweexaminethewaste-paperbasketsofthehotelsaroundCharingCrossuntilwe found the remainsof themutilatedTimes leaderwecould layourhandsstraight upon the person who sent this singular message. Halloa! Halloa!What'sthis?"He was carefully examining the foolscap, upon which the words were pasted,

holdingitonlyaninchortwofromhiseyes."Well?""Nothing," saidhe, throwing it down. "It is ablankhalf-sheetofpaper,without

even a water-mark upon it. I think we have drawn as much as we can from thiscurious letter; and now, SirHenry, has anything else of interest happened to yousinceyouhavebeeninLondon?""Why,no,Mr.Holmes.Ithinknot.""Youhavenotobservedanyonefolloworwatchyou?""I seem to havewalked right into the thick of a dime novel," said our visitor.

"Whyinthundershouldanyonefolloworwatchme?""Wearecomingtothat.Youhavenothingelsetoreporttousbeforewegointo

thismatter?""Well,itdependsuponwhatyouthinkworthreporting."

"Ithinkanythingoutoftheordinaryroutineoflifewellworthreporting."SirHenrysmiled."Idon'tknowmuchofBritishlifeyet,forIhavespentnearly

allmytimeintheStatesandinCanada.ButIhopethattoloseoneofyourbootsisnotpartoftheordinaryroutineoflifeoverhere.""Youhavelostoneofyourboots?""Mydearsir,"criedDr.Mortimer,"itisonlymislaid.Youwillfinditwhenyou

return to the hotel. What is the use of troubling Mr. Holmes with trifles of thiskind?""Well,heaskedmeforanythingoutsidetheordinaryroutine.""Exactly," saidHolmes, "however foolish the incidentmayseem.Youhave lost

oneofyourboots,yousay?""Well,mislaid it, anyhow. Iput thembothoutsidemydoor lastnight,and there

wasonlyoneinthemorning.Icouldgetnosenseoutofthechapwhocleansthem.TheworstofitisthatIonlyboughtthepairlastnightintheStrand,andIhaveneverhadthemon.""Ifyouhaveneverwornthem,whydidyouputthemouttobecleaned?""Theyweretanbootsandhadneverbeenvarnished.ThatwaswhyIputthemout.""ThenIunderstandthatonyourarrivalinLondonyesterdayyouwentoutatonce

andboughtapairofboots?""Ididagooddealofshopping.Dr.Mortimerherewentroundwithme.Yousee,

ifIamtobesquiredownthereImustdressthepart,anditmaybethatIhavegotalittlecarelessinmywaysoutWest.AmongotherthingsIboughtthesebrownboots—gave six dollars for them—and had one stolen before ever I had them onmyfeet.""It seems a singularly useless thing to steal," said SherlockHolmes. "I confess

thatIshareDr.Mortimer'sbeliefthatitwillnotbelongbeforethemissingbootisfound.""And,now,gentlemen,"saidthebaronetwithdecision,"itseemstomethatIhave

spokenquiteenoughaboutthelittlethatIknow.Itistimethatyoukeptyourpromiseandgavemeafullaccountofwhatwearealldrivingat.""Yourrequestisaveryreasonableone,"Holmesanswered."Dr.Mortimer,Ithink

youcouldnotdobetterthantotellyourstoryasyoutoldittous."Thus encouraged, our scientific friend drew his papers from his pocket and

presented the whole case as he had done upon the morning before. Sir HenryBaskervillelistenedwiththedeepestattentionandwithanoccasionalexclamationofsurprise."Well,Iseemtohavecomeintoaninheritancewithavengeance,"saidhewhen

thelongnarrativewasfinished."Ofcourse,I'veheardofthehoundeversinceIwas

in the nursery. It's the pet story of the family, though I never thought of taking itseriously before.But as tomy uncle's death—well, it all seems boiling up inmyhead,andIcan'tget itclearyet.Youdon'tseemquite tohavemadeupyourmindwhetherit'sacaseforapolicemanoraclergyman.""Precisely.""Andnowthere'sthisaffairofthelettertomeatthehotel.Isupposethatfitsinto

itsplace.""Itseemstoshowthatsomeoneknowsmorethanwedoaboutwhatgoesonupon

themoor,"saidDr.Mortimer."And also," said Holmes, "that someone is not ill-disposed towards you, since

theywarnyouofdanger.""Oritmaybethattheywish,fortheirownpurposes,toscaremeaway.""Well, of course, that is possible also. I am very much indebted to you, Dr.

Mortimer, for introducing me to a problem which presents several interestingalternatives. But the practical point which we now have to decide, Sir Henry, iswhetheritisorisnotadvisableforyoutogotoBaskervilleHall.""WhyshouldInotgo?""Thereseemstobedanger.""Doyoumeandangerfromthisfamilyfiendordoyoumeandangerfromhuman

beings?""Well,thatiswhatwehavetofindout.""Whicheveritis,myanswerisfixed.Thereisnodevilinhell,Mr.Holmes,and

thereisnomanuponearthwhocanpreventmefromgoingtothehomeofmyownpeople,andyoumaytakethattobemyfinalanswer."Hisdarkbrowsknittedandhisfaceflushedtoaduskyredashespoke.Itwasevident that thefiery temperof theBaskervilleswasnotextinctinthistheirlastrepresentative."Meanwhile,"saidhe,"Ihavehardlyhad timeto thinkoverall thatyouhave toldme. It'sabig thingforamantohavetounderstandandtodecideatonesitting.Ishouldliketohaveaquiethour bymyself tomake upmymind.Now, look here,Mr.Holmes, it's half-pasteleven now and I am going back right away tomy hotel. Suppose you and yourfriend,Dr.Watson,comeroundandlunchwithusattwo.I'llbeabletotellyoumoreclearlythenhowthisthingstrikesme.""Isthatconvenienttoyou,Watson?""Perfectly.""Thenyoumayexpectus.ShallIhaveacabcalled?""I'dprefertowalk,forthisaffairhasflurriedmerather.""I'lljoinyouinawalk,withpleasure,"saidhiscompanion."Thenwemeetagainattwoo'clock.Aurevoir,andgood-morning!"

Weheardthestepsofourvisitorsdescendthestairandthebangofthefrontdoor.InaninstantHolmeshadchangedfromthelanguiddreamertothemanofaction."Yourhatandboots,Watson,quick!Notamoment to lose!"He rushed intohis

roominhisdressing-gownandwasbackagaininafewsecondsinafrock-coat.Wehurried togetherdown the stairs and into the street.Dr.Mortimer andBaskervillewere still visible about twohundredyards aheadofus in thedirectionofOxfordStreet."ShallIrunonandstopthem?""Notfortheworld,mydearWatson.Iamperfectlysatisfiedwithyourcompanyif

youwilltoleratemine.Ourfriendsarewise,foritiscertainlyaveryfinemorningforawalk."Hequickenedhis paceuntilwehaddecreased thedistancewhichdividedusby

about half. Then, still keeping a hundred yards behind, we followed intoOxfordStreetandsodownRegentStreet.Onceourfriendsstoppedandstaredintoashopwindow,uponwhichHolmesdidthesame.Aninstantafterwardshegavealittlecryofsatisfaction,and,followingthedirectionofhiseagereyes,Isawthatahansomcab with a man inside which had halted on the other side of the street was nowproceedingslowlyonwardagain."There'sourman,Watson!Comealong!We'llhaveagoodlookathim,ifwecan

donomore."At that instant Iwas aware of a bushy black beard and a pair of piercing eyes

turneduponusthroughthesidewindowofthecab.Instantlythetrapdooratthetopflewup, somethingwas screamed to thedriver, and the cab flewmadlyoffdownRegentStreet.Holmeslookedeagerlyroundforanother,butnoemptyonewasinsight.Thenhedashedinwildpursuitamidthestreamofthetraffic,butthestartwastoogreat,andalreadythecabwasoutofsight."Therenow!"saidHolmesbitterlyasheemergedpantingandwhitewithvexation

fromthetideofvehicles."Waseversuchbadluckandsuchbadmanagement,too?Watson,Watson,ifyouareanhonestmanyouwillrecordthisalsoandsetitagainstmysuccesses!""Whowastheman?""Ihavenotanidea.""Aspy?""Well, it was evident fromwhat we have heard that Baskerville has been very

closely shadowed by someone since he has been in town. How else could it beknownsoquicklythatitwastheNorthumberlandHotelwhichhehadchosen?IftheyhadfollowedhimthefirstdayIarguedthattheywouldfollowhimalsothesecond.YoumayhaveobservedthatItwicestrolledovertothewindowwhileDr.Mortimer

wasreadinghislegend.""Yes,Iremember.""Iwaslookingoutforloiterersinthestreet,butIsawnone.Wearedealingwitha

cleverman,Watson.Thismattercutsverydeep,andthoughIhavenotfinallymadeupmymindwhetheritisabenevolentoramalevolentagencywhichisintouchwithus, I am conscious always of power and design.When our friends left I at oncefollowedtheminthehopesofmarkingdowntheirinvisibleattendant.Sowilywashethathehadnottrustedhimselfuponfoot,buthehadavailedhimselfofacabsothathecouldloiterbehindordashpastthemandsoescapetheirnotice.Hismethodhadtheadditionaladvantagethatiftheyweretotakeacabhewasallreadytofollowthem.Ithas,however,oneobviousdisadvantage.""Itputshiminthepowerofthecabman.""Exactly.""Whatapitywedidnotgetthenumber!""MydearWatson,clumsyasIhavebeen,yousurelydonotseriouslyimaginethat

Ineglectedtogetthenumber?No.2704isourman.Butthatisnousetousforthemoment.""Ifailtoseehowyoucouldhavedonemore.""On observing the cab I should have instantly turned and walked in the other

direction.Ishouldthenatmyleisurehavehiredasecondcabandfollowedthefirstatarespectfuldistance,or,betterstill,havedriventotheNorthumberlandHotelandwaited there.Whenour unknownhad followedBaskerville homewe should havehad the opportunity of playing his own game upon himself and seeingwhere hemade for.As it is, by an indiscreet eagerness,whichwas taken advantageofwithextraordinaryquicknessandenergybyouropponent,wehavebetrayedourselvesandlostourman."WehadbeensaunteringslowlydownRegentStreetduringthisconversation,and

Dr.Mortimer,withhiscompanion,hadlongvanishedinfrontofus."There is no object in our following them," said Holmes. "The shadow has

departedandwillnotreturn.Wemustseewhatfurthercardswehaveinourhandsandplaythemwithdecision.Couldyousweartothatman'sfacewithinthecab?""Icouldswearonlytothebeard.""AndsocouldI—fromwhichIgatherthatinallprobabilityitwasafalseone.A

clevermanuponsodelicateanerrandhasnouse forabeardsave toconcealhisfeatures.Comeinhere,Watson!"He turned into one of the district messenger offices, where he was warmly

greetedbythemanager."Ah,Wilson,IseeyouhavenotforgottenthelittlecaseinwhichIhadthegood

fortunetohelpyou?""No,sir,indeedIhavenot.Yousavedmygoodname,andperhapsmylife.""Mydearfellow,youexaggerate.Ihavesomerecollection,Wilson,thatyouhad

among your boys a lad named Cartwright, who showed some ability during theinvestigation.""Yes,sir,heisstillwithus.""Couldyouringhimup?—thankyou!AndIshouldbegladtohavechangeofthis

five-poundnote."A lad of fourteen, with a bright, keen face, had obeyed the summons of the

manager.Hestoodnowgazingwithgreatreverenceatthefamousdetective."Letmehave theHotelDirectory," saidHolmes. "Thankyou!Now,Cartwright,

therearethenamesoftwenty-threehotelshere,allintheimmediateneighbourhoodofCharingCross.Doyousee?""Yes,sir.""Youwillvisiteachoftheseinturn.""Yes,sir.""Youwillbeginineachcasebygivingtheoutsideporteroneshilling.Hereare

twenty-threeshillings.""Yes,sir.""Youwilltellhimthatyouwanttoseethewaste-paperofyesterday.Youwillsay

that an important telegram has miscarried and that you are looking for it. Youunderstand?""Yes,sir.""Butwhatyouarereally lookingfor is thecentrepageof theTimeswithsome

holescutinitwithscissors.HereisacopyoftheTimes.Itisthispage.Youcouldeasilyrecognizeit,couldyounot?""Yes,sir.""Ineachcase theoutsideporterwillsendfor thehallporter, towhomalsoyou

willgiveashilling.Herearetwenty-threeshillings.Youwillthenlearninpossiblytwentycasesoutofthetwenty-threethatthewasteofthedaybeforehasbeenburnedorremoved.Inthethreeothercasesyouwillbeshownaheapofpaperandyouwilllook for thispageof theTimesamong it.Theoddsareenormouslyagainstyourfindingit.Therearetenshillingsoverincaseofemergencies.LetmehaveareportbywireatBakerStreetbeforeevening.Andnow,Watson,itonlyremainsforustofindoutbywiretheidentityofthecabman,No.2704,andthenwewilldropintooneoftheBondStreetpicturegalleriesandfillinthetimeuntilwearedueatthehotel."

Chapter5.ThreeBrokenThreadsSherlockHolmeshad, inavery remarkabledegree, thepowerofdetachinghis

mind at will. For two hours the strange business inwhichwe had been involvedappearedtobeforgotten,andhewasentirelyabsorbedinthepicturesofthemodernBelgianmasters.Hewouldtalkofnothingbutart,ofwhichhehadthecrudestideas,fromourleavingthegalleryuntilwefoundourselvesattheNorthumberlandHotel."SirHenryBaskervilleisupstairsexpectingyou,"saidtheclerk."Heaskedmeto

showyouupatoncewhenyoucame.""Haveyouanyobjectiontomylookingatyourregister?"saidHolmes."Notintheleast."Thebookshowed that twonameshadbeenaddedafter thatofBaskerville.One

was Theophilus Johnson and family, of Newcastle; the other Mrs. Oldmore andmaid,ofHighLodge,Alton."SurelythatmustbethesameJohnsonwhomIusedtoknow,"saidHolmestothe

porter."Alawyer,ishenot,gray-headed,andwalkswithalimp?""No,sir, this isMr.Johnson, thecoal-owner,averyactivegentleman,notolder

thanyourself.""Surelyyouaremistakenabouthistrade?""No,sir!hehasusedthishotelformanyyears,andheisverywellknowntous.""Ah,thatsettlesit.Mrs.Oldmore,too;Iseemtorememberthename.Excusemy

curiosity,butoftenincallingupononefriendonefindsanother.""She is an invalid lady, sir. Her husband was once mayor of Gloucester. She

alwayscomestouswhensheisintown.""Thankyou;IamafraidIcannotclaimheracquaintance.Wehaveestablisheda

mostimportantfactbythesequestions,Watson,"hecontinuedinalowvoiceaswewentupstairstogether."Weknownowthatthepeoplewhoaresointerestedinourfriendhavenotsettleddowninhisownhotel.Thatmeansthatwhiletheyare,aswehaveseen,veryanxious towatchhim, theyareequallyanxious thatheshouldnotseethem.Now,thisisamostsuggestivefact.""Whatdoesitsuggest?""Itsuggests—halloa,mydearfellow,whatonearthisthematter?"As we came round the top of the stairs we had run up against Sir Henry

Baskervillehimself.Hisfacewasflushedwithanger,andheheldanoldanddustybootinoneofhishands.Sofuriouswashethathewashardlyarticulate,andwhen

hedidspeakitwasinamuchbroaderandmoreWesterndialectthananywhichwehadheardfromhiminthemorning."Seemstometheyareplayingmeforasucker in thishotel,"hecried."They'll

find they've started in tomonkeywith thewrongmanunless they are careful.Bythunder, if that chapcan't findmymissingboot therewillbe trouble. I can takeajokewiththebest,Mr.Holmes,butthey'vegotabitoverthemarkthistime.""Stilllookingforyourboot?""Yes,sir,andmeantofindit.""But,surely,yousaidthatitwasanewbrownboot?""Soitwas,sir.Andnowit'sanoldblackone.""What!youdon'tmeantosay—?""That's justwhat Idomeantosay. Ionlyhad threepairs in theworld—thenew

brown, theoldblack, and thepatent leathers,which I amwearing.Lastnight theytookoneofmybrownones, and today theyhave sneakedoneof theblack.Well,haveyougotit?Speakout,man,anddon'tstandstaring!"AnagitatedGermanwaiterhadappeareduponthescene."No,sir;Ihavemadeinquiryalloverthehotel,butIcanhearnowordofit.""Well,eitherthatbootcomesbackbeforesundownorI'llseethemanagerandtell

himthatIgorightstraightoutofthishotel.""Itshallbefound,sir—Ipromiseyouthatifyouwillhavealittlepatienceitwill

befound.""Minditis,forit'sthelastthingofminethatI'llloseinthisdenofthieves.Well,

well,Mr.Holmes,you'llexcusemytroublingyouaboutsuchatrifle—""Ithinkit'swellworthtroublingabout.""Why,youlookveryseriousoverit.""Howdoyouexplainit?""I just don't attempt to explain it. It seems the verymaddest, queerest thing that

everhappenedtome.""Thequeerestperhaps—"saidHolmesthoughtfully."Whatdoyoumakeofityourself?""Well,Idon'tprofesstounderstandityet.Thiscaseofyoursisverycomplex,Sir

Henry.Whentakeninconjunctionwithyouruncle'sdeathIamnotsurethatofallthefivehundredcasesofcapitalimportancewhichIhavehandledthereisonewhichcutssodeep.Butweholdseveralthreadsinourhands,andtheoddsarethatoneorotherofthemguidesustothetruth.Wemaywastetimeinfollowingthewrongone,butsoonerorlaterwemustcomeupontheright."We had a pleasant luncheon inwhich littlewas said of the businesswhich had

brought us together. It was in the private sitting-room to which we afterwardsrepairedthatHolmesaskedBaskervillewhatwerehisintentions."TogotoBaskervilleHall.""Andwhen?""Attheendoftheweek.""On thewhole," saidHolmes, "I think that your decision is awise one. I have

ampleevidencethatyouarebeingdoggedinLondon,andamidthemillionsofthisgreatcityitisdifficulttodiscoverwhothesepeopleareorwhattheirobjectcanbe.Iftheirintentionsareeviltheymightdoyouamischief,andweshouldbepowerlesstopreventit.Youdidnotknow,Dr.Mortimer,thatyouwerefollowedthismorningfrommyhouse?"Dr.Mortimerstartedviolently."Followed!Bywhom?""That,unfortunately,iswhatIcannottellyou.Haveyouamongyourneighbours

oracquaintancesonDartmooranymanwithablack,fullbeard?""No—or,letmesee—why,yes.Barrymore,SirCharles'sbutler,isamanwitha

full,blackbeard.""Ha!WhereisBarrymore?""HeisinchargeoftheHall.""Wehadbestascertainifheisreallythere,orifbyanypossibilityhemightbein

London.""Howcanyoudothat?""Givemeatelegraphform.'IsallreadyforSirHenry?'Thatwilldo.Addressto

Mr. Barrymore, Baskerville Hall.What is the nearest telegraph-office? Grimpen.Verygood,wewillsendasecondwiretothepostmaster,Grimpen:'TelegramtoMr.Barrymore to be delivered into his ownhand. If absent, please returnwire toSirHenryBaskerville,NorthumberlandHotel.'ThatshouldletusknowbeforeeveningwhetherBarrymoreisathispostinDevonshireornot.""That'sso,"saidBaskerville."Bytheway,Dr.Mortimer,whoisthisBarrymore,

anyhow?""Heisthesonoftheoldcaretaker,whoisdead.TheyhavelookedaftertheHall

for four generations now. So far as I know, he and hiswife are as respectable acoupleasanyinthecounty.""Atthesametime,"saidBaskerville,"it'sclearenoughthatsolongasthereare

noneofthefamilyattheHallthesepeoplehaveamightyfinehomeandnothingtodo.""Thatistrue.""DidBarrymoreprofitatallbySirCharles'swill?"askedHolmes.

"Heandhiswifehadfivehundredpoundseach.""Ha!Didtheyknowthattheywouldreceivethis?""Yes;SirCharleswasveryfondoftalkingabouttheprovisionsofhiswill.""Thatisveryinteresting.""I hope," said Dr. Mortimer, "that you do not look with suspicious eyes upon

everyonewhoreceivedalegacyfromSirCharles,forIalsohadathousandpoundslefttome.""Indeed!Andanyoneelse?""Thereweremanyinsignificantsumstoindividuals,andalargenumberofpublic

charities.TheresidueallwenttoSirHenry.""Andhowmuchwastheresidue?""Sevenhundredandfortythousandpounds."Holmesraisedhiseyebrowsinsurprise."Ihadnoideathatsogiganticasumwas

involved,"saidhe."SirCharleshadthereputationofbeingrich,butwedidnotknowhowveryrich

hewas untilwe came to examine his securities. The total value of the estatewascloseontoamillion.""Dearme! It isastakeforwhichamanmightwellplayadesperategame.And

onemorequestion,Dr.Mortimer.Supposingthatanythinghappenedtoouryoungfriend here—youwill forgive the unpleasant hypothesis!—whowould inherit theestate?""Since Rodger Baskerville, Sir Charles's younger brother died unmarried, the

estatewoulddescendtotheDesmonds,whoaredistantcousins.JamesDesmondisanelderlyclergymaninWestmoreland.""Thank you. These details are all of great interest. Have you met Mr. James

Desmond?""Yes; he once came down to visit Sir Charles. He is a man of venerable

appearanceandofsaintly life.I remember thatherefusedtoacceptanysettlementfromSirCharles,thoughhepressedituponhim.""AndthismanofsimpletasteswouldbetheheirtoSirCharles'sthousands.""Hewouldbetheheirtotheestatebecausethatisentailed.Hewouldalsobethe

heirtothemoneyunlessitwerewilledotherwisebythepresentowner,whocan,ofcourse,dowhathelikeswithit.""Andhaveyoumadeyourwill,SirHenry?""No,Mr.Holmes, I have not. I've had no time, for itwas only yesterday that I

learnedhowmattersstood.ButinanycaseIfeelthatthemoneyshouldgowiththetitleandestate.Thatwasmypooruncle's idea.Howis theownergoingtorestore

thegloriesoftheBaskervillesifhehasnotmoneyenoughtokeepuptheproperty?House,land,anddollarsmustgotogether.""Quite so.Well,SirHenry, I amofonemindwithyouas to theadvisabilityof

yourgoingdowntoDevonshirewithoutdelay.ThereisonlyoneprovisionwhichImustmake.Youcertainlymustnotgoalone.""Dr.Mortimerreturnswithme.""ButDr.Mortimerhashispracticetoattendto,andhishouseismilesawayfrom

yours.With all the goodwill in theworld hemay be unable to help you.No, SirHenry,youmusttakewithyousomeone,atrustyman,whowillbealwaysbyyourside.""Isitpossiblethatyoucouldcomeyourself,Mr.Holmes?""IfmatterscametoacrisisIshouldendeavour tobepresent inperson;butyou

can understand that, with my extensive consulting practice and with the constantappealswhich reachme frommanyquarters, it is impossible forme tobeabsentfromLondonforanindefinitetime.Atthepresentinstantoneofthemostreverednames in England is being besmirched by a blackmailer, and only I can stop adisastrousscandal.YouwillseehowimpossibleitisformetogotoDartmoor.""Whomwouldyourecommend,then?"Holmeslaidhishanduponmyarm."Ifmyfriendwouldundertakeitthereisno

manwhoisbetterworthhavingatyoursidewhenyouareinatightplace.NoonecansaysomoreconfidentlythanI."Thepropositiontookmecompletelybysurprise,butbeforeIhadtimetoanswer,

Baskervilleseizedmebythehandandwrungitheartily."Well,now,thatisrealkindofyou,Dr.Watson,"saidhe."Youseehowitiswith

me,andyouknowjustasmuchaboutthematterasIdo.IfyouwillcomedowntoBaskervilleHallandseemethroughI'llneverforgetit."The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was

complimentedbythewordsofHolmesandbytheeagernesswithwhichthebaronethailedmeasacompanion."Iwillcome,withpleasure,"saidI."IdonotknowhowIcouldemploymytime

better.""Andyouwillreportverycarefullytome,"saidHolmes."Whenacrisiscomes,

asitwilldo,Iwilldirecthowyoushallact.IsupposethatbySaturdayallmightbeready?""WouldthatsuitDr.Watson?""Perfectly.""ThenonSaturday,unlessyouheartothecontrary,weshallmeetattheten-thirty

trainfromPaddington."

WehadrisentodepartwhenBaskervillegaveacry,oftriumph,anddivingintooneofthecornersoftheroomhedrewabrownbootfromunderacabinet."Mymissingboot!"hecried."Mayallourdifficultiesvanishaseasily!"saidSherlockHolmes."But it isaverysingular thing,"Dr.Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room

carefullybeforelunch.""AndsodidI,"saidBaskerville."Everyinchofit.""Therewascertainlynobootinitthen.""Inthatcasethewaitermusthaveplacedittherewhilewewerelunching."TheGermanwassentforbutprofessedtoknownothingofthematter,norcould

anyinquiryclearitup.Anotheritemhadbeenaddedtothatconstantandapparentlypurposeless series of smallmysterieswhichhad succeeded eachother so rapidly.Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line ofinexplicableincidentsallwithinthelimitsoftwodays,whichincludedthereceiptoftheprinted letter, theblack-bearded spy in thehansom, the lossof thenewbrownboot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot.HolmessatinsilenceinthecabaswedrovebacktoBakerStreet,andIknewfromhis drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy inendeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparentlydisconnectedepisodescouldbefitted.Allafternoonandlateintotheeveninghesatlostintobaccoandthought.Justbeforedinnertwotelegramswerehandedin.Thefirstran:HavejustheardthatBarrymoreisattheHall.BASKERVILLE.Thesecond:Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut

sheetofTimes.CARTWRIGHT."Theregotwoofmythreads,Watson.Thereisnothingmorestimulatingthana

casewhereeverythinggoesagainstyou.Wemustcastroundforanotherscent.""Wehavestillthecabmanwhodrovethespy.""Exactly. Ihavewired togethisnameandaddress fromtheOfficialRegistry. I

shouldnotbesurprisedifthiswereananswertomyquestion."The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an

answer,however,forthedooropenedandarough-lookingfellowenteredwhowasevidentlythemanhimself."I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been

inquiringforNo.2704,"saidhe."I'vedrivenmycab thissevenyearsandneverawordofcomplaint.IcameherestraightfromtheYardtoaskyoutoyourfacewhatyouhadagainstme."

"Ihavenothing in theworldagainstyou,mygoodman,"saidHolmes."On thecontrary,Ihavehalfasovereignforyouifyouwillgivemeaclearanswertomyquestions.""Well,I'vehadagooddayandnomistake,"saidthecabmanwithagrin."What

wasityouwantedtoask,sir?""Firstofallyournameandaddress,incaseIwantyouagain.""JohnClayton, 3 Turpey Street, theBorough.My cab is out of Shipley'sYard,

nearWaterlooStation."SherlockHolmesmadeanoteofit."Now,Clayton,tellmeallaboutthefarewhocameandwatchedthishouseatten

o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down RegentStreet."Theman looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no goodmy

tellingyou things, foryou seem toknowasmuchas I doalready," saidhe. "Thetruth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to saynothingabouthimtoanyone.""Mygoodfellow;thisisaveryseriousbusiness,andyoumayfindyourselfina

prettybadpositionifyoutrytohideanythingfromme.Yousaythatyourfaretoldyouthathewasadetective?""Yes,hedid.""Whendidhesaythis?""Whenheleftme.""Didhesayanythingmore?""Hementionedhisname."Holmescastaswiftglanceoftriumphatme."Oh,hementionedhisname,didhe?

Thatwasimprudent.Whatwasthenamethathementioned?""Hisname,"saidthecabman,"wasMr.SherlockHolmes."NeverhaveIseenmyfriendmorecompletelytakenabackthanbythecabman's

reply.Foraninstanthesatinsilentamazement.Thenheburstintoaheartylaugh."Atouch,Watson—anundeniabletouch!"saidhe."Ifeelafoilasquickandsupple

asmyown.Hegothomeuponmeveryprettilythattime.SohisnamewasSherlockHolmes,wasit?""Yes,sir,thatwasthegentleman'sname.""Excellent!Tellmewhereyoupickedhimupandallthatoccurred.""He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a

detective,andheofferedmetwoguineas if Iwoulddoexactlywhathewantedalldayandasknoquestions. Iwasgladenoughtoagree.Firstwedrovedownto the

NorthumberlandHotel andwaited there until two gentlemen came out and took acabfromtherank.Wefollowedtheircabuntilitpulledupsomewherenearhere.""Thisverydoor,"saidHolmes."Well,Icouldn'tbesureofthat,butIdaresaymyfareknewallaboutit.Wepulled

uphalfwaydownthestreetandwaitedanhourandahalf.Thenthetwogentlemenpassedus,walking,andwefolloweddownBakerStreetandalong—""Iknow,"saidHolmes."Untilwegotthree-quartersdownRegentStreet.Thenmygentlemanthrewupthe

trap, and he cried that I should drive right away toWaterloo Station as hard as Icouldgo.Iwhippedupthemareandwewerethereunderthetenminutes.Thenhepaiduphistwoguineas,likeagoodone,andawayhewentintothestation.Onlyjustashewas leavinghe turned roundandhesaid: 'Itmight interestyou toknow thatyouhavebeendrivingMr.SherlockHolmes.'That'showIcometoknowthename.""Isee.Andyousawnomoreofhim?""Notafterhewentintothestation.""AndhowwouldyoudescribeMr.SherlockHolmes?"The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy

gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and hewas of amiddleheight,twoorthreeinchesshorterthanyou,sir.Hewasdressedlikeatoff,andhehadablackbeard,cutsquareattheend,andapaleface.Idon'tknowasIcouldsaymorethanthat.""Colourofhiseyes?""No,Ican'tsaythat.""Nothingmorethatyoucanremember?""No,sir;nothing.""Well, then,here isyourhalf-sovereign.There'sanotheronewaitingforyou if

youcanbringanymoreinformation.Good-night!""Good-night,sir,andthankyou!"JohnClaytondepartedchuckling,andHolmes turned tomewitha shrugofhis

shouldersandaruefulsmile."Snapgoesourthirdthread,andweendwherewebegan,"saidhe."Thecunning

rascal!He knew our number, knew that SirHenryBaskerville had consultedme,spottedwhoIwasinRegentStreet,conjecturedthatIhadgotthenumberofthecabandwould laymyhandson thedriver,andsosentback thisaudaciousmessage. Itellyou,Watson, this timewehavegot a foemanwho isworthyofour steel. I'vebeencheckmatedinLondon.IcanonlywishyoubetterluckinDevonshire.ButI'mnoteasyinmymindaboutit.""Aboutwhat?"

"About sendingyou. It's anuglybusiness,Watson, anuglydangerousbusiness,andthemoreIseeofitthelessIlikeit.Yes,mydearfellow,youmaylaugh,butIgiveyoumywordthatIshallbeverygladtohaveyoubacksafeandsoundinBakerStreetoncemore."

Chapter6.BaskervilleHallSirHenryBaskervilleandDr.Mortimerwerereadyupontheappointedday,and

westartedasarrangedforDevonshire.Mr.SherlockHolmesdrovewithmetothestationandgavemehislastpartinginjunctionsandadvice."Iwillnotbiasyourmindbysuggestingtheoriesorsuspicions,Watson,"saidhe;

"Iwishyousimplytoreportfactsinthefullestpossiblemannertome,andyoucanleavemetodothetheorizing.""Whatsortoffacts?"Iasked."Anythingwhichmayseemtohaveabearinghoweverindirectuponthecase,and

especiallytherelationsbetweenyoungBaskervilleandhisneighboursoranyfreshparticularsconcerningthedeathofSirCharles.Ihavemadesomeinquiriesmyselfin the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing onlyappearstobecertain,andthatisthatMr.JamesDesmond,whoisthenextheir,isanelderlygentlemanof averyamiabledisposition, so that thispersecutiondoesnotarise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from ourcalculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir HenryBaskervilleuponthemoor.""WoulditnotbewellinthefirstplacetogetridofthisBarrymorecouple?""Bynomeans.Youcouldnotmakeagreatermistake.Iftheyareinnocentitwould

be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance ofbringingithometothem.No,no,wewillpreservethemuponourlistofsuspects.Then there is a groom at theHall, if I remember right. There are twomoorlandfarmers.ThereisourfriendDr.Mortimer,whomIbelievetobeentirelyhonest,andthereishiswife,ofwhomweknownothing.Thereisthisnaturalist,Stapleton,andthere is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr.Frankland,ofLafterHall,whoisalsoanunknownfactor,andthereareoneortwootherneighbours.Thesearethefolkwhomustbeyourveryspecialstudy.""Iwilldomybest.""Youhavearms,Isuppose?""Yes,Ithoughtitaswelltotakethem.""Mostcertainly.Keepyourrevolvernearyounightandday,andneverrelaxyour

precautions."Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage andwerewaiting for us

upontheplatform."No,wehavenonewsofanykind,"saidDr.Mortimerinanswertomyfriend's

questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowedduringthelasttwodays.Wehavenevergoneoutwithoutkeepingasharpwatch,andnoonecouldhaveescapedournotice.""Youhavealwayskepttogether,Ipresume?""Exceptyesterdayafternoon.IusuallygiveuponedaytopureamusementwhenI

cometotown,soIspentitattheMuseumoftheCollegeofSurgeons.""AndIwenttolookatthefolkinthepark,"saidBaskerville."Butwehadnotroubleofanykind.""Itwasimprudent,allthesame,"saidHolmes,shakinghisheadandlookingvery

grave."Ibeg,SirHenry, thatyouwillnotgoaboutalone.Somegreatmisfortunewillbefallyouifyoudo.Didyougetyourotherboot?""No,sir,itisgoneforever.""Indeed.Thatisveryinteresting.Well,good-bye,"headdedasthetrainbeganto

glidedowntheplatform."Bearinmind,SirHenry,oneofthephrasesinthatqueeroldlegendwhichDr.Mortimerhasreadtous,andavoidthemoorinthosehoursofdarknesswhenthepowersofevilareexalted."I looked back at the platformwhen we had left it far behind and saw the tall,

austerefigureofHolmesstandingmotionlessandgazingafterus.The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more

intimate acquaintance ofmy two companions and in playingwithDr.Mortimer'sspaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick hadchanged 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.YoungBaskervillestaredeagerlyoutofthewindowandcriedaloudwithdelightasherecognizedthefamiliarfeaturesoftheDevonscenery."I'vebeenoveragoodpartoftheworldsinceIleftit,Dr.Watson,"saidhe;"butI

haveneverseenaplacetocomparewithit.""IneversawaDevonshiremanwhodidnotswearbyhiscounty,"Iremarked."It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr.

Mortimer."AglanceatourfriendhererevealstheroundedheadoftheCelt,whichcarriesinsideit theCelticenthusiasmandpowerofattachment.PoorSirCharles'sheadwasofaveryraretype,halfGaelic,halfIvernianinitscharacteristics.ButyouwereveryyoungwhenyoulastsawBaskervilleHall,wereyounot?""Iwasaboyinmyteensatthetimeofmyfather'sdeathandhadneverseenthe

Hall,forhelivedinalittlecottageontheSouthCoast.ThenceIwentstraighttoafriendinAmerica.ItellyouitisallasnewtomeasitistoDr.Watson,andI'maskeenaspossibletoseethemoor.""Areyou?Thenyourwish is easilygranted, for there isyour first sightof the

moor,"saidDr.Mortimer,pointingoutofthecarriagewindow.Overthegreensquaresofthefieldsandthelowcurveofawoodthereroseinthe

distanceagray,melancholyhill,withastrangejaggedsummit,dimandvagueinthedistance,likesomefantasticlandscapeinadream.Baskervillesatforalongtime,hiseyesfixeduponit,andIreaduponhiseagerfacehowmuchitmeanttohim,thisfirstsightofthatstrangespotwherethemenofhisbloodhadheldswaysolongandlefttheirmarksodeep.Therehesat,withhistweedsuitandhisAmericanaccent,inthe corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark andexpressivefaceIfeltmorethaneverhowtrueadescendanthewasofthatlonglineofhigh-blooded,fiery,andmasterfulmen.Therewerepride,valour,andstrengthinhisthickbrows,hissensitivenostrils,andhislargehazeleyes.Ifonthatforbiddingmoor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least acomradeforwhomonemightventuretotakeariskwiththecertaintythathewouldbravelyshareit.The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside,

beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Ourcomingwasevidentlyagreatevent,forstation-masterandportersclusteredroundustocarryoutourluggage.Itwasasweet,simplecountryspot,butIwassurprisedto observe that by the gate there stood two soldierlymen in dark uniformswholeanedupontheirshortriflesandglancedkeenlyatusaswepassed.Thecoachman,a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a fewminuteswewere flyingswiftlydown thebroad,white road.Rollingpasture landscurvedupwardoneithersideofus,andoldgabledhousespeepedoutfromamidthethickgreenfoliage,butbehindthepeacefulandsunlitcountrysidethereroseever,dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomycurveof themoor, brokenby thejaggedandsinisterhills.Thewagonetteswungroundintoasideroad,andwecurvedupwardthroughdeep

laneswornbycenturiesofwheels,highbanksoneitherside,heavywithdrippingmoss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramblegleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over anarrow granite bridge and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down,foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound upthrough a valley densewith scrub oak and fir.At every turnBaskerville gave anexclamationofdelight, lookingeagerlyabouthimandaskingcountlessquestions.To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon thecountryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves

carpetedthelanesandfluttereddownuponusaswepassed.Therattleofourwheelsdiedawayaswedrovethroughdriftsofrottingvegetation—sadgifts,asitseemedto me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of theBaskervilles."Halloa!"criedDr.Mortimer,"whatisthis?"Asteepcurveofheath-cladland,anoutlyingspurofthemoor,layinfrontofus.

On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was amounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm.Hewaswatchingtheroadalongwhichwetravelled."Whatisthis,Perkins?"askedDr.Mortimer.Ourdriverhalf turned inhis seat. "There's aconvict escaped fromPrincetown,

sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and everystation,butthey'vehadnosightofhimyet.Thefarmersaboutheredon'tlikeit,sir,andthat'safact.""Well,Iunderstandthattheygetfivepoundsiftheycangiveinformation.""Yes,sir,butthechanceoffivepoundsisbutapoorthingcomparedtothechance

ofhavingyourthroatcut.Yousee,itisn'tlikeanyordinaryconvict.Thisisamanthatwouldstickatnothing.""Whoishe,then?""ItisSelden,theNottingHillmurderer."Irememberedthecasewell,foritwasoneinwhichHolmeshadtakenaninterest

onaccountofthepeculiarferocityofthecrimeandthewantonbrutalitywhichhadmarkedall theactionsof theassassin.Thecommutationofhisdeathsentencehadbeenduetosomedoubtsastohiscompletesanity,soatrociouswashisconduct.Ourwagonettehadtoppedariseandinfrontofusrosethehugeexpanseofthemoor,mottledwithgnarledandcraggycairnsand tors.Acoldwindsweptdownfromitand set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking thisfiendishman, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancyagainst thewhole racewhich had cast him out. It needed but this to complete thegrim suggestiveness of the barrenwaste, the chillingwind, and the darkling sky.EvenBaskervillefellsilentandpulledhisovercoatmorecloselyaroundhim.Wehadleftthefertilecountrybehindandbeneathus.Welookedbackonitnow,

theslantingraysofalowsunturningthestreamstothreadsofgoldandglowingontheredearthnewturnedbytheploughandthebroadtangleofthewoodlands.Theroad in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes,sprinkledwithgiantboulders.Nowandthenwepassedamoorlandcottage,walledand roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly welookeddownintoacuplikedepression,patchedwithstuntedoaksandfirswhichhadbeentwistedandbentbythefuryofyearsofstorm.Twohigh,narrowtowersrose

overthetrees.Thedriverpointedwithhiswhip."BaskervilleHall,"saidhe.Itsmasterhadrisenandwasstaringwithflushedcheeksandshiningeyes.Afew

minuteslaterwehadreachedthelodge-gates,amazeoffantastictraceryinwroughtiron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, andsurmountedbytheboars'headsoftheBaskervilles.Thelodgewasaruinofblackgraniteandbaredribsofrafters,butfacingitwasanewbuilding,halfconstructed,thefirstfruitofSirCharles'sSouthAfricangold.Through the gatewaywe passed into the avenue, where thewheels were again

hushedamidtheleaves,andtheoldtreesshottheirbranchesinasombretunneloverourheads.Baskervilleshudderedashelookedupthelong,darkdrivetowherethehouseglimmeredlikeaghostatthefartherend."Wasithere?"heaskedinalowvoice."No,no,theyewalleyisontheotherside."Theyoungheirglancedroundwithagloomyface."It'snowondermyunclefeltasiftroublewerecomingonhiminsuchaplaceas

this,"saidhe."It'senoughtoscareanyman.I'llhavearowofelectriclampsuphereinsideof sixmonths, andyouwon't know it again,with a thousand candle-powerSwanandEdisonrighthereinfrontofthehalldoor."Theavenueopenedintoabroadexpanseofturf,andthehouselaybeforeus.In

thefadinglightIcouldseethatthecentrewasaheavyblockofbuildingfromwhichaporchprojected.Thewholefrontwasdrapedinivy,withapatchclippedbarehereandtherewhereawindoworacoatofarmsbrokethroughthedarkveil.Fromthiscentral block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with manyloopholes.Torightandleftoftheturretsweremoremodernwingsofblackgranite.Adulllightshonethroughheavymullionedwindows,andfromthehighchimneyswhichrosefromthesteep,high-angledrooftheresprangasingleblackcolumnofsmoke."Welcome,SirHenry!WelcometoBaskervilleHall!"A tallman had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the

wagonette.The figureof awomanwas silhouetted against theyellow light of thehall.Shecameoutandhelpedthemantohanddownourbags."Youdon'tmindmydrivingstraighthome,SirHenry?"saidDr.Mortimer."My

wifeisexpectingme.""Surelyyouwillstayandhavesomedinner?""No, Imust go. I shall probably find somework awaitingme. Iwould stay to

showyouover thehouse,butBarrymorewillbeabetterguide than I.Good-bye,andneverhesitatenightordaytosendformeifIcanbeofservice."

ThewheelsdiedawaydownthedrivewhileSirHenryandIturnedintothehall,andthedoorclangedheavilybehindus.Itwasafineapartmentinwhichwefoundourselves,large,lofty,andheavilyrafteredwithhugebaulksofage-blackenedoak.In thegreatold-fashioned fireplacebehind thehigh irondogsa log-fire crackledandsnapped.SirHenryandIheldoutourhandstoit,forwewerenumbfromourlongdrive.Thenwegazedroundusat thehigh, thinwindowofoldstainedglass,the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats of arms upon thewalls, all dim andsombreinthesubduedlightofthecentrallamp."It's just as I imagined it," said SirHenry. "Is it not the very picture of an old

familyhome?Tothinkthatthisshouldbethesamehallinwhichforfivehundredyearsmypeoplehavelived.Itstrikesmesolemntothinkofit."I sawhisdark face litupwithaboyishenthusiasmashegazedabouthim.The

lightbeatuponhimwherehe stood,but long shadows traileddown thewalls andhung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking ourluggage toourrooms.Hestood infrontofusnowwith thesubduedmannerofawell-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with asquareblackbeardandpale,distinguishedfeatures."Wouldyouwishdinnertobeservedatonce,sir?""Isitready?""Inaveryfewminutes,sir.Youwillfindhotwaterinyourrooms.MywifeandI

will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresharrangements,butyouwillunderstandthatunderthenewconditionsthishousewillrequireaconsiderablestaff.""Whatnewconditions?""Ionlymeant,sir,thatSirCharlesledaveryretiredlife,andwewereabletolook

afterhiswants.Youwould,naturally,wishtohavemorecompany,andsoyouwillneedchangesinyourhousehold.""Doyoumeanthatyourwifeandyouwishtoleave?""Onlywhenitisquiteconvenienttoyou,sir.""But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I

shouldbesorrytobeginmylifeherebybreakinganoldfamilyconnection."Iseemedtodiscernsomesignsofemotionuponthebutler'swhiteface."Ifeelthatalso,sir,andsodoesmywife.Buttotellthetruth,sir,wewereboth

verymuchattached toSirCharles, andhisdeathgaveus a shockandmade thesesurroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in ourmindsatBaskervilleHall.""Butwhatdoyouintendtodo?""I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some

business. SirCharles's generosity has given us themeans to do so.Andnow, sir,perhapsIhadbestshowyoutoyourrooms."Asquarebalustradedgalleryranroundthe topof theoldhall,approachedbya

doublestair.Fromthiscentralpointtwolongcorridorsextendedthewholelengthofthebuilding,fromwhichallthebedroomsopened.MyownwasinthesamewingasBaskerville'sandalmostnextdoortoit.Theseroomsappearedtobemuchmoremodern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerouscandlesdidsomethingtoremovethesombreimpressionwhichourarrivalhadleftuponmymind.But the dining-roomwhich opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and

gloom.Itwasa longchamberwithastepseparating thedaiswhere thefamilysatfrom the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel'sgallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkenedceilingbeyond them.Withrowsof flaring torches to light itup,and thecolour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, itmight have softened; but now,whentwoblack-clothedgentlemensatinthelittlecircleoflightthrownbyashadedlamp,one'svoicebecamehushedandone'sspiritsubdued.Adimlineofancestors,ineveryvarietyofdress, fromtheElizabethanknight to thebuckof theRegency,stareddownuponusanddauntedusbytheirsilentcompany.Wetalkedlittle,andIforonewasgladwhenthemealwasoverandwewereabletoretireintothemodernbilliard-roomandsmokeacigarette."Myword,itisn'taverycheerfulplace,"saidSirHenry."Isupposeonecantone

downtoit,butIfeelabitoutofthepictureatpresent.Idon'twonderthatmyunclegota little jumpy ifhe livedallalone insuchahouseas this.However, if it suitsyou,wewillretireearlytonight,andperhapsthingsmayseemmorecheerfulinthemorning."IdrewasidemycurtainsbeforeIwenttobedandlookedoutfrommywindow.It

opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, twocopsesoftreesmoanedandswunginarisingwind.Ahalfmoonbrokethroughtherifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe ofrocks,andthelong,lowcurveofthemelancholymoor.Iclosedthecurtain,feelingthatmylastimpressionwasinkeepingwiththerest.Andyet itwasnotquite the last. I foundmyselfwearyandyetwakeful, tossing

restlesslyfromsidetoside,seekingforthesleepwhichwouldnotcome.Farawayachimingclockstruckout thequartersof thehours,butotherwiseadeathlysilencelayupontheoldhouse.Andthensuddenly,intheverydeadofthenight,therecameasoundtomyears,clear,resonant,andunmistakable.Itwasthesobofawoman,themuffled,stranglinggaspofonewhoistornbyanuncontrollablesorrow.Isatupinbedandlistenedintently.Thenoisecouldnothavebeenfarawayandwascertainlyinthehouse.ForhalfanhourIwaitedwitheverynerveonthealert,buttherecame

noothersoundsavethechimingclockandtherustleoftheivyonthewall.

Chapter7.TheStapletonsofMerripitHouseThe fresh beauty of the followingmorning did something to efface from our

minds the grimandgray impressionwhichhadbeen left uponboth of us byourfirstexperienceofBaskervilleHall.AsSirHenryandIsatatbreakfastthesunlightfloodedinthroughthehighmullionedwindows,throwingwaterypatchesofcolourfromthecoatsofarmswhichcoveredthem.Thedarkpanellingglowedlikebronzeinthegoldenrays,anditwashardtorealizethatthiswasindeedthechamberwhichhadstrucksuchagloomintooursoulsupontheeveningbefore."Iguessitisourselvesandnotthehousethatwehavetoblame!"saidthebaronet.

"Weweretiredwithourjourneyandchilledbyourdrive,sowetookagrayviewoftheplace.Nowwearefreshandwell,soitisallcheerfuloncemore.""Andyetitwasnotentirelyaquestionofimagination,"Ianswered."Didyou,for

example,happentohearsomeone,awomanIthink,sobbinginthenight?""Thatiscurious,forIdidwhenIwashalfasleepfancythatIheardsomethingof

thesort.Iwaitedquiteatime,buttherewasnomoreofit,soIconcludedthatitwasalladream.""Ihearditdistinctly,andIamsurethatitwasreallythesobofawoman.""We must ask about this right away." He rang the bell and asked Barrymore

whetherhecouldaccountforourexperience.Itseemedtomethatthepallidfeaturesofthebutlerturnedashadepalerstillashelistenedtohismaster'squestion."Thereareonly twowomen in thehouse,SirHenry,"heanswered. "One is the

scullery-maid,whosleepsintheotherwing.Theotherismywife,andIcananswerforitthatthesoundcouldnothavecomefromher."And yet he lied as he said it, for it chanced that after breakfast I met Mrs.

Barrymore in the longcorridorwith the sun full uponher face.Shewas a large,impassive, heavy-featured woman with a stern set expression of mouth. But hertelltaleeyeswereredandglancedatmefrombetweenswollenlids.Itwasshe,then,whoweptinthenight,andifshedidsoherhusbandmustknowit.Yethehadtakentheobviousriskofdiscoveryindeclaringthatitwasnotso.Whyhadhedonethis?Andwhydidsheweepsobitterly?Alreadyroundthispale-faced,handsome,black-beardedmantherewasgatheringanatmosphereofmysteryandofgloom.Itwashewho had been the first to discover the body of Sir Charles, andwe had only hiswordforallthecircumstanceswhichleduptotheoldman'sdeath.WasitpossiblethatitwasBarrymore,afterall,whomwehadseeninthecabinRegentStreet?Thebeard might well have been the same. The cabman had described a somewhat

shorterman,butsuchanimpressionmighteasilyhavebeenerroneous.HowcouldIsettle the point forever? Obviously the first thing to do was to see the GrimpenpostmasterandfindwhetherthetesttelegramhadreallybeenplacedinBarrymore'sownhands.Betheanswerwhatitmight,IshouldatleasthavesomethingtoreporttoSherlockHolmes.SirHenryhadnumerouspapers toexamineafterbreakfast,so that the timewas

propitiousformyexcursion.Itwasapleasantwalkoffourmilesalongtheedgeofthemoor,leadingmeatlasttoasmallgrayhamlet,inwhichtwolargerbuildings,whichprovedtobetheinnandthehouseofDr.Mortimer,stoodhighabovetherest.The postmaster, whowas also the village grocer, had a clear recollection of thetelegram."Certainly,sir,"saidhe,"IhadthetelegramdeliveredtoMr.Barrymoreexactlyas

directed.""Whodeliveredit?""Myboyhere. James,youdelivered that telegramtoMr.Barrymoreat theHall

lastweek,didyounot?""Yes,father,Ideliveredit.""Intohisownhands?"Iasked."Well, hewas up in the loft at the time, so that I could not put it into his own

hands,butIgaveit intoMrs.Barrymore'shands,andshepromisedtodeliveritatonce.""DidyouseeMr.Barrymore?""No,sir;Itellyouhewasintheloft.""Ifyoudidn'tseehim,howdoyouknowhewasintheloft?""Well,surelyhisownwifeoughttoknowwhereheis,"saidthepostmastertestily.

"Didn'thegetthetelegram?IfthereisanymistakeitisforMr.Barrymorehimselftocomplain."Itseemedhopelesstopursuetheinquiryanyfarther,butitwasclearthatinspite

ofHolmes's rusewehadnoproof thatBarrymorehadnotbeen inLondonall thetime.Supposethatitwereso—supposethatthesamemanhadbeenthelastwhohadseen Sir Charles alive, and the first to dog the new heir when he returned toEngland.Whatthen?Washetheagentofothersorhadhesomesinisterdesignofhis own? What interest could he have in persecuting the Baskerville family? IthoughtofthestrangewarningclippedoutoftheleadingarticleoftheTimes.Wasthat his work or was it possibly the doing of someone who was bent uponcounteractinghisschemes?Theonlyconceivablemotivewas thatwhichhadbeensuggestedbySirHenry,thatifthefamilycouldbescaredawayacomfortableandpermanent home would be secured for the Barrymores. But surely such an

explanation as that would be quite inadequate to account for the deep and subtleschemingwhich seemed to beweaving an invisible net round the young baronet.Holmeshimselfhadsaidthatnomorecomplexcasehadcometohiminallthelongseriesofhis sensational investigations. Iprayed,as Iwalkedbackalong thegray,lonelyroad,thatmyfriendmightsoonbefreedfromhispreoccupationsandabletocomedowntotakethisheavyburdenofresponsibilityfrommyshoulders.Suddenlymythoughtswere interruptedby thesoundof runningfeetbehindme

andbyavoicewhichcalledmebyname.Iturned,expectingtoseeDr.Mortimer,buttomysurpriseitwasastrangerwhowaspursuingme.Hewasasmall,slim,clean-shaven,prim-facedman,flaxen-hairedandleanjawed,betweenthirtyandfortyyearsof age, dressed in a gray suit and wearing a straw hat. A tin box for botanicalspecimenshungoverhisshoulderandhecarriedagreenbutterfly-netinoneofhishands."Youwill, I am sure, excusemypresumption,Dr.Watson," saidhe as he came

pantinguptowhereIstood."Hereonthemoorwearehomelyfolkanddonotwaitforformalintroductions.Youmaypossiblyhaveheardmynamefromourmutualfriend,Mortimer.IamStapleton,ofMerripitHouse.""Your net and box would have told me as much," said I, "for I knew thatMr.

Stapletonwasanaturalist.Buthowdidyouknowme?""IhavebeencallingonMortimer,andhepointedyououttomefromthewindow

ofhissurgeryasyoupassed.AsourroadlaythesamewayIthoughtthatIwouldovertakeyouandintroducemyself.ItrustthatSirHenryisnonetheworseforhisjourney?""Heisverywell,thankyou.""WewereallratherafraidthatafterthesaddeathofSirCharlesthenewbaronet

might refuse to live here. It is askingmuch of awealthyman to comedown andburyhimselfinaplaceofthiskind,butIneednottellyouthatitmeansaverygreatdeal to the countryside. Sir Henry has, I suppose, no superstitious fears in thematter?""Idonotthinkthatitislikely.""Ofcourseyouknowthelegendofthefienddogwhichhauntsthefamily?""Ihaveheardit.""It is extraordinaryhowcredulous thepeasants are about here!Anynumberof

them are ready to swear that they have seen such a creature upon themoor."Hespokewith a smile, but I seemed to read inhis eyes thathe took themattermoreseriously."Thestorytookagreatholduponthe imaginationofSirCharles,andIhavenodoubtthatitledtohistragicend.""Buthow?"

"Hisnervesweresoworkedupthattheappearanceofanydogmighthavehadafataleffectuponhisdiseasedheart. I fancy thathereallydidseesomethingof thekinduponthatlastnightintheyewalley.Ifearedthatsomedisastermightoccur,forIwasveryfondoftheoldman,andIknewthathisheartwasweak.""Howdidyouknowthat?""MyfriendMortimertoldme.""Youthink,then,thatsomedogpursuedSirCharles,andthathediedoffrightin

consequence?""Haveyouanybetterexplanation?""Ihavenotcometoanyconclusion.""HasMr.SherlockHolmes?"Thewordstookawaymybreathforaninstantbutaglanceattheplacidfaceand

steadfasteyesofmycompanionshowedthatnosurprisewasintended."Itisuselessforustopretendthatwedonotknowyou,Dr.Watson,"saidhe."The

records of your detective have reached us here, and you could not celebrate himwithout being known yourself.WhenMortimer toldme your name he could notdeny your identity. If you are here, then it follows that Mr. Sherlock Holmes isinterestinghimself inthematter,andIamnaturallycurioustoknowwhatviewhemaytake.""IamafraidthatIcannotanswerthatquestion.""MayIaskifheisgoingtohonouruswithavisithimself?""Hecannotleavetownatpresent.Hehasothercaseswhichengagehisattention.""Whatapity!Hemightthrowsomelightonthatwhichissodarktous.Butasto

yourownresearches,ifthereisanypossiblewayinwhichIcanbeofservicetoyouI trust that you will command me. If I had any indication of the nature of yoursuspicionsorhowyoupropose to investigate thecase, Imightperhapsevennowgiveyousomeaidoradvice.""IassureyouthatIamsimplyhereuponavisittomyfriend,SirHenry,andthatI

neednohelpofanykind.""Excellent!"saidStapleton."Youareperfectlyrighttobewaryanddiscreet.Iam

justlyreprovedforwhatIfeelwasanunjustifiableintrusion,andIpromiseyouthatIwillnotmentionthematteragain."Wehadcometoapointwhereanarrowgrassypathstruckofffromtheroadand

wound away across the moor. A steep, boulder-sprinkled hill lay upon the rightwhichhadinbygonedaysbeencutintoagranitequarry.Thefacewhichwasturnedtowardsusformedadarkcliff,withfernsandbramblesgrowinginitsniches.Fromoveradistantrisetherefloatedagrayplumeofsmoke."Amoderatewalk along thismoor-path brings us toMerripitHouse," said he.

"PerhapsyouwillspareanhourthatImayhavethepleasureofintroducingyoutomysister."MyfirstthoughtwasthatIshouldbebySirHenry'sside.ButthenIremembered

thepileofpapersandbillswithwhichhisstudytablewaslittered.ItwascertainthatIcouldnothelpwiththose.AndHolmeshadexpresslysaidthatIshouldstudytheneighboursuponthemoor.IacceptedStapleton'sinvitation,andweturnedtogetherdownthepath."It is awonderfulplace, themoor," saidhe, looking roundover theundulating

downs, longgreenrollers,withcrestsof jaggedgranite foamingup intofantasticsurges."Younevertireofthemoor.Youcannotthinkthewonderfulsecretswhichitcontains.Itissovast,andsobarren,andsomysterious.""Youknowitwell,then?""Ihaveonlybeenhere twoyears.Theresidentswouldcallmeanewcomer.We

cameshortlyafterSirCharlessettled.Butmytastesledmetoexploreeverypartofthecountryround,andIshouldthinkthattherearefewmenwhoknowitbetterthanIdo.""Isithardtoknow?""Veryhard.Yousee,forexample,thisgreatplaintothenorthherewiththequeer

hillsbreakingoutofit.Doyouobserveanythingremarkableaboutthat?""Itwouldbearareplaceforagallop.""Youwouldnaturallythinksoandthethoughthascostseveraltheirlivesbefore

now.Younoticethosebrightgreenspotsscatteredthicklyoverit?""Yes,theyseemmorefertilethantherest."Stapletonlaughed."ThatisthegreatGrimpenMire,"saidhe."Afalsestepyonder

meansdeathtomanorbeast.OnlyyesterdayIsawoneofthemoorponieswanderinto it.Henevercameout. Isawhisheadforquitea longtimecraningoutof thebog-hole,butitsuckedhimdownatlast.Evenindryseasonsitisadangertocrossit,butaftertheseautumnrainsitisanawfulplace.AndyetIcanfindmywaytothevery heart of it and return alive. ByGeorge, there is another of thosemiserableponies!"Somethingbrownwasrollingandtossingamongthegreensedges.Thenalong,

agonized,writhingneck shotupwardandadreadful cryechoedover themoor. Itturnedmecoldwithhorror,butmycompanion'snervesseemedtobestrongerthanmine."It's gone!" said he. "The mire has him. Two in two days, and many more,

perhaps,fortheygetinthewayofgoingthereinthedryweatherandneverknowthe difference until the mire has them in its clutches. It's a bad place, the greatGrimpenMire."

"Andyousayyoucanpenetrateit?""Yes,thereareoneortwopathswhichaveryactivemancantake.Ihavefound

themout.""Butwhyshouldyouwishtogointosohorribleaplace?""Well,youseethehillsbeyond?Theyarereallyislandscutoffonallsidesbythe

impassable mire, which has crawled round them in the course of years. That iswheretherareplantsandthebutterfliesare,ifyouhavethewittoreachthem.""Ishalltrymylucksomeday."He lookedatmewithasurprised face."ForGod'ssakeputsuchan ideaoutof

yourmind," saidhe. "Yourbloodwouldbeuponmyhead. Iassureyou that therewouldnotbetheleastchanceofyourcomingbackalive.ItisonlybyrememberingcertaincomplexlandmarksthatIamabletodoit.""Halloa!"Icried."Whatisthat?"Along,lowmoan,indescribablysad,sweptoverthemoor.Itfilledthewholeair,

andyetitwasimpossibletosaywhenceitcame.Fromadullmurmuritswelledintoadeeproar,andthensankbackintoamelancholy, throbbingmurmuronceagain.Stapletonlookedatmewithacuriousexpressioninhisface."Queerplace,themoor!"saidhe."Butwhatisit?""The peasants say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for its prey. I've

hearditonceortwicebefore,butneverquitesoloud."I looked round, with a chill of fear in my heart, at the huge swelling plain,

mottledwiththegreenpatchesofrushes.Nothingstirredoverthevastexpansesaveapairofravens,whichcroakedloudlyfromatorbehindus."Youareaneducatedman.Youdon'tbelievesuchnonsenseasthat?"saidI."What

doyouthinkisthecauseofsostrangeasound?""Bogsmakequeernoisessometimes.It'sthemudsettling,orthewaterrising,or

something.""No,no,thatwasalivingvoice.""Well,perhapsitwas.Didyoueverhearabitternbooming?""No,Ineverdid.""It's a very rare bird—practically extinct—in England now, but all things are

possibleupon themoor.Yes, I shouldnotbesurprised to learn thatwhatwehaveheardisthecryofthelastofthebitterns.""It'stheweirdest,strangestthingthateverIheardinmylife.""Yes,it'sratheranuncannyplacealtogether.Lookatthehillsideyonder.Whatdo

youmakeofthose?"

Thewholesteepslopewascoveredwithgraycircularringsofstone,ascoreofthematleast."Whatarethey?Sheep-pens?""No,theyarethehomesofourworthyancestors.Prehistoricmanlivedthicklyon

themoor, and as no one in particular has lived there since, we find all his littlearrangementsexactlyasheleftthem.Thesearehiswigwamswiththeroofsoff.Youcanevenseehishearthandhiscouchifyouhavethecuriositytogoinside."Butitisquiteatown.Whenwasitinhabited?""Neolithicman—nodate.""Whatdidhedo?""He grazed his cattle on these slopes, and he learned to dig for tin when the

bronze sword began to supersede the stone axe. Look at the great trench in theoppositehill.Thatishismark.Yes,youwillfindsomeverysingularpointsaboutthemoor,Dr.Watson.Oh,excusemeaninstant!ItissurelyCyclopides."Asmallflyormothhadflutteredacrossourpath,andinaninstantStapletonwas

rushing with extraordinary energy and speed in pursuit of it. To my dismay thecreatureflewstraightforthegreatmire,andmyacquaintanceneverpausedforaninstant,boundingfromtufttotuftbehindit,hisgreennetwavingintheair.Hisgrayclothesandjerky,zigzag,irregularprogressmadehimnotunlikesomehugemothhimself. Iwas standingwatching his pursuitwith amixture of admiration for hisextraordinary activity and fear lest he should lose his footing in the treacherousmire,whenIheardthesoundofstepsand,turninground,foundawomannearmeupon the path. She had come from the direction in which the plume of smokeindicatedthepositionofMerripitHouse,butthedipofthemoorhadhidheruntilshewasquiteclose.IcouldnotdoubtthatthiswastheMissStapletonofwhomIhadbeentold,since

ladiesofanysortmustbe fewupon themoor,andI remembered that Ihadheardsomeone describe her as being a beauty. The woman who approached me wascertainlythat,andofamostuncommontype.Therecouldnothavebeenagreatercontrastbetweenbrotherandsister,forStapletonwasneutraltinted,withlighthairandgrayeyes,whileshewasdarkerthananybrunettewhomIhaveseeninEngland—slim,elegant,and tall.Shehadaproud, finelycut face, so regular that itmighthaveseemed impassivewere itnot for the sensitivemouthand thebeautifuldark,eager eyes.With her perfect figure and elegant dress she was, indeed, a strangeapparitionuponalonelymoorlandpath.HereyeswereonherbrotherasIturned,andthenshequickenedherpacetowardsme.Ihadraisedmyhatandwasabouttomakesomeexplanatoryremarkwhenherownwordsturnedallmythoughtsintoanewchannel."Goback!"shesaid."GostraightbacktoLondon,instantly."

Icouldonlystareatherinstupidsurprise.Hereyesblazedatme,andshetappedthegroundimpatientlywithherfoot."WhyshouldIgoback?"Iasked."I cannot explain." She spoke in a low, eager voice,with a curious lisp in her

utterance."ButforGod'ssakedowhatIaskyou.Gobackandneversetfootuponthemooragain.""ButIhaveonlyjustcome.""Man,man!"shecried."Canyounottellwhenawarningisforyourowngood?

GobacktoLondon!Starttonight!Getawayfromthisplaceatallcosts!Hush,mybrother is coming!Not aword ofwhat I have said.Would youmind getting thatorchid formeamong themare's-tailsyonder?Wearevery rich inorchidson themoor,though,ofcourse,youareratherlatetoseethebeautiesoftheplace."Stapleton had abandoned the chase and came back to us breathing hard and

flushedwithhisexertions."Halloa,Beryl!"saidhe,anditseemedtomethatthetoneofhisgreetingwasnot

altogetheracordialone."Well,Jack,youareveryhot.""Yes, Iwas chasing aCyclopides.He isvery rare and seldom found in the late

autumn.Whatapity that I shouldhavemissedhim!"Hespokeunconcernedly,buthissmalllighteyesglancedincessantlyfromthegirltome."Youhaveintroducedyourselves,Icansee.""Yes.IwastellingSirHenrythatitwasratherlateforhimtoseethetruebeauties

ofthemoor.""Why,whodoyouthinkthisis?""IimaginethatitmustbeSirHenryBaskerville.""No, no," said I. "Only a humble commoner, but his friend. My name is Dr.

Watson."A flush of vexation passed over her expressive face. "We have been talking at

crosspurposes,"saidshe."Why,youhadnotverymuchtimefortalk,"herbrotherremarkedwiththesame

questioningeyes."ItalkedasifDr.Watsonwerearesidentinsteadofbeingmerelyavisitor,"said

she."Itcannotmuchmattertohimwhetheritisearlyorlatefortheorchids.Butyouwillcomeon,willyounot,andseeMerripitHouse?"Ashortwalkbroughtus to it, ableakmoorlandhouse, once the farmof some

grazierintheoldprosperousdays,butnowputintorepairandturnedintoamoderndwelling.Anorchardsurroundedit,but thetrees,as isusualuponthemoor,werestuntedandnipped,andtheeffectofthewholeplacewasmeanandmelancholy.We

wereadmittedbyastrange,wizened, rusty-coatedoldmanservant,whoseemed inkeepingwiththehouse.Inside,however,therewerelargeroomsfurnishedwithaneleganceinwhichIseemedtorecognizethetasteofthelady.AsIlookedfromtheirwindowsat the interminablegranite-fleckedmoorrollingunbrokento thefarthesthorizonIcouldnotbutmarvelatwhatcouldhavebroughtthishighlyeducatedmanandthisbeautifulwomantoliveinsuchaplace."Queerspottochoose,isitnot?"saidheasifinanswertomythought."Andyet

wemanagetomakeourselvesfairlyhappy,dowenot,Beryl?""Quitehappy,"saidshe,buttherewasnoringofconvictioninherwords."Ihadaschool,"saidStapleton."Itwasinthenorthcountry.Theworktoamanof

mytemperamentwasmechanicalanduninteresting,buttheprivilegeoflivingwithyouth,ofhelpingtomouldthoseyoungminds,andofimpressingthemwithone'sowncharacterandidealswasverydeartome.However,thefateswereagainstus.Aserious epidemic broke out in the school and three of the boys died. It neverrecoveredfromtheblow,andmuchofmycapitalwasirretrievablyswallowedup.Andyet, if itwerenot for the lossof thecharmingcompanionshipof theboys, Icould rejoiceovermyownmisfortune, for,withmy strong tastes forbotanyandzoology, I find an unlimited field of work here, and my sister is as devoted toNature as I am. All this, Dr.Watson, has been brought upon your head by yourexpressionasyousurveyedthemooroutofourwindow.""Itcertainlydidcrossmymindthatitmightbealittledull—lessforyou,perhaps,

thanforyoursister.""No,no,Iamneverdull,"saidshequickly."We have books,we have our studies, andwe have interesting neighbours.Dr.

Mortimer is a most learned man in his own line. Poor Sir Charles was also anadmirablecompanion.WeknewhimwellandmisshimmorethanIcantell.DoyouthinkthatIshouldintrudeifIweretocallthisafternoonandmaketheacquaintanceofSirHenry?""Iamsurethathewouldbedelighted.""ThenperhapsyouwouldmentionthatIproposetodoso.Wemayinourhumble

waydosomethingtomakethingsmoreeasyforhimuntilhebecomesaccustomedto his new surroundings. Will you come upstairs, Dr. Watson, and inspect mycollectionofLepidoptera?I think it is themostcompleteone in thesouth-westofEngland. By the time that you have looked through them lunch will be almostready."ButIwaseagertogetbacktomycharge.Themelancholyofthemoor,thedeath

of theunfortunatepony, theweirdsoundwhichhadbeenassociatedwith thegrimlegendoftheBaskervilles,allthesethingstingedmythoughtswithsadness.Thenonthe top of thesemore or less vague impressions there had come the definite and

distinct warning ofMiss Stapleton, delivered with such intense earnestness that Icouldnotdoubtthatsomegraveanddeepreasonlaybehindit.Iresistedallpressureto stay for lunch, and I set off at once uponmy return journey, taking the grass-grownpathbywhichwehadcome.Itseems,however,thattheremusthavebeensomeshortcutforthosewhoknew

it, forbefore Ihad reached the road Iwasastounded to seeMissStapletonsittingupon a rock by the side of the track. Her face was beautifully flushed with herexertionsandsheheldherhandtoherside."Ihaverunall thewayinordertocutyouoff,Dr.Watson,"saidshe."Ihadnot

eventimetoputonmyhat.Imustnotstop,ormybrothermaymissme.IwantedtosaytoyouhowsorryIamaboutthestupidmistakeImadeinthinkingthatyouwereSirHenry. Please forget thewords I said,which have no applicationwhatever toyou.""ButIcan'tforgetthem,MissStapleton,"saidI."IamSirHenry'sfriend,andhis

welfareisaverycloseconcernofmine.TellmewhyitwasthatyouweresoeagerthatSirHenryshouldreturntoLondon.""Awoman'swhim,Dr.Watson.When you knowmebetter youwill understand

thatIcannotalwaysgivereasonsforwhatIsayordo.""No,no.Irememberthethrill inyourvoice.Irememberthelookinyoureyes.

Please,please,befrankwithme,MissStapleton,foreversinceIhavebeenhereIhave been conscious of shadows all round me. Life has become like that greatGrimpenMire,with littlegreenpatches everywhere intowhichonemay sink andwithnoguidetopointthetrack.Tellmethenwhatitwasthatyoumeant,andIwillpromisetoconveyyourwarningtoSirHenry."Anexpressionofirresolutionpassedforaninstantoverherface,buthereyeshad

hardenedagainwhensheansweredme."Youmake toomuchof it,Dr.Watson," said she. "Mybrother and Iwerevery

much shocked by the death of SirCharles.We knew him very intimately, for hisfavouritewalkwasoverthemoortoourhouse.Hewasdeeplyimpressedwiththecursewhichhungover thefamily,andwhenthis tragedycameInaturallyfelt thattheremustbesomegroundsforthefearswhichhehadexpressed.Iwasdistressedthereforewhenanothermemberofthefamilycamedowntolivehere,andIfeltthatheshouldbewarnedofthedangerwhichhewillrun.ThatwasallwhichIintendedtoconvey."Butwhatisthedanger?""Youknowthestoryofthehound?""Idonotbelieveinsuchnonsense.""ButIdo.IfyouhaveanyinfluencewithSirHenry,takehimawayfromaplace

whichhasalwaysbeenfataltohisfamily.Theworldiswide.Whyshouldhewishto

liveattheplaceofdanger?""Becauseitistheplaceofdanger.ThatisSirHenry'snature.Ifearthatunlessyou

cangivemesomemoredefiniteinformationthanthisitwouldbeimpossibletogethimtomove.""Icannotsayanythingdefinite,forIdonotknowanythingdefinite.""Iwouldaskyouonemorequestion,MissStapleton.Ifyoumeantnomorethan

thiswhenyoufirstspoketome,whyshouldyounotwishyourbrothertooverhearwhatyousaid?Thereisnothingtowhichhe,oranyoneelse,couldobject.""MybrotherisveryanxioustohavetheHallinhabited,forhethinksitisforthe

goodofthepoorfolkuponthemoor.HewouldbeveryangryifheknewthatIhavesaidanythingwhichmight induceSirHenry togoaway.But IhavedonemydutynowandIwillsaynomore.Imustgoback,orhewillmissmeandsuspectthatIhaveseenyou.Good-bye!"Sheturnedandhaddisappearedinafewminutesamongthescatteredboulders,whileI,withmysoulfullofvaguefears,pursuedmywaytoBaskervilleHall.

Chapter8.FirstReportofDr.WatsonFromthispointonwardIwillfollowthecourseofeventsbytranscribingmyown

letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before me on the table. One page ismissing, but otherwise they are exactly as written and show my feelings andsuspicionsofthemomentmoreaccuratelythanmymemory,clearasitisuponthesetragicevents,canpossiblydo.Baskerville Hall, October 13th.MYDEARHOLMES:My previous letters and

telegramshavekeptyouprettywelluptodateastoallthathasoccurredinthismostGod-forsaken corner of theworld. The longer one stays here themore does thespiritofthemoorsinkintoone'ssoul,itsvastness,andalsoitsgrimcharm.WhenyouareonceoutuponitsbosomyouhaveleftalltracesofmodernEnglandbehindyou, but, on the other hand, you are conscious everywhere of the homes and theworkof theprehistoricpeople.Onallsidesofyouasyouwalkare thehousesoftheseforgottenfolk,withtheirgravesandthehugemonolithswhicharesupposedto have marked their temples. As you look at their gray stone huts against thescarredhillsidesyouleaveyourownagebehindyou,andifyouweretoseeaskin-clad,hairymancrawlout fromthe lowdoor fittinga flint-tippedarrowon to thestringofhisbow,youwouldfeelthathispresencetherewasmorenaturalthanyourown.Thestrangethingisthattheyshouldhavelivedsothicklyonwhatmustalwayshavebeenmost unfruitful soil. I amno antiquarian, but I could imagine that theyweresomeunwarlikeandharriedracewhowereforcedtoacceptthatwhichnoneotherwouldoccupy.All this, however, is foreign to the mission on which you sent me and will

probablybeveryuninterestingtoyourseverelypracticalmind.Icanstillrememberyourcompleteindifferenceastowhetherthesunmovedroundtheearthortheearthround the sun. Let me, therefore, return to the facts concerning Sir HenryBaskerville.Ifyouhavenothadanyreportwithinthelastfewdaysit isbecauseuptotoday

there was nothing of importance to relate. Then a very surprising circumstanceoccurred,whichIshall tellyouinduecourse.But, firstofall, Imustkeepyouintouchwithsomeoftheotherfactorsinthesituation.Oneofthese,concerningwhichIhavesaidlittle,istheescapedconvictuponthe

moor.Thereisstrongreasonnowtobelievethathehasgotrightaway,whichisaconsiderablerelieftothelonelyhouseholdersofthisdistrict.Afortnighthaspassedsincehis flight,duringwhichhehasnotbeenseenandnothinghasbeenheardofhim.Itissurelyinconceivablethathecouldhaveheldoutuponthemoorduringallthattime.Ofcourse,sofarashisconcealmentgoesthereisnodifficultyatall.Anyoneof thesestonehutswouldgivehimahiding-place.But there isnothing toeatunlesshewere tocatchandslaughteroneof themoorsheep.Wethink, therefore,thathehasgone,andtheoutlyingfarmerssleepthebetterinconsequence.Wearefourable-bodiedmeninthishousehold,sothatwecouldtakegoodcare

ofourselves,butIconfessthatIhavehaduneasymomentswhenIhavethoughtofthe Stapletons. They live miles from any help. There are one maid, an oldmanservant,thesister,andthebrother,thelatternotaverystrongman.Theywouldbehelpless in thehandsofadesperate fellow like thisNottingHillcriminal ifhecould once effect an entrance. Both Sir Henry and I were concerned at theirsituation,anditwassuggestedthatPerkinsthegroomshouldgoovertosleepthere,butStapletonwouldnothearofit.Thefactisthatourfriend,thebaronet,beginstodisplayaconsiderableinterestin

ourfairneighbour.Itisnottobewonderedat,fortimehangsheavilyinthislonelyspottoanactivemanlikehim,andsheisaveryfascinatingandbeautifulwoman.Thereissomethingtropicalandexoticaboutherwhichformsasingularcontrasttohercoolandunemotionalbrother.Yethealsogivestheideaofhiddenfires.Hehascertainlyaverymarkedinfluenceoverher,forIhaveseenhercontinuallyglanceathimasshetalkedasifseekingapprobationforwhatshesaid.Itrustthatheiskindtoher.Thereisadryglitterinhiseyesandafirmsetofhisthinlips,whichgoeswithapositiveandpossiblyaharshnature.Youwouldfindhimaninterestingstudy.He came over to call upon Baskerville on that first day, and the very next

morninghetookusbothtoshowusthespotwherethelegendofthewickedHugoissupposedtohavehaditsorigin.Itwasanexcursionofsomemilesacrossthemoortoaplacewhichissodismalthatitmighthavesuggestedthestory.Wefoundashortvalleybetweenruggedtorswhichledtoanopen,grassyspacefleckedoverwiththewhitecottongrass.Inthemiddleofitrosetwogreatstones,wornandsharpenedattheupperenduntil they looked like thehugecorrodingfangsofsomemonstrousbeast.Ineverywayitcorrespondedwiththesceneoftheoldtragedy.SirHenrywasmuchinterestedandaskedStapletonmorethanoncewhetherhedidreallybelieveinthepossibilityoftheinterferenceofthesupernaturalintheaffairsofmen.Hespokelightly,butitwasevidentthathewasverymuchinearnest.Stapletonwasguardedinhisreplies,butitwaseasytoseethathesaidlessthanhemight,andthathewouldnotexpresshiswholeopinionoutofconsiderationforthefeelingsofthebaronet.Hetoldusofsimilarcases,wherefamilieshadsufferedfromsomeevilinfluence,andheleftuswiththeimpressionthathesharedthepopularviewuponthematter.

OnourwaybackwestayedforlunchatMerripitHouse,anditwastherethatSirHenrymadetheacquaintanceofMissStapleton.Fromthefirstmomentthathesawher he appeared to be strongly attracted by her, and I am much mistaken if thefeelingwasnotmutual.Hereferredtoheragainandagainonourwalkhome,andsincethenhardlyadayhaspassedthatwehavenotseensomethingof thebrotherandsister.Theydineheretonight,andthereissometalkofourgoingtothemnextweek.Onewould imagine that suchamatchwouldbeverywelcome toStapleton,andyetIhavemorethanoncecaughtalookofthestrongestdisapprobationinhisface when Sir Henry has been paying some attention to his sister. He is muchattachedtoher,nodoubt,andwouldleadalonelylifewithouther,butitwouldseemtheheightofselfishnessifheweretostandinthewayofhermakingsobrilliantamarriage.Yet I amcertain thathedoesnotwish their intimacy to ripen into love,andIhaveseveraltimesobservedthathehastakenpainstopreventthemfrombeingtete-a-tete.Bytheway,yourinstructionstomenevertoallowSirHenrytogooutalonewillbecomeverymuchmoreonerousifaloveaffairweretobeaddedtoourother difficulties. My popularity would soon suffer if I were to carry out yourorderstotheletter.Theotherday—Thursday, tobemoreexact—Dr.Mortimer lunchedwithus.He

hasbeenexcavatingabarrowatLongDownandhasgotaprehistoricskullwhichfillshimwithgreatjoy.Neverwastheresuchasingle-mindedenthusiastashe!TheStapletonscameinafterwards,and thegooddoctor tookusall to theyewalleyatSir Henry's request to show us exactly how everything occurred upon that fatalnight. It is a long, dismalwalk, the yew alley, between two highwalls of clippedhedge,withanarrowbandofgrassuponeitherside.Atthefarendisanoldtumble-downsummer-house.Halfwaydownisthemoor-gate,wheretheoldgentlemanlefthiscigar-ash.Itisawhitewoodengatewithalatch.Beyonditliesthewidemoor.Irememberedyourtheoryoftheaffairandtriedtopictureallthathadoccurred.Asthe old man stood there he saw something coming across the moor, somethingwhich terrifiedhimso thathe losthiswits and ranand ranuntilhediedof sheerhorrorandexhaustion.Therewasthelong,gloomytunneldownwhichhefled.Andfrom what? A sheep-dog of the moor? Or a spectral hound, black, silent, andmonstrous? Was there a human agency in the matter? Did the pale, watchfulBarrymoreknowmorethanhecaredtosay?Itwasalldimandvague,butalwaysthereisthedarkshadowofcrimebehindit.One other neighbour I have met since I wrote last. This is Mr. Frankland, of

LafterHall,wholivessomefourmilestothesouthofus.Heisanelderlyman,red-faced,white-haired,andcholeric.HispassionisfortheBritishlaw,andhehasspenta large fortune in litigation. He fights for the mere pleasure of fighting and isequallyreadytotakeupeithersideofaquestion,sothatitisnowonderthathehasfounditacostlyamusement.Sometimeshewillshutuparightofwayanddefythe

parish tomakehimopen it.Atothershewillwithhisownhands teardownsomeotherman'sgate anddeclare that apathhas existed there from time immemorial,defyingtheownertoprosecutehimfortrespass.Heislearnedinoldmanorialandcommunal rights, and he applies his knowledge sometimes in favour of thevillagers of Fernworthy and sometimes against them, so that he is periodicallyeithercarriedintriumphdownthevillagestreetorelseburnedineffigy,accordingto his latest exploit. He is said to have about seven lawsuits upon his hands atpresent,whichwillprobablyswallowuptheremainderofhisfortuneandsodrawhis sting and leave him harmless for the future. Apart from the law he seems akindly,good-naturedperson,and IonlymentionhimbecauseyouwereparticularthatIshouldsendsomedescriptionofthepeoplewhosurroundus.Heiscuriouslyemployed at present, for, being an amateur astronomer, he has an excellenttelescope,withwhichheliesupontheroofofhisownhouseandsweepsthemooralldayinthehopeofcatchingaglimpseoftheescapedconvict.Ifhewouldconfinehis energies to this all would be well, but there are rumours that he intends toprosecuteDr.MortimerforopeningagravewithouttheconsentofthenextofkinbecauseheduguptheNeolithicskullinthebarrowonLongDown.Hehelpstokeepour lives frombeingmonotonousandgivesa littlecomicreliefwhere it isbadlyneeded.Andnow,havingbroughtyouuptodateintheescapedconvict,theStapletons,Dr.

Mortimer,andFrankland,ofLafterHall,letmeendonthatwhichismostimportantand tell you more about the Barrymores, and especially about the surprisingdevelopmentoflastnight.Firstofallaboutthetesttelegram,whichyousentfromLondoninordertomake

surethatBarrymorewasreallyhere.Ihavealreadyexplainedthatthetestimonyofthepostmastershowsthatthetestwasworthlessandthatwehavenoproofonewayortheother.ItoldSirHenryhowthematterstood,andheatonce,inhisdownrightfashion, had Barrymore up and asked himwhether he had received the telegramhimself.Barrymoresaidthathehad."Didtheboydeliveritintoyourownhands?"askedSirHenry.Barrymorelookedsurprised,andconsideredforalittletime."No,"saidhe,"Iwas in thebox-roomat the time,andmywifebrought itup to

me.""Didyouanswerityourself?""No;Itoldmywifewhattoanswerandshewentdowntowriteit."Intheeveningherecurredtothesubjectofhisownaccord."I could not quite understand the object of your questions this morning, Sir

Henry," saidhe. "I trust that theydonotmean that Ihavedoneanything to forfeityourconfidence?"

SirHenryhad toassurehim that itwasnot soandpacifyhimbygivinghimaconsiderablepartofhisoldwardrobe,theLondonoutfithavingnowallarrived.Mrs.Barrymore isof interest tome.She isaheavy,solidperson,very limited,

intensely respectable, and inclined to be puritanical.You could hardly conceive alessemotionalsubject.YetIhavetoldyouhow,onthefirstnighthere,Iheardhersobbingbitterly,andsincethenIhavemorethanonceobservedtracesoftearsuponherface.Somedeepsorrowgnawseveratherheart.SometimesIwonderifshehasaguiltymemorywhichhauntsher,andsometimesIsuspectBarrymoreofbeingadomestic tyrant. I have always felt that there was something singular andquestionable in thisman's character, but the adventure of last night brings allmysuspicionstoahead.Andyetitmayseemasmallmatterinitself.YouareawarethatIamnotavery

soundsleeper,andsinceIhavebeenonguardinthishousemyslumbershavebeenlighterthanever.Lastnight,abouttwointhemorning,Iwasarousedbyastealthystep passing my room. I rose, opened my door, and peeped out. A long blackshadowwastrailingdownthecorridor.Itwasthrownbyamanwhowalkedsoftlydownthepassagewithacandleheldinhishand.Hewasinshirtandtrousers,withnocoveringtohisfeet.Icouldmerelyseetheoutline,buthisheighttoldmethatitwasBarrymore.Hewalkedveryslowlyandcircumspectly,andtherewassomethingindescribablyguiltyandfurtiveinhiswholeappearance.Ihavetoldyouthat thecorridorisbrokenbythebalconywhichrunsroundthe

hall,butthatitisresumeduponthefartherside.IwaiteduntilhehadpassedoutofsightandthenIfollowedhim.WhenIcameroundthebalconyhehadreachedtheendof thefarthercorridor,andIcouldseefromtheglimmerof light throughanopen door that he had entered one of the rooms. Now, all these rooms areunfurnished and unoccupied so that his expedition becamemoremysterious thanever.The light shone steadily as if hewere standingmotionless. I crept down thepassageasnoiselesslyasIcouldandpeepedroundthecornerofthedoor.Barrymorewascrouchingat thewindowwith thecandleheldagainst theglass.

His profile was half turned towards me, and his face seemed to be rigid withexpectation as he staredout into theblackness of themoor.For someminutes hestoodwatchingintently.Thenhegaveadeepgroanandwithanimpatientgestureheputoutthelight.InstantlyImademywaybacktomyroom,andveryshortlycamethe stealthy steps passing once more upon their return journey. Long afterwardswhen Ihad fallen intoa light sleep Iheardakey turn somewhere in a lock,but Icouldnottellwhencethesoundcame.WhatitallmeansIcannotguess,butthereissome secret business going on in this house of gloomwhich sooner or laterweshallgettothebottomof.Idonottroubleyouwithmytheories,foryouaskedmetofurnishyouonlywithfacts.IhavehadalongtalkwithSirHenrythismorning,andwehavemadeaplanofcampaignfoundeduponmyobservationsoflastnight.I

will not speak about it just now, but it should make my next report interestingreading.

Chapter9.TheLightupontheMoor[SecondReportofDr.Watson]

BaskervilleHall,Oct.15th.MYDEARHOLMES:IfIwascompelledtoleaveyouwithoutmuchnewsduringtheearlydaysofmymissionyoumustacknowledgethatIammakingupforlosttime,andthateventsarenowcrowdingthickandfastuponus.InmylastreportIendeduponmytopnotewithBarrymoreatthewindow,andnow I have quite a budget already which will, unless I am much mistaken,considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I could not haveanticipated.Insomewaystheyhavewithinthelastforty-eighthoursbecomemuchclearerandinsomewaystheyhavebecomemorecomplicated.ButIwilltellyouallandyoushalljudgeforyourself.Before breakfast on the morning following my adventure I went down the

corridorandexaminedtheroominwhichBarrymorehadbeenonthenightbefore.The western window through which he had stared so intently has, I noticed, onepeculiarityaboveallotherwindowsinthehouse—itcommandsthenearestoutlookontothemoor.Thereisanopeningbetweentwotreeswhichenablesonefromthispointofviewtolookrightdownuponit,whilefromalltheotherwindowsitisonlyadistantglimpsewhichcanbeobtained.Itfollows,therefore,thatBarrymore,sinceonly this window would serve the purpose, must have been looking out forsomething or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark, so that I canhardlyimaginehowhecouldhavehopedtoseeanyone.Ithadstruckmethatitwaspossible that some love intriguewas on foot. Thatwould have accounted for hisstealthymovementsandalsofortheuneasinessofhiswife.Themanisastriking-lookingfellow,verywellequippedtosteal theheartofacountrygirl,so that thistheoryseemedtohavesomethingtosupportit.ThatopeningofthedoorwhichIhadheard after I had returned tomy roommightmean that he had gone out to keepsomeclandestineappointment.SoIreasonedwithmyselfinthemorning,andItellyouthedirectionofmysuspicions,howevermuchtheresultmayhaveshownthattheywereunfounded.ButwhateverthetrueexplanationofBarrymore'smovementsmightbe,Ifeltthat

the responsibilityofkeeping them tomyselfuntil I could explain themwasmorethanIcouldbear.Ihadaninterviewwiththebaronetinhisstudyafterbreakfast,andItoldhimallthatIhadseen.HewaslesssurprisedthanIhadexpected."Iknew thatBarrymorewalkedaboutnights, and I hadamind to speak tohim

aboutit,"saidhe."TwoorthreetimesIhaveheardhisstepsinthepassage,comingandgoing,justaboutthehouryouname."

"Perhapsthenhepaysavisiteverynighttothatparticularwindow,"Isuggested."Perhapshedoes.Ifso,weshouldbeabletoshadowhimandseewhatitisthathe

isafter.IwonderwhatyourfriendHolmeswoulddoifhewerehere.""I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest," said I. "He would

followBarrymoreandseewhathedid.""Thenweshalldoittogether.""Butsurelyhewouldhearus.""Themanisratherdeaf,andinanycasewemusttakeourchanceofthat.We'llsit

up inmyroomtonightandwaituntilhepasses."SirHenryrubbedhishandswithpleasure,anditwasevidentthathehailedtheadventureasarelieftohissomewhatquietlifeuponthemoor.Thebaronethasbeenincommunicationwiththearchitectwhopreparedtheplans

forSirCharles, andwith a contractor fromLondon, so thatwemayexpect greatchanges to begin here soon. There have been decorators and furnishers up fromPlymouth, and it is evident that our friendhas large ideas andmeans to spare nopainsorexpensetorestorethegrandeurofhisfamily.Whenthehouseisrenovatedand refurnished, all thathewillneedwillbeawife tomake it complete.Betweenourselves there are pretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if the lady iswilling,forIhaveseldomseenamanmoreinfatuatedwithawomanthanheiswithourbeautifulneighbour,MissStapleton.Andyet the courseof true lovedoesnotrun quite as smoothly as one would under the circumstances expect. Today, forexample,itssurfacewasbrokenbyaveryunexpectedripple,whichhascausedourfriendconsiderableperplexityandannoyance.After theconversationwhich IhavequotedaboutBarrymore,SirHenryputon

hishatandpreparedtogoout.AsamatterofcourseIdidthesame."What,areyoucoming,Watson?"heasked,lookingatmeinacuriousway."Thatdependsonwhetheryouaregoingonthemoor,"saidI."Yes,Iam.""Well,youknowwhatmy instructionsare. Iamsorry to intrude,butyouheard

howearnestlyHolmes insisted that Ishouldnot leaveyou,andespecially thatyoushouldnotgoaloneuponthemoor."SirHenryputhishanduponmyshoulderwithapleasantsmile."Mydear fellow," saidhe, "Holmes,withallhiswisdom,didnot foresee some

thingswhichhavehappenedsinceIhavebeenon themoor.Youunderstandme?Iamsurethatyouarethelastmanintheworldwhowouldwishtobeaspoil-sport.Imustgooutalone."Itputmeinamostawkwardposition.Iwasatalosswhattosayorwhattodo,

andbeforeIhadmadeupmymindhepickeduphiscaneandwasgone.

ButwhenIcametothinkthematterovermyconsciencereproachedmebitterlyforhavingonanypretextallowedhimtogooutofmysight.I imaginedwhatmyfeelingswouldbeifIhadtoreturntoyouandtoconfessthatsomemisfortunehadoccurred through my disregard for your instructions. I assure you my cheeksflushedattheverythought.Itmightnotevennowbetoolatetoovertakehim,soIsetoffatonceinthedirectionofMerripitHouse.I hurried along the road at the top ofmy speedwithout seeing anything ofSir

Henry,until Icame to thepointwhere themoorpathbranchesoff.There, fearingthatperhapsIhadcomeinthewrongdirectionafterall,ImountedahillfromwhichIcouldcommandaview—thesamehillwhichiscutintothedarkquarry.ThenceIsawhimatonce.Hewasonthemoorpathaboutaquarterofamileoff,andaladywasbyhissidewhocouldonlybeMissStapleton.Itwasclearthattherewasalreadyan understanding between them and that they hadmet by appointment. Theywerewalking slowly along in deep conversation, and I saw her making quick littlemovementsofherhandsasifshewereveryearnestinwhatshewassaying,whilehe listened intently, and once or twice shook his head in strong dissent. I stoodamongtherockswatchingthem,verymuchpuzzledastowhatIshoulddonext.Tofollowthemandbreakintotheirintimateconversationseemedtobeanoutrage,andyetmycleardutywasneverforaninstanttolethimoutofmysight.Toactthespyuponafriendwasahatefultask.Still,Icouldseenobettercoursethantoobservehimfromthehill,andtoclearmyconsciencebyconfessingtohimafterwardswhatIhaddone.ItistruethatifanysuddendangerhadthreatenedhimIwastoofarawaytobeofuse,andyetIamsurethatyouwillagreewithmethatthepositionwasverydifficult,andthattherewasnothingmorewhichIcoulddo.Our friend, Sir Henry, and the lady had halted on the path and were standing

deeplyabsorbedintheirconversation,whenIwassuddenlyawarethatIwasnottheonlywitnessof their interview.Awispofgreenfloatingintheaircaughtmyeye,and another glance showedme that it was carried on a stick by amanwhowasmovingamong thebrokenground. ItwasStapletonwithhisbutterfly-net.Hewasvery much closer to the pair than I was, and he appeared to be moving in theirdirection.AtthisinstantSirHenrysuddenlydrewMissStapletontohisside.Hisarmwasroundher,butitseemedtomethatshewasstrainingawayfromhimwithherfaceaverted.Hestoopedhisheadtohers,andsheraisedonehandasif inprotest.Nextmoment I saw themspringapartand turnhurriedly round.Stapletonwas thecause of the interruption. He was running wildly towards them, his absurd netdanglingbehindhim.Hegesticulatedandalmostdancedwithexcitementinfrontofthe lovers. What the scene meant I could not imagine, but it seemed to me thatStapletonwas abusing Sir Henry, who offered explanations, which becamemoreangry as the other refused to accept them. The lady stood by in haughty silence.Finally Stapleton turned upon his heel and beckoned in a peremptoryway to his

sister,who, after an irresolute glance at SirHenry,walked off by the side of herbrother. The naturalist's angry gestures showed that the lady was included in hisdispleasure.Thebaronetstoodforaminutelookingafterthem,andthenhewalkedslowly back the way that he had come, his head hanging, the very picture ofdejection.What all this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply ashamed to have

witnessed so intimate a scenewithoutmy friend's knowledge. I ran down the hillthereforeandmetthebaronetatthebottom.Hisfacewasflushedwithangerandhisbrowswerewrinkled,likeonewhoisathiswit'sendswhattodo."Halloa,Watson!Wherehaveyoudropped from?" saidhe. "Youdon'tmean to

saythatyoucameaftermeinspiteofall?"Iexplainedeverything tohim:howIhad found it impossible to remainbehind,

how I had followed him, and how I had witnessed all that had occurred. For aninstanthiseyesblazedatme,butmyfranknessdisarmedhisanger,andhebrokeatlastintoaratherruefullaugh."Youwouldhavethoughtthemiddleofthatprairieafairlysafeplaceforaman

tobeprivate,"saidhe,"but,bythunder, thewholecountrysideseemstohavebeenout toseemedomywooing—andamightypoorwooingat that!Wherehadyouengagedaseat?""Iwasonthathill.""Quiteinthebackrow,eh?Butherbrotherwaswelluptothefront.Didyousee

himcomeoutonus?""Yes,Idid.""Didheeverstrikeyouasbeingcrazy—thisbrotherofhers?""Ican'tsaythatheeverdid.""Idaresaynot.Ialwaysthoughthimsaneenoughuntiltoday,butyoucantakeit

frommethateitherheorIoughttobeinastraitjacket.What'sthematterwithme,anyhow?You've livednearmeforsomeweeks,Watson.Tellmestraight,now! IsthereanythingthatwouldpreventmefrommakingagoodhusbandtoawomanthatIloved?""Ishouldsaynot.""Hecan'tobjecttomyworldlyposition,soitmustbemyselfthathehasthisdown

on.Whathasheagainstme?IneverhurtmanorwomaninmylifethatIknowof.Andyethewouldnotsomuchasletmetouchthetipsofherfingers.""Didhesayso?""That,andadealmore.Itellyou,Watson,I'veonlyknownherthesefewweeks,

butfromthefirstIjustfeltthatshewasmadeforme,andshe,too—shewashappywhen shewaswithme, and that I'll swear. There's a light in awoman's eyes that

speakslouderthanwords.ButhehasneverletusgettogetheranditwasonlytodayforthefirsttimethatIsawachanceofhavingafewwordswithheralone.Shewasgladtomeetme,butwhenshediditwasnotlovethatshewouldtalkabout,andshewouldn't have let me talk about it either if she could have stopped it. She keptcomingbacktoitthatthiswasaplaceofdanger,andthatshewouldneverbehappyuntilIhadleftit.ItoldherthatsinceIhadseenherIwasinnohurrytoleaveit,andthatifshereallywantedmetogo,theonlywaytoworkitwasforhertoarrangetogowithme.WiththatIofferedinasmanywordstomarryher,butbeforeshecouldanswer, down came this brother of hers, running at uswith a face on him like amadman.Hewasjustwhitewithrage,andthoselighteyesofhiswereblazingwithfury.WhatwasIdoingwiththelady?HowdaredIofferherattentionswhichweredistastefultoher?DidIthinkthatbecauseIwasabaronetIcoulddowhatIliked?Ifhehadnotbeenherbrother I shouldhaveknownbetterhow toanswerhim.As itwasItoldhimthatmyfeelingstowardshissisterweresuchasIwasnotashamedof,and that Ihoped that shemighthonourmebybecomingmywife.That seemed tomakethematternobetter,sothenIlostmytempertoo,andIansweredhimrathermorehotlythanIshouldperhaps,consideringthatshewasstandingby.Soitendedbyhisgoingoffwithher,asyousaw,andhereamIasbadlypuzzledamanasanyinthiscounty.Justtellmewhatitallmeans,Watson,andI'lloweyoumorethaneverIcanhopetopay."Itriedoneortwoexplanations,but,indeed,Iwascompletelypuzzledmyself.Our

friend's title, his fortune, his age, his character, and his appearance are all in hisfavour,andIknownothingagainsthimunlessitbethisdarkfatewhichrunsinhisfamily.Thathisadvancesshouldberejectedsobrusquelywithoutanyreferencetothelady'sownwishesandthattheladyshouldacceptthesituationwithoutprotestisveryamazing.However,ourconjecturesweresetat restbyavisit fromStapletonhimselfthatveryafternoon.Hehadcometoofferapologiesforhisrudenessofthemorning,andafteralongprivateinterviewwithSirHenryinhisstudytheupshotoftheir conversation was that the breach is quite healed, and that we are to dine atMerripitHousenextFridayasasignofit."Idon'tsaynowthatheisn'tacrazyman,"saidSirHenry;"Ican'tforgetthelook

inhiseyeswhenheranatmethismorning,butImustallowthatnomancouldmakeamorehandsomeapologythanhehasdone.""Didhegiveanyexplanationofhisconduct?""Hissisteriseverythinginhislife,hesays.Thatisnaturalenough,andIamglad

thatheshouldunderstandhervalue.Theyhavealwaysbeentogether,andaccordingtohisaccounthehasbeenaverylonelymanwithonlyherasacompanion,sothatthethoughtoflosingherwasreallyterribletohim.Hehadnotunderstood,hesaid,thatIwasbecomingattachedtoher,butwhenhesawwithhisowneyesthatitwasreallyso,andthatshemightbetakenawayfromhim,itgavehimsuchashockthat

foratimehewasnotresponsibleforwhathesaidordid.Hewasverysorryforallthathadpassed,andherecognizedhowfoolishandhowselfishitwasthatheshouldimagine that he could hold a beautiful woman like his sister to himself for herwholelife.Ifshehadtoleavehimhehadratheritwastoaneighbourlikemyselfthantoanyoneelse.Butinanycaseitwasablowtohimanditwouldtakehimsometimebeforehecouldpreparehimselftomeetit.Hewouldwithdrawalloppositionuponhispart if Iwouldpromise for threemonths to let thematter rest and tobecontentwithcultivatingthelady'sfriendshipduringthat timewithoutclaimingherlove.ThisIpromised,andsothematterrests."Sothereisoneofoursmallmysteriesclearedup.Itissomethingtohavetouched

bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering. We know now whyStapletonlookedwithdisfavouruponhissister'ssuitor—evenwhenthatsuitorwassoeligibleaoneasSirHenry.AndnowIpasson toanother threadwhich Ihaveextricatedoutofthetangledskein,themysteryofthesobsinthenight,ofthetear-stained faceofMrs.Barrymore,of the secret journeyof thebutler to thewesternlattice window. Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have notdisappointed you as an agent—that you do not regret the confidence which youshowed inmewhenyousentmedown.All these thingshavebyonenight'sworkbeenthoroughlycleared.Ihavesaid"byonenight'swork,"but,intruth,itwasbytwonights'work,foron

the firstwedrewentirelyblank. I satupwithSirHenry inhis roomsuntilnearlythree o'clock in the morning, but no sound of any sort did we hear except thechimingclockuponthestairs.Itwasamostmelancholyvigilandendedbyeachofus falling asleep in our chairs. Fortunately we were not discouraged, and wedetermined to try again. The next night we lowered the lamp and sat smokingcigaretteswithoutmaking the least sound. Itwas incredible how slowly thehourscrawledby,andyetwewerehelped through itby thesamesortofpatient interestwhichthehuntermustfeelashewatchesthetrapintowhichhehopesthegamemaywander.Onestruck,andtwo,andwehadalmostforthesecondtimegivenitupindespairwheninaninstantwebothsatboltuprightinourchairswithallourwearysenses keenly on the alert once more. We had heard the creak of a step in thepassage.Verystealthilywehearditpassalonguntilitdiedawayinthedistance.Thenthe

baronetgentlyopenedhisdoorandwesetoutinpursuit.Alreadyourmanhadgoneroundthegalleryandthecorridorwasall indarkness.Softlywestolealonguntilwehadcomeintotheotherwing.Wewerejustintimetocatchaglimpseofthetall,black-beardedfigure,hisshoulders roundedashe tiptoeddownthepassage.Thenhepassedthroughthesamedoorasbefore,andthelightofthecandleframeditinthedarknessandshotonesingleyellowbeamacrossthegloomofthecorridor.Weshuffledcautiouslytowardsit,tryingeveryplankbeforewedaredtoputourwhole

weight upon it.We had taken the precaution of leaving our boots behind us, but,evenso,theoldboardssnappedandcreakedbeneathourtread.Sometimesitseemedimpossiblethatheshouldfailtohearourapproach.However,themanisfortunatelyratherdeaf, andhewasentirelypreoccupied in thatwhichhewasdoing.Whenatlast we reached the door and peeped through we found him crouching at thewindow,candleinhand,hiswhite,intentfacepressedagainstthepane,exactlyasIhadseenhimtwonightsbefore.Wehadarrangednoplanofcampaign,butthebaronetisamantowhomthemost

directway is always themost natural.Hewalked into the room, and ashedid soBarrymoresprangup from thewindowwitha sharphissofhisbreathandstood,lividandtrembling,beforeus.Hisdarkeyes,glaringoutofthewhitemaskofhisface,werefullofhorrorandastonishmentashegazedfromSirHenrytome."Whatareyoudoinghere,Barrymore?""Nothing, sir." His agitation was so great that he could hardly speak, and the

shadowssprangupanddownfromtheshakingofhiscandle."Itwasthewindow,sir.Igoroundatnighttoseethattheyarefastened.""Onthesecondfloor?""Yes,sir,allthewindows.""Lookhere,Barrymore,"saidSirHenrysternly,"wehavemadeupourmindsto

havethetruthoutofyou,soitwillsaveyoutroubletotellitsoonerratherthanlater.Come,now!Nolies!Whatwereyoudoingatthatwindow?"Thefellowlookedatusinahelplessway,andhewrunghishandstogetherlike

onewhoisinthelastextremityofdoubtandmisery."Iwasdoingnoharm,sir.Iwasholdingacandletothewindow.""Andwhywereyouholdingacandletothewindow?""Don'taskme,SirHenry—don'taskme!Igiveyoumyword,sir,thatitisnotmy

secret,andthatIcannottellit.IfitconcernednoonebutmyselfIwouldnottrytokeepitfromyou."Asuddenideaoccurredtome,andItookthecandlefromthetremblinghandof

thebutler."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 into the darkness of the night.Vaguely I coulddiscern theblackbankof the trees and the lighter expanseof themoor,forthemoonwasbehindtheclouds.AndthenIgaveacryofexultation,foratiny pinpoint of yellow light had suddenly transfixed the dark veil, and glowedsteadilyinthecentreoftheblacksquareframedbythewindow."Thereitis!"Icried."No,no,sir,itisnothing—nothingatall!"thebutlerbrokein;"Iassureyou,sir

—""Moveyourlightacrossthewindow,Watson!"criedthebaronet."See,theother

movesalso!Now,yourascal,doyoudenythatitisasignal?Come,speakup!Whoisyourconfederateoutyonder,andwhatisthisconspiracythatisgoingon?"Theman'sfacebecameopenlydefiant."Itismybusiness,andnotyours.Iwillnot

tell.""Thenyouleavemyemploymentrightaway.""Verygood,sir.IfImustImust.""Andyougoindisgrace.Bythunder,youmaywellbeashamedofyourself.Your

familyhaslivedwithmineforoverahundredyearsunderthisroof,andhereIfindyoudeepinsomedarkplotagainstme.""No,no,sir;no,notagainstyou!"Itwasawoman'svoice,andMrs.Barrymore,

palerandmorehorror-struckthanherhusband,wasstandingatthedoor.Herbulkyfigure ina shawlandskirtmighthavebeencomicwere itnot for the intensityoffeelinguponherface."Wehave togo,Eliza.This is the endof it.Youcanpackour things," said the

butler."Oh,John,John,haveIbroughtyoutothis?Itismydoing,SirHenry—allmine.

HehasdonenothingexceptformysakeandbecauseIaskedhim.""Speakout,then!Whatdoesitmean?""Myunhappybrother is starvingon themoor.We cannot let himperish at our

verygates.Thelightisasignaltohimthatfoodisreadyforhim,andhislightoutyonderistoshowthespottowhichtobringit.""Thenyourbrotheris—""Theescapedconvict,sir—Selden,thecriminal.""That'sthetruth,sir,"saidBarrymore."IsaidthatitwasnotmysecretandthatI

couldnottellittoyou.Butnowyouhaveheardit,andyouwillseethatiftherewasaplotitwasnotagainstyou."This,then,wastheexplanationofthestealthyexpeditionsatnightandthelightat

thewindow.SirHenryandIbothstaredatthewomaninamazement.Wasitpossiblethat this stolidly respectable person was of the same blood as one of the mostnotoriouscriminalsinthecountry?"Yes,sir,mynamewasSelden,andheismyyoungerbrother.Wehumouredhim

toomuchwhenhewasaladandgavehimhisownwayineverythinguntilhecametothinkthattheworldwasmadeforhispleasure,andthathecoulddowhathelikedinit.Thenashegrewolderhemetwickedcompanions,andthedevilenteredintohimuntilhebrokemymother'sheartanddraggedournameinthedirt.Fromcrimeto crime he sank lower and lower until it is only the mercy of God which has

snatchedhimfromthescaffold;buttome,sir,hewasalwaysthelittlecurly-headedboy that I had nursed and playedwith as an elder sisterwould. Thatwaswhy hebrokeprison,sir.HeknewthatIwashereandthatwecouldnotrefusetohelphim.Whenhedraggedhimselfhereonenight,wearyandstarving,withthewardershardathisheels,whatcouldwedo?Wetookhiminandfedhimandcaredforhim.Thenyou returned, sir, and my brother thought he would be safer on the moor thananywhereelseuntil thehueandcrywasover,sohe lay inhiding there.Buteverysecondnightwemadesureifhewasstilltherebyputtingalightinthewindow,andiftherewasananswermyhusbandtookoutsomebreadandmeattohim.Everydaywehoped that hewasgone, but as long ashewas therewecouldnotdesert him.Thatisthewholetruth,asIamanhonestChristianwomanandyouwillseethatifthereisblameinthematteritdoesnotliewithmyhusbandbutwithme,forwhosesakehehasdoneallthathehas."Thewoman'swords camewith an intense earnestnesswhich carried conviction

withthem."Isthistrue,Barrymore?""Yes,SirHenry.Everywordofit.""Well,Icannotblameyouforstandingbyyourownwife.ForgetwhatIhavesaid.

Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk further about this matter in themorning."Whentheyweregonewelookedoutofthewindowagain.SirHenryhadflungit

open,andthecoldnightwindbeatinuponourfaces.Farawayintheblackdistancetherestillglowedthatonetinypointofyellowlight."Iwonderhedares,"saidSirHenry."Itmaybesoplacedastobeonlyvisiblefromhere.""Verylikely.Howfardoyouthinkitis?""OutbytheCleftTor,Ithink.""Notmorethanamileortwooff.""Hardlythat.""Well, it cannot be far ifBarrymore had to carry out the food to it.And he is

waiting,thisvillain,besidethatcandle.Bythunder,Watson,Iamgoingouttotakethatman!"Thesamethoughthadcrossedmyownmind.ItwasnotasiftheBarrymoreshad

taken us into their confidence.Their secret had been forced from them.Themanwas a danger to the community, an unmitigated scoundrel for whom there wasneither pity nor excuse. We were only doing our duty in taking this chance ofputting himbackwhere he could do no harm.With his brutal and violent nature,otherswouldhavetopaythepriceifweheldourhands.Anynight,forexample,our

neighbours the Stapletons might be attacked by him, and it may have been thethoughtofthiswhichmadeSirHenrysokeenupontheadventure."Iwillcome,"saidI."Thengetyourrevolverandputonyourboots.Thesoonerwestartthebetter,as

thefellowmayputouthislightandbeoff."In five minutes we were outside the door, starting upon our expedition. We

hurriedthroughthedarkshrubbery,amidthedullmoaningoftheautumnwindandtherustleofthefallingleaves.Thenightairwasheavywiththesmellofdampanddecay.Nowandagainthemoonpeepedoutforaninstant,butcloudsweredrivingoverthefaceofthesky,andjustaswecameoutonthemoorathinrainbegantofall.Thelightstillburnedsteadilyinfront."Areyouarmed?"Iasked."Ihaveahunting-crop.""Wemustcloseinonhimrapidly,forheissaidtobeadesperatefellow.Weshall

takehimbysurpriseandhavehimatourmercybeforehecanresist.""Isay,Watson,"saidthebaronet,"whatwouldHolmessaytothis?Howaboutthat

hourofdarknessinwhichthepowerofevilisexalted?"As if in answer to hiswords there rose suddenly out of the vast gloom of the

moor that strange cry which I had already heard upon the borders of the greatGrimpenMire.Itcamewiththewindthroughthesilenceofthenight,along,deepmutter,thenarisinghowl,andthenthesadmoaninwhichitdiedaway.Againandagainitsounded,thewholeairthrobbingwithit,strident,wild,andmenacing.Thebaronetcaughtmysleeveandhisfaceglimmeredwhitethroughthedarkness."MyGod,what'sthat,Watson?""Idon'tknow.It'sasoundtheyhaveonthemoor.Ihearditoncebefore."Itdiedaway, andanabsolute silenceclosed inuponus.Westood strainingour

ears,butnothingcame."Watson,"saidthebaronet,"itwasthecryofahound."Mybloodrancoldinmyveins,fortherewasabreakinhisvoicewhichtoldof

thesuddenhorrorwhichhadseizedhim."Whatdotheycallthissound?"heasked."Who?""Thefolkonthecountryside.""Oh,theyareignorantpeople.Whyshouldyoumindwhattheycallit?""Tellme,Watson.Whatdotheysayofit?"Ihesitatedbutcouldnotescapethequestion."TheysayitisthecryoftheHoundoftheBaskervilles."

Hegroanedandwassilentforafewmoments."Ahounditwas,"hesaidat last,"but itseemedtocomefrommilesaway,over

yonder,Ithink.""Itwashardtosaywhenceitcame.""Itroseandfellwiththewind.Isn'tthatthedirectionofthegreatGrimpenMire?""Yes,itis.""Well,itwasupthere.Comenow,Watson,didn'tyouthinkyourselfthatitwasthe

cryofahound?Iamnotachild.Youneednotfeartospeakthetruth.""StapletonwaswithmewhenIhearditlast.Hesaidthatitmightbethecallingof

astrangebird.""No,no,itwasahound.MyGod,cantherebesometruthinallthesestories?Isit

possible that Iamreally indanger fromsodarkacause?Youdon'tbelieve it,doyou,Watson?""No,no.""Andyet itwasonethingtolaughaboutit inLondon,andit isanothertostand

outhereinthedarknessofthemoorandtohearsuchacryasthat.Andmyuncle!Therewasthefootprintofthehoundbesidehimashelay.Itallfitstogether.Idon'tthink that Iamacoward,Watson,but thatsoundseemed to freezemyveryblood.Feelmyhand!"Itwasascoldasablockofmarble."You'llbeallrighttomorrow.""Idon'tthinkI'llgetthatcryoutofmyhead.Whatdoyouadvisethatwedonow?""Shallweturnback?""No,bythunder;wehavecomeouttogetourman,andwewilldoit.Weafterthe

convict,andahell-hound,aslikelyasnot,afterus.Comeon!We'llseeitthroughifallthefiendsofthepitwerelooseuponthemoor."Westumbledslowlyalonginthedarkness,withtheblackloomofthecraggyhills

aroundus,andtheyellowspeckoflightburningsteadilyinfront.Thereisnothingsodeceptiveas thedistanceof a lightuponapitch-darknight, and sometimes theglimmerseemedtobefarawayuponthehorizonandsometimesitmighthavebeenwithinafewyardsofus.Butatlastwecouldseewhenceitcame,andthenweknewthatwewere indeed very close. A guttering candlewas stuck in a crevice of therocks which flanked it on each side so as to keep the wind from it and also topreventitfrombeingvisible,saveinthedirectionofBaskervilleHall.Aboulderofgranite concealed our approach, and crouching behind it we gazed over it at thesignal light. Itwasstrangetosee thissinglecandleburningthere in themiddleofthemoor,with no signof life near it—just the one straight yellow flame and thegleamoftherockoneachsideofit.

"Whatshallwedonow?"whisperedSirHenry."Waithere.Hemustbenearhislight.Letusseeifwecangetaglimpseofhim."Thewordswerehardlyoutofmymouthwhenwebothsawhim.Overtherocks,

inthecreviceofwhichthecandleburned,therewasthrustoutanevilyellowface,aterribleanimalface,allseamedandscoredwithvilepassions.Foulwithmire,withabristlingbeard,andhungwithmattedhair,itmightwellhavebelongedtooneofthoseoldsavageswhodweltintheburrowsonthehillsides.Thelightbeneathhimwas reflected in his small, cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right and leftthroughthedarknesslikeacraftyandsavageanimalwhohasheardthestepsofthehunters.Somethinghadevidentlyarousedhissuspicions.ItmayhavebeenthatBarrymore

hadsomeprivatesignalwhichwehadneglectedtogive,orthefellowmayhavehadsomeotherreasonforthinkingthatallwasnotwell,butIcouldreadhisfearsuponhiswickedface.Anyinstanthemightdashoutthelightandvanishinthedarkness.Isprang forward therefore, and Sir Henry did the same. At the same moment theconvictscreamedoutacurseatusandhurledarockwhichsplinteredupagainsttheboulderwhichhadshelteredus. Icaughtoneglimpseofhis short, squat, stronglybuilt figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run.At the samemoment by aluckychancethemoonbrokethroughtheclouds.Werushedover thebrowof thehill,andtherewasourmanrunningwithgreatspeeddowntheotherside,springingoverthestonesinhiswaywiththeactivityofamountaingoat.Aluckylongshotofmyrevolvermighthavecrippledhim,butIhadbroughtitonlytodefendmyselfifattackedandnottoshootanunarmedmanwhowasrunningaway.Wewerebothswiftrunnersandinfairlygoodtraining,butwesoonfoundthatwe

hadnochanceofovertakinghim.Wesawhimforalongtimeinthemoonlightuntilhewasonlya small speckmovingswiftlyamong thebouldersupon thesideofadistanthill.Weranandranuntilwewerecompletelyblown,butthespacebetweenus grew ever wider. Finally we stopped and sat panting on two rocks, while wewatchedhimdisappearinginthedistance.And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strange and unexpected

thing.Wehadrisenfromourrocksandwereturningtogohome,havingabandonedthehopelesschase.Themoonwaslowupontheright,andthejaggedpinnacleofagranite tor stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc. There, outlined asblackasanebonystatueonthatshiningbackground,Isawthefigureofamanuponthetor.Donotthinkthatitwasadelusion,Holmes.IassureyouthatIhaveneverinmylifeseenanythingmoreclearly.AsfarasIcouldjudge,thefigurewasthatofatall, thinman.He stoodwith his legs a little separated, his arms folded, his headbowed,as ifhewerebroodingover thatenormouswildernessofpeatandgranitewhichlaybeforehim.Hemighthavebeentheveryspiritofthatterribleplace.Itwasnot theconvict.Thismanwasfarfromtheplacewherethelatterhaddisappeared.

Besides,hewasamuchtallerman.WithacryofsurpriseIpointedhimouttothebaronet,butintheinstantduringwhichIhadturnedtograsphisarmthemanwasgone. Therewas the sharp pinnacle of granite still cutting the lower edge of themoon,butitspeakborenotraceofthatsilentandmotionlessfigure.Iwished to go in that direction and to search the tor, but itwas some distance

away. The baronet's nerveswere still quivering from that cry,which recalled thedarkstoryofhisfamily,andhewasnotinthemoodforfreshadventures.Hehadnotseenthislonelymanuponthetorandcouldnotfeelthethrillwhichhisstrangepresenceandhiscommandingattitudehadgiventome."Awarder,nodoubt,"saidhe."Themoorhasbeenthickwiththemsincethisfellowescaped."Well,perhapshisexplanationmaybetherightone,butIshouldliketohavesomefurtherproofofit.Todaywemeantocommunicate to thePrincetownpeoplewheretheyshouldlookfortheirmissingman,butitishardlinesthatwehavenotactuallyhadthetriumphofbringinghimbackasourownprisoner.Sucharetheadventuresoflastnight,andyou must acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well in thematterofareport.MuchofwhatItellyouisnodoubtquiteirrelevant,butstillIfeelthat it is best that I should let you have all the facts and leave you to select foryourself those which will be of most service to you in helping you to yourconclusions.Wearecertainlymakingsomeprogress.SofarastheBarrymoresgowehavefoundthemotiveoftheiractions,andthathasclearedupthesituationverymuch. But the moor with its mysteries and its strange inhabitants remains asinscrutableasever.PerhapsinmynextImaybeabletothrowsomelightuponthisalso.Bestofallwoulditbeifyoucouldcomedowntous.Inanycaseyouwillhearfrommeagaininthecourseofthenextfewdays.

Chapter10.ExtractfromtheDiaryofDr.WatsonSofarIhavebeenabletoquotefromthereportswhichIhaveforwardedduring

theseearlydaystoSherlockHolmes.Now,however,IhavearrivedatapointinmynarrativewhereIamcompelledtoabandonthismethodandto trustoncemoretomyrecollections,aidedbythediarywhichIkeptatthetime.Afewextractsfromthelatterwillcarrymeontothosesceneswhichareindeliblyfixedineverydetailuponmymemory.Iproceed,then,fromthemorningwhichfollowedourabortivechaseoftheconvictandourotherstrangeexperiencesuponthemoor.October16th.Adullandfoggydaywithadrizzleofrain.Thehouseisbankedin

withrollingclouds,whichrisenowandthentoshowthedrearycurvesofthemoor,withthin,silverveinsuponthesidesofthehills,andthedistantbouldersgleamingwhere the light strikes upon theirwet faces. It ismelancholy outside and in. Thebaronet is in a black reaction after the excitements of the night. I am consciousmyself of aweight atmyheart and a feeling of impending danger—ever presentdanger,whichisthemoreterriblebecauseIamunabletodefineit.AndhaveInotcauseforsuchafeeling?Considerthelongsequenceofincidents

whichhaveallpointedtosomesinisterinfluencewhichisatworkaroundus.ThereisthedeathofthelastoccupantoftheHall,fulfillingsoexactlytheconditionsofthefamilylegend,andtherearetherepeatedreportsfrompeasantsoftheappearanceofastrangecreatureuponthemoor.TwiceIhavewithmyownearsheardthesoundwhich resembled thedistantbayingof ahound. It is incredible, impossible, that itshouldreallybeoutsidetheordinarylawsofnature.Aspectralhoundwhichleavesmaterialfootmarksandfillstheairwithitshowlingissurelynottobethoughtof.Stapletonmayfallinwithsuchasuperstition,andMortimeralso,butifIhaveonequalityuponearthit iscommonsense,andnothingwillpersuademetobelieveinsuchathing.Todosowouldbetodescendtothelevelofthesepoorpeasants,whoare not contentwith amere fiend dog butmust needs describe himwith hell-fireshootingfromhismouthandeyes.Holmeswouldnot listen tosuchfancies,andIamhisagent.Butfactsarefacts,andIhavetwiceheardthiscryinguponthemoor.Supposethattherewerereallysomehugehoundlooseuponit;thatwouldgofartoexplaineverything.Butwherecouldsuchahoundlieconcealed,wherediditgetitsfood,where did it come from, howwas it that no one saw it by day? Itmust be

confessedthatthenaturalexplanationoffersalmostasmanydifficultiesastheother.Andalways,apartfromthehound,thereisthefactofthehumanagencyinLondon,themaninthecab,andtheletterwhichwarnedSirHenryagainstthemoor.Thisatleastwasreal,butitmighthavebeentheworkofaprotectingfriendaseasilyasofanenemy.Whereisthatfriendorenemynow?HasheremainedinLondon,orhashefollowedusdownhere?Couldhe—couldhebe thestrangerwhomIsawuponthetor?ItistruethatIhavehadonlytheoneglanceathim,andyettherearesomethings

towhichIamreadytoswear.HeisnoonewhomIhaveseendownhere,andIhavenowmet all the neighbours. The figure was far taller than that of Stapleton, farthinnerthanthatofFrankland.Barrymoreitmightpossiblyhavebeen,butwehadlefthimbehindus,andIamcertainthathecouldnothavefollowedus.Astrangerthen is still dogging us, just as a stranger dogged us in London.We have nevershakenhimoff. If I could laymyhandsupon thatman, thenat lastwemight findourselvesattheendofallourdifficulties.TothisonepurposeImustnowdevoteallmyenergies.MyfirstimpulsewastotellSirHenryallmyplans.Mysecondandwisestoneis

to playmy own game and speak as little as possible to anyone. He is silent anddistrait.Hisnerveshavebeenstrangelyshakenbythatsounduponthemoor.Iwillsaynothing toadd tohisanxieties,but Iwill takemyownsteps toattainmyownend.We had a small scene this morning after breakfast. Barrymore asked leave to

speakwithSirHenry,andtheywereclosetedinhisstudysomelittletime.Sittinginthe billiard-room Imore thanonceheard the soundof voices raised, and I had aprettygood ideawhat thepointwaswhichwasunderdiscussion.After a time thebaronet opened his door and called for me. "Barrymore considers that he has agrievance,"hesaid."Hethinksthatitwasunfaironourparttohunthisbrother-in-lawdownwhenhe,ofhisownfreewill,hadtoldusthesecret."Thebutlerwasstandingverypalebutverycollectedbeforeus."Imayhavespokentoowarmly,sir,"saidhe,"andifIhave,IamsurethatIbeg

your pardon.At the same time, Iwas verymuch surprisedwhen I heardyou twogentlemencomeback thismorningand learned thatyouhadbeenchasingSelden.The poor fellow has enough to fight against without my putting more upon histrack.""Ifyouhad toldusofyourownfreewill itwouldhavebeenadifferent thing,"

said thebaronet, "youonly toldus,or ratheryourwifeonly toldus,when itwasforcedfromyouandyoucouldnothelpyourself.""Ididn'tthinkyouwouldhavetakenadvantageofit,SirHenry—indeedIdidn't.""Theman is apublicdanger.There are lonelyhouses scatteredover themoor,

andheisafellowwhowouldstickatnothing.Youonlywanttogetaglimpseofhisfacetoseethat.LookatMr.Stapleton'shouse,forexample,withnoonebuthimselftodefendit.There'snosafetyforanyoneuntilheisunderlockandkey.""He'llbreakintonohouse,sir.Igiveyoumysolemnworduponthat.Buthewill

never troubleanyone in thiscountryagain. Iassureyou,SirHenry, that inaveryfewdaysthenecessaryarrangementswillhavebeenmadeandhewillbeonhiswaytoSouthAmerica.ForGod'ssake,sir,Ibegofyounottoletthepoliceknowthatheisstillonthemoor.Theyhavegivenupthechasethere,andhecanliequietuntiltheship is ready for him.You can't tell on himwithout gettingmywife andme intotrouble.Ibegyou,sir,tosaynothingtothepolice.""Whatdoyousay,Watson?"Ishruggedmyshoulders."Ifheweresafelyoutofthecountryitwouldrelievethe

tax-payerofaburden.""Buthowaboutthechanceofhisholdingsomeoneupbeforehegoes?""Hewouldnotdoanythingsomad,sir.Wehaveprovidedhimwithallthathecan

want.Tocommitacrimewouldbetoshowwherehewashiding.""Thatistrue,"saidSirHenry."Well,Barrymore—""Godblessyou,sir,andthankyoufrommyheart!Itwouldhavekilledmypoor

wifehadhebeentakenagain.""I guesswe are aiding and abetting a felony,Watson?But, afterwhatwe have

heard Idon't feelas if Icouldgive themanup,so there isanendof it.All right,Barrymore,youcango."Witha fewbrokenwordsofgratitude theman turned,buthehesitatedand then

cameback."You'vebeensokindtous,sir, thatIshouldliketodothebestIcanforyouin

return.Iknowsomething,SirHenry,andperhapsIshouldhavesaiditbefore,butitwaslongaftertheinquestthatIfounditout.I'veneverbreathedawordaboutityettomortalman.It'saboutpoorSirCharles'sdeath."ThebaronetandIwerebothuponourfeet."Doyouknowhowhedied?""No,sir,Idon'tknowthat.""Whatthen?""Iknowwhyhewasatthegateatthathour.Itwastomeetawoman.""Tomeetawoman!He?""Yes,sir.""Andthewoman'sname?""Ican'tgiveyouthename,sir,butIcangiveyoutheinitials.HerinitialswereL.

L."

"Howdoyouknowthis,Barrymore?""Well, SirHenry, your uncle had a letter thatmorning.He had usually a great

many letters, for hewas a publicman andwell known for his kind heart, so thateveryone who was in trouble was glad to turn to him. But that morning, as itchanced,therewasonlythisoneletter,soItookthemorenoticeofit.ItwasfromCoombeTracey,anditwasaddressedinawoman'shand.""Well?""Well,sir,Ithoughtnomoreofthematter,andneverwouldhavedonehaditnot

beenformywife.OnlyafewweeksagoshewascleaningoutSirCharles'sstudy—ithadneverbeentouchedsincehisdeath—andshefoundtheashesofaburnedletterinthebackof thegrate.Thegreaterpartof itwascharredtopieces,butonelittleslip,theendofapage,hungtogether,andthewritingcouldstillberead,thoughitwasgrayonablackground.Itseemedtoustobeapostscriptattheendoftheletteranditsaid:'Please,please,asyouareagentleman,burnthisletter,andbeatthegatebytenoclock.BeneathitweresignedtheinitialsL.L.""Haveyougotthatslip?""No,sir,itcrumbledalltobitsafterwemovedit.""HadSirCharlesreceivedanyotherlettersinthesamewriting?""Well,sir,Itooknoparticularnoticeofhisletters.Ishouldnothavenoticedthis

one,onlyithappenedtocomealone.""AndyouhavenoideawhoL.L.is?""No,sir.Nomorethanyouhave.ButIexpectifwecouldlayourhandsuponthat

ladyweshouldknowmoreaboutSirCharles'sdeath.""I cannot understand, Barrymore, how you came to conceal this important

information.""Well, sir, it was immediately after that our own trouble came to us.And then

again, sir, we were both of us very fond of Sir Charles, as we well might beconsidering all that he has done for us. To rake this up couldn't help our poormaster,andit'swelltogocarefullywhenthere'saladyinthecase.Eventhebestofus—""Youthoughtitmightinjurehisreputation?""Well,sir,Ithoughtnogoodcouldcomeofit.Butnowyouhavebeenkindtous,

andIfeelasifitwouldbetreatingyouunfairlynottotellyouallthatIknowaboutthematter.""Very good, Barrymore; you can go." When the butler had left us Sir Henry

turnedtome."Well,Watson,whatdoyouthinkofthisnewlight?""Itseemstoleavethedarknessratherblackerthanbefore.""SoIthink.ButifwecanonlytraceL.L.itshouldclearupthewholebusiness.We

havegainedthatmuch.Weknowthatthereissomeonewhohasthefactsifwecanonlyfindher.Whatdoyouthinkweshoulddo?""LetHolmesknowallaboutitatonce.Itwillgivehimtheclueforwhichhehas

beenseeking.Iammuchmistakenifitdoesnotbringhimdown."Iwentatoncetomyroomanddrewupmyreportofthemorning'sconversation

forHolmes. Itwasevident tome thathehadbeenverybusyof late, for thenoteswhich I had from Baker Street were few and short, with no comments upon theinformationwhichIhadsuppliedandhardlyanyreferencetomymission.Nodoubthis blackmailing case is absorbing all his faculties.And yet this new factormustsurelyarresthisattentionandrenewhisinterest.Iwishthathewerehere.October 17th. All day today the rain poured down, rustling on the ivy and

dripping from the eaves. I thought of the convict out upon the bleak, cold,shelterlessmoor. Poor devil!Whatever his crimes, he has suffered something toatoneforthem.AndthenIthoughtofthatotherone—thefaceinthecab,thefigureagainstthemoon.Washealsooutinthatdeluged—theunseenwatcher,themanofdarkness?IntheeveningIputonmywaterproofandIwalkedfaruponthesoddenmoor,fullofdarkimaginings,therainbeatinguponmyfaceandthewindwhistlingaboutmyears.Godhelp thosewhowander into thegreatmirenow, for even thefirmuplandsarebecomingamorass.IfoundtheblacktoruponwhichIhadseenthesolitary watcher, and from its craggy summit I looked out myself across themelancholydowns.Rainsquallsdriftedacrosstheirrussetface,andtheheavy,slate-coloured clouds hung low over the landscape, trailing in graywreaths down thesidesofthefantastichills.Inthedistanthollowontheleft,halfhiddenbythemist,the two thin towers ofBaskervilleHall rose above the trees. Theywere the onlysignsofhuman lifewhich I could see, saveonly thoseprehistorichutswhich laythicklyupontheslopesofthehills.NowherewasthereanytraceofthatlonelymanwhomIhadseenonthesamespottwonightsbefore.AsIwalkedbackIwasovertakenbyDr.Mortimerdrivinginhisdog-cartovera

roughmoorlandtrackwhichledfromtheoutlyingfarmhouseofFoulmire.Hehasbeenveryattentive tous,andhardlyadayhaspassed thathehasnotcalledat theHalltoseehowweweregettingon.Heinsisteduponmyclimbingintohisdog-cart,andhegavemealifthomeward.Ifoundhimmuchtroubledoverthedisappearanceofhislittlespaniel.Ithadwanderedontothemoorandhadnevercomeback.IgavehimsuchconsolationasImight,butIthoughtoftheponyontheGrimpenMire,andIdonotfancythathewillseehislittledogagain."Bytheway,Mortimer,"saidIaswejoltedalongtheroughroad,"Isupposethere

arefewpeoplelivingwithindrivingdistanceofthiswhomyoudonotknow?""Hardlyany,Ithink.""Canyou,then,tellmethenameofanywomanwhoseinitialsareL.L.?"

Hethoughtforafewminutes."No," said he. "There are a few gipsies and labouring folk for whom I can't

answer,butamong the farmersorgentry there isnoonewhose initialsare those.Waitabitthough,"headdedafterapause."ThereisLauraLyons—herinitialsareL.L.—butshelivesinCoombeTracey.""Whoisshe?"Iasked."SheisFrankland'sdaughter.""What!OldFranklandthecrank?""Exactly.ShemarriedanartistnamedLyons,whocamesketchingon themoor.

Heprovedtobeablackguardanddesertedher.ThefaultfromwhatIhearmaynothavebeenentirelyononeside.Herfatherrefusedtohaveanythingtodowithherbecause she had married without his consent and perhaps for one or two otherreasons aswell. So, between the old sinner and the young one the girl has had aprettybadtime.""Howdoesshelive?""IfancyoldFranklandallowsherapittance,but itcannotbemore,forhisown

affairsareconsiderably involved.Whatevershemayhavedeservedonecouldnotallowhertogohopelesslytothebad.Herstorygotabout,andseveralofthepeopleheredidsomethingtoenablehertoearnanhonestliving.Stapletondidforone,andSirCharlesforanother.Igaveatriflemyself.Itwastosetherupinatypewritingbusiness."He wanted to know the object of my inquiries, but I managed to satisfy his

curiositywithouttellinghimtoomuch,forthereisnoreasonwhyweshouldtakeanyone into our confidence.Tomorrowmorning I shall findmyway toCoombeTracey,andifIcanseethisMrs.LauraLyons,ofequivocalreputation,alongstepwillhavebeenmadetowardsclearingoneincidentinthischainofmysteries.Iamcertainly developing the wisdom of the serpent, for when Mortimer pressed hisquestions to an inconvenient extent I asked him casually towhat type Frankland'sskullbelonged,andsoheardnothingbutcraniologyfortherestofourdrive.IhavenotlivedforyearswithSherlockHolmesfornothing.Ihaveonlyoneother incident to recordupon this tempestuousandmelancholy

day.ThiswasmyconversationwithBarrymorejustnow,whichgivesmeonemorestrongcardwhichIcanplayinduetime.Mortimerhadstayedtodinner,andheandthebaronetplayedecarteafterwards.

Thebutlerbroughtmemycoffeeintothelibrary,andItookthechancetoaskhimafewquestions."Well,"saidI,"hasthispreciousrelationofyoursdeparted,orishestilllurking

outyonder?"

"Idon'tknow,sir.Ihopetoheaventhathehasgone,forhehasbroughtnothingbuttroublehere!I'venotheardofhimsinceIleftoutfoodforhimlast,andthatwasthreedaysago.""Didyouseehimthen?""No,sir,butthefoodwasgonewhennextIwentthatway.""Thenhewascertainlythere?""Soyouwouldthink,sir,unlessitwastheothermanwhotookit."Isatwithmycoffee-cuphalfwaytomylipsandstaredatBarrymore."Youknowthatthereisanothermanthen?""Yes,sir;thereisanothermanuponthemoor.""Haveyouseenhim?""No,sir.""Howdoyouknowofhimthen?""Seldentoldmeofhim,sir,aweekagoormore.He'sinhiding,too,buthe'snota

convictasfarasIcanmakeout.Idon'tlikeit,Dr.Watson—Itellyoustraight,sir,thatIdon'tlikeit."Hespokewithasuddenpassionofearnestness."Now,listentome,Barrymore!Ihavenointerestinthismatterbutthatofyour

master.Ihavecomeherewithnoobjectexcepttohelphim.Tellme,frankly,whatitisthatyoudon'tlike."Barrymore hesitated for a moment, as if he regretted his outburst or found it

difficulttoexpresshisownfeelingsinwords."It'sall thesegoings-on,sir,"hecriedat last,wavinghishandtowardstherain-

lashedwindowwhich faced themoor. "There's foul play somewhere, and there'sblackvillainybrewing,tothatI'llswear!VerygladIshouldbe,sir,toseeSirHenryonhiswaybacktoLondonagain!""Butwhatisitthatalarmsyou?""LookatSirCharles'sdeath!Thatwasbadenough,forallthatthecoronersaid.

Look at the noises on themoor at night. There's not amanwould cross it aftersundownifhewaspaidforit.Lookatthisstrangerhidingoutyonder,andwatchingandwaiting!What'shewaitingfor?Whatdoesitmean?ItmeansnogoodtoanyoneofthenameofBaskerville,andverygladIshallbetobequitofitallonthedaythatSirHenry'snewservantsarereadytotakeovertheHall.""Butaboutthisstranger,"saidI."Canyoutellmeanythingabouthim?Whatdid

Seldensay?Didhefindoutwherehehid,orwhathewasdoing?""Hesawhimonceortwice,butheisadeeponeandgivesnothingaway.Atfirst

hethoughtthathewasthepolice,butsoonhefoundthathehadsomelayofhisown.Akindofgentlemanhewas,asfarashecouldsee,butwhathewasdoinghecould

notmakeout.""Andwheredidhesaythathelived?""Amongtheoldhousesonthehillside—thestonehutswheretheoldfolkusedto

live.""Buthowabouthisfood?""Selden found out that he has got a lad who works for him and brings all he

needs.IdaresayhegoestoCoombeTraceyforwhathewants.""Verygood,Barrymore.Wemaytalkfurtherofthissomeothertime."Whenthe

butlerhadgoneIwalkedovertotheblackwindow,andIlookedthroughablurredpaneatthedrivingcloudsandatthetossingoutlineofthewind-swepttrees.Itisawildnightindoors,andwhatmustitbeinastonehutuponthemoor.Whatpassionofhatredcanitbewhichleadsamantolurkinsuchaplaceatsuchatime!Andwhatdeepandearnestpurposecanhehavewhichcallsforsuchatrial!There,inthathutuponthemoor,seemstolietheverycentreofthatproblemwhichhasvexedmesosorely.IswearthatanotherdayshallnothavepassedbeforeIhavedoneallthatmancandotoreachtheheartofthemystery.

Chapter11.TheManontheTorTheextractfrommyprivatediarywhichformsthelastchapterhasbroughtmy

narrativeuptotheeighteenthofOctober,atimewhenthesestrangeeventsbegantomoveswiftly towards their terribleconclusion.The incidentsof thenext fewdaysareindeliblygravenuponmyrecollection,andIcantellthemwithoutreferencetothe notes made at the time. I start them from the day which succeeded that uponwhichIhadestablishedtwofactsofgreatimportance,theonethatMrs.LauraLyonsofCoombeTraceyhadwrittentoSirCharlesBaskervilleandmadeanappointmentwithhimattheveryplaceandhourthathemethisdeath,theotherthatthelurkingmanupon themoorwas tobe foundamong thestonehutsupon thehillside.Withthese two facts inmy possession I felt that eithermy intelligence ormy couragemustbedeficientifIcouldnotthrowsomefurtherlightuponthesedarkplaces.IhadnoopportunitytotellthebaronetwhatIhadlearnedaboutMrs.Lyonsupon

theeveningbefore,forDr.Mortimerremainedwithhimatcardsuntil itwasverylate. At breakfast, however, I informed him about my discovery and asked himwhetherhewouldcare toaccompanyme toCoombeTracey.At firsthewasveryeagertocome,butonsecondthoughtsitseemedtobothofusthatifIwentalonetheresultsmightbebetter.Themoreformalwemadethevisitthelessinformationwemight obtain. I left Sir Henry behind, therefore, not without some prickings ofconscience,anddroveoffuponmynewquest.WhenI reachedCoombeTraceyI toldPerkins toputup thehorses,andImade

inquiriesfortheladywhomIhadcometointerrogate.Ihadnodifficultyinfindingher rooms,whichwerecentral andwell appointed.Amaid showedme inwithoutceremony, and as I entered the sitting-room a lady, who was sitting before aRemington typewriter, sprangupwithapleasant smileofwelcome.Her face fell,however,whenshesawthatIwasastranger,andshesatdownagainandaskedmetheobjectofmyvisit.ThefirstimpressionleftbyMrs.Lyonswasoneofextremebeauty.Hereyesand

hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and her cheeks, though considerablyfreckled, were flushed with the exquisite bloom of the brunette, the dainty pinkwhich lurks at the heart of the sulphur rose. Admiration was, I repeat, the firstimpression.But thesecondwascriticism.Therewassomethingsubtlywrongwiththe face, some coarseness of expression, some hardness, perhaps, of eye, somelooseness of lip which marred its perfect beauty. But these, of course, areafterthoughts.AtthemomentIwassimplyconsciousthatIwasinthepresenceofaveryhandsomewoman,andthatshewasaskingmethereasonsformyvisit.Ihad

notquiteunderstooduntilthatinstanthowdelicatemymissionwas."Ihavethepleasure,"saidI,"ofknowingyourfather."Itwasaclumsyintroduction,andthe ladymademefeel it."There isnothingin

commonbetweenmyfatherandme,"shesaid."Iowehimnothing,andhisfriendsarenotmine.IfitwerenotforthelateSirCharlesBaskervilleandsomeotherkindheartsImighthavestarvedforallthatmyfathercared.""ItwasaboutthelateSirCharlesBaskervillethatIhavecomeheretoseeyou."Thefrecklesstartedoutonthelady'sface."What can I tell you about him?" she asked, and her fingers played nervously

overthestopsofhertypewriter."Youknewhim,didyounot?""IhavealreadysaidthatIoweagreatdealtohiskindness.IfIamabletosupport

myselfitislargelyduetotheinterestwhichhetookinmyunhappysituation.""Didyoucorrespondwithhim?"Theladylookedquicklyupwithanangrygleaminherhazeleyes."Whatistheobjectofthesequestions?"sheaskedsharply."Theobject is to avoidapublic scandal. It isbetter that I shouldask themhere

thanthatthemattershouldpassoutsideourcontrol."She was silent and her face was still very pale. At last she looked up with

somethingrecklessanddefiantinhermanner."Well,I'llanswer,"shesaid."Whatareyourquestions?""DidyoucorrespondwithSirCharles?""I certainly wrote to him once or twice to acknowledge his delicacy and his

generosity.""Haveyouthedatesofthoseletters?""No.""Haveyouevermethim?""Yes,onceortwice,whenhecameintoCoombeTracey.Hewasaveryretiring

man,andhepreferredtodogoodbystealth.""But ifyousawhimsoseldomandwrotesoseldom,howdidheknowenough

aboutyouraffairstobeabletohelpyou,asyousaythathehasdone?"Shemetmydifficultywiththeutmostreadiness."Therewereseveralgentlemenwhoknewmysadhistoryandunitedtohelpme.

OnewasMr. Stapleton, a neighbour and intimate friend of Sir Charles's.Hewasexceedinglykind,anditwasthroughhimthatSirCharleslearnedaboutmyaffairs."IknewalreadythatSirCharlesBaskervillehadmadeStapletonhisalmonerupon

severaloccasions,sothelady'sstatementboretheimpressoftruthuponit."DidyoueverwritetoSirCharlesaskinghimtomeetyou?"Icontinued.Mrs. Lyons flushed with anger again. "Really, sir, this is a very extraordinary

question.""Iamsorry,madam,butImustrepeatit.""ThenIanswer,certainlynot.""NotontheverydayofSirCharles'sdeath?"Theflushhadfadedinaninstant,andadeathlyfacewasbeforeme.Herdrylips

couldnotspeakthe"No"whichIsawratherthanheard."Surelyyourmemorydeceivesyou,"saidI."Icouldevenquoteapassageofyour

letter.Itran'Please,please,asyouareagentleman,burnthisletter,andbeatthegatebyteno'clock.'"Ithoughtthatshehadfainted,butsherecoveredherselfbyasupremeeffort."Istherenosuchthingasagentleman?"shegasped."YoudoSirCharles an injustice.He did burn the letter.But sometimes a letter

maybelegibleevenwhenburned.Youacknowledgenowthatyouwroteit?""Yes,Ididwriteit,"shecried,pouringouthersoulinatorrentofwords."Idid

writeit.WhyshouldIdenyit?Ihavenoreasontobeashamedofit.Iwishedhimtohelpme.IbelievedthatifIhadaninterviewIcouldgainhishelp,soIaskedhimtomeetme.""Butwhyatsuchanhour?""BecauseIhadonlyjustlearnedthathewasgoingtoLondonnextdayandmight

beawayformonths.TherewerereasonswhyIcouldnotgetthereearlier.""Butwhyarendezvousinthegardeninsteadofavisittothehouse?""Doyouthinkawomancouldgoaloneatthathourtoabachelor'shouse?""Well,whathappenedwhenyoudidgetthere?""Ineverwent.""Mrs.Lyons!""No,IswearittoyouonallIholdsacred.Ineverwent.Somethingintervenedto

preventmygoing.""Whatwasthat?""Thatisaprivatematter.Icannottellit.""YouacknowledgethenthatyoumadeanappointmentwithSirCharlesatthevery

hour and place at which he met his death, but you deny that you kept theappointment.""Thatisthetruth."

AgainandagainIcross-questionedher,butIcouldnevergetpastthatpoint."Mrs.Lyons,"saidIasIrosefromthislongandinconclusiveinterview,"youare

takingaverygreatresponsibilityandputtingyourselfinaveryfalsepositionbynotmakinganabsolutelycleanbreastofallthatyouknow.IfIhavetocallintheaidofthe police youwill find how seriously you are compromised. If your position isinnocent,whydidyouinthefirstinstancedenyhavingwrittentoSirCharlesuponthatdate?""Because I feared that some falseconclusionmightbedrawn from it and that I

mightfindmyselfinvolvedinascandal.""AndwhywereyousopressingthatSirCharlesshoulddestroyyourletter?""Ifyouhavereadtheletteryouwillknow.""IdidnotsaythatIhadreadalltheletter.""Youquotedsomeofit.""Iquoted thepostscript.The letterhad,as I said,beenburnedand itwasnotall

legible.IaskyouonceagainwhyitwasthatyouweresopressingthatSirCharlesshoulddestroythisletterwhichhereceivedonthedayofhisdeath.""Thematterisaveryprivateone.""Themorereasonwhyyoushouldavoidapublicinvestigation.""Iwilltellyou,then.Ifyouhaveheardanythingofmyunhappyhistoryyouwill

knowthatImadearashmarriageandhadreasontoregretit.""Ihaveheardsomuch.""MylifehasbeenoneincessantpersecutionfromahusbandwhomIabhor.The

lawisuponhisside,andeverydayIamfacedbythepossibilitythathemayforcemetolivewithhim.AtthetimethatIwrotethislettertoSirCharlesIhadlearnedthattherewasaprospectofmyregainingmyfreedomifcertainexpensescouldbemet.Itmeanteverythingtome—peaceofmind,happiness,self-respect—everything.I knewSirCharles's generosity, and I thought that if he heard the story frommyownlipshewouldhelpme.""Thenhowisitthatyoudidnotgo?""BecauseIreceivedhelpintheintervalfromanothersource.""Whythen,didyounotwritetoSirCharlesandexplainthis?""SoIshouldhavedonehadInotseenhisdeathinthepapernextmorning."Thewoman'sstoryhungcoherentlytogether,andallmyquestionswereunableto

shake it. I could only check it by finding if she had, indeed, instituted divorceproceedingsagainstherhusbandatoraboutthetimeofthetragedy.ItwasunlikelythatshewoulddaretosaythatshehadnotbeentoBaskervilleHall

ifshereallyhadbeen,foratrapwouldbenecessarytotakeherthere,andcouldnot

have returned to Coombe Tracey until the early hours of the morning. Such anexcursion could not be kept secret. The probability was, therefore, that she wastellingthetruth,or,atleast,apartofthetruth.Icameawaybaffledanddisheartened.OnceagainIhadreachedthatdeadwallwhichseemedtobebuiltacrosseverypathbywhichItriedtogetattheobjectofmymission.AndyetthemoreIthoughtofthelady's faceandofhermanner themore I felt that somethingwasbeingheldbackfrom me. Why should she turn so pale? Why should she fight against everyadmissionuntilitwasforcedfromher?Whyshouldshehavebeensoreticentatthetimeofthetragedy?Surelytheexplanationofallthiscouldnotbeasinnocentasshewouldhavemebelieve.ForthemomentIcouldproceednofartherinthatdirection,butmust turnback to thatothercluewhichwas tobe sought foramong the stonehutsuponthemoor.Andthatwasamostvaguedirection.IrealizeditasIdrovebackandnotedhow

hillafterhillshowedtracesoftheancientpeople.Barrymore'sonlyindicationhadbeenthatthestrangerlivedinoneoftheseabandonedhuts,andmanyhundredsofthemarescatteredthroughoutthelengthandbreadthofthemoor.ButIhadmyownexperience for a guide since it had shownme theman himself standing upon thesummitoftheBlackTor.That,then,shouldbethecentreofmysearch.FromthereIshould explore everyhutupon themooruntil I lightedupon the rightone. If thismanwereinsideitIshouldfindoutfromhisownlips,atthepointofmyrevolverifnecessary,whohewasandwhyhehaddoggedussolong.HemightslipawayfromusinthecrowdofRegentStreet,butitwouldpuzzlehimtodosouponthelonelymoor.Ontheotherhand,ifIshouldfindthehutanditstenantshouldnotbewithinitImustremainthere,howeverlongthevigil,untilhereturned.Holmeshadmissedhim in London. Itwould indeed be a triumph forme if I could run him to earthwheremymasterhadfailed.Luckhadbeenagainstusagainandagaininthisinquiry,butnowatlastitcameto

myaid.AndthemessengerofgoodfortunewasnoneotherthanMr.Frankland,whowasstanding,gray-whiskeredandred-faced,outside thegateofhisgarden,whichopenedontothehighroadalongwhichItravelled."Good-day,Dr.Watson,"criedhewithunwontedgoodhumour,"youmustreally

giveyourhorsesarestandcomeintohaveaglassofwineandtocongratulateme."MyfeelingstowardshimwereveryfarfrombeingfriendlyafterwhatIhadheard

ofhistreatmentofhisdaughter,butIwasanxioustosendPerkinsandthewagonettehome, and the opportunitywas a good one. I alighted and sent amessage to SirHenrythatIshouldwalkoverintimefordinner.ThenIfollowedFranklandintohisdining-room."Itisagreatdayforme,sir—oneofthered-letterdaysofmylife,"hecriedwith

many chuckles. "I havebrought off a double event. Imean to teach them in theseparts that lawis law,andthat thereisamanherewhodoesnotfear toinvokeit.I

have established a right of way through the centre of oldMiddleton's park, slapacross it,sir,withinahundredyardsofhisownfrontdoor.Whatdoyouthinkofthat?We'llteachthesemagnatesthattheycannotrideroughshodovertherightsofthe commoners, confound them!And I've closed thewoodwhere the Fernworthyfolkusedtopicnic.Theseinfernalpeopleseemtothinkthattherearenorightsofproperty,andthattheycanswarmwheretheylikewiththeirpapersandtheirbottles.Both cases decided,Dr.Watson, and both inmy favour. I haven't had such a daysinceIhadSirJohnMorlandfortrespassbecauseheshotinhisownwarren.""Howonearthdidyoudothat?""Lookitupinthebooks,sir.Itwillrepayreading—Franklandv.Morland,Court

ofQueen'sBench.Itcostme200pounds,butIgotmyverdict.""Diditdoyouanygood?""None,sir,none.IamproudtosaythatIhadnointerestinthematter.Iactentirely

from a sense of public duty. I have no doubt, for example, that the Fernworthypeoplewillburnmeineffigytonight.Itoldthepolicelasttimetheydiditthattheyshould stop these disgraceful exhibitions. The County Constabulary is in ascandalousstate,sir,andithasnotaffordedmetheprotectiontowhichIamentitled.The case of Frankland v.Reginawill bring thematter before the attention of thepublic.Itoldthemthattheywouldhaveoccasiontoregrettheirtreatmentofme,andalreadymywordshavecometrue.""Howso?"Iasked.Theoldmanputonaveryknowingexpression."BecauseIcouldtellthemwhat

they are dying to know; but nothingwould induceme to help the rascals in anyway."I hadbeen casting round for some excuse bywhich I couldget away fromhis

gossip,butnowIbegantowishtohearmoreofit.Ihadseenenoughofthecontrarynatureoftheoldsinnertounderstandthatanystrongsignofinterestwouldbethesurestwaytostophisconfidences."Somepoachingcase,nodoubt?"saidIwithanindifferentmanner."Ha,ha,myboy, averymuchmore importantmatter than that!What about the

convictonthemoor?"Istared."Youdon'tmeanthatyouknowwhereheis?"saidI."Imay not know exactlywhere he is, but I am quite sure that I could help the

policeto laytheirhandsonhim.Hasitneverstruckyouthat thewaytocatchthatmanwastofindoutwherehegothisfoodandsotraceittohim?"Hecertainlyseemedtobegettinguncomfortablynearthetruth."Nodoubt,"said

I;"buthowdoyouknowthatheisanywhereuponthemoor?""IknowitbecauseIhaveseenwithmyowneyesthemessengerwhotakeshimhis

food."Myheart sank forBarrymore. Itwas a serious thing tobe in thepowerof this

spitefuloldbusybody.Buthisnextremarktookaweightfrommymind."You'll be surprised to hear that his food is taken to him by a child. I see him

everydaythroughmytelescopeupontheroof.Hepassesalongthesamepathatthesamehour,andtowhomshouldhebegoingexcepttotheconvict?"Herewas luck indeed!Andyet I suppressed all appearanceof interest.A child!

Barrymorehadsaidthatourunknownwassuppliedbyaboy.Itwasonhistrack,andnotupontheconvict's,thatFranklandhadstumbled.IfIcouldgethisknowledgeitmight save me a long and weary hunt. But incredulity and indifference wereevidentlymystrongestcards."I should say that it was much more likely that it was the son of one of the

moorlandshepherdstakingouthisfather'sdinner."The least appearanceofopposition struck fireoutof theold autocrat.His eyes

lookedmalignantlyatme,andhisgraywhiskersbristledlikethoseofanangrycat."Indeed, sir!" saidhe, pointingoutover thewide-stretchingmoor. "Doyou see

thatBlackToroveryonder?Well,doyouseethelowhillbeyondwiththethornbushupon it? It is thestoniestpartof thewholemoor. Is thataplacewhereashepherdwouldbelikelytotakehisstation?Yoursuggestion,sir,isamostabsurdone."ImeeklyansweredthatIhadspokenwithoutknowingallthefacts.Mysubmission

pleasedhimandledhimtofurtherconfidences."Youmaybesure,sir,thatIhaveverygoodgroundsbeforeIcometoanopinion.

Ihaveseentheboyagainandagainwithhisbundle.Everyday,andsometimestwiceaday,Ihavebeenable—butwaitamoment,Dr.Watson.Domyeyesdeceiveme,oristhereatthepresentmomentsomethingmovinguponthathillside?"Itwasseveralmilesoff,butIcoulddistinctlyseeasmalldarkdotagainstthedull

greenandgray."Come, sir, come!" cried Frankland, rushing upstairs. "Youwill see with your

owneyesandjudgeforyourself."The telescope, a formidable instrumentmounted upon a tripod, stood upon the

flatleadsofthehouse.Franklandclappedhiseyetoitandgaveacryofsatisfaction."Quick,Dr.Watson,quick,beforehepassesoverthehill!"Therehewas,sureenough,asmallurchinwithalittlebundleuponhisshoulder,

toilingslowlyupthehill.WhenhereachedthecrestIsawtheraggeduncouthfigureoutlinedforaninstantagainstthecoldbluesky.Helookedroundhimwithafurtiveandstealthyair,asonewhodreadspursuit.Thenhevanishedoverthehill."Well!AmIright?""Certainly,thereisaboywhoseemstohavesomesecreterrand."

"Andwhat theerrand isevenacountyconstablecouldguess.Butnotonewordshall theyhave fromme,andIbindyou tosecrecyalso,Dr.Watson.Notaword!Youunderstand!""Justasyouwish.""They have treated me shamefully—shamefully. When the facts come out in

Franklandv.ReginaIventure to think thata thrillof indignationwill run throughthe country.Nothingwould induceme to help the police in anyway.For all theycareditmighthavebeenme,insteadofmyeffigy,whichtheserascalsburnedatthestake.Surelyyouarenotgoing!Youwillhelpmetoemptythedecanterinhonourofthisgreatoccasion!"But I resisted all his solicitations and succeeded in dissuading him from his

announcedintentionofwalkinghomewithme.Ikepttheroadaslongashiseyewasonme,andthenIstruckoffacrossthemoorandmadeforthestonyhilloverwhichtheboyhaddisappeared.Everythingwasworkinginmyfavour,andIsworethatitshouldnotbethroughlackofenergyorperseverancethatIshouldmissthechancewhichfortunehadthrowninmyway.ThesunwasalreadysinkingwhenIreachedthesummitofthehill,andthelong

slopesbeneathmewereallgolden-greenononesideandgrayshadowontheother.Ahazelaylowuponthefarthestsky-line,outofwhichjuttedthefantasticshapesofBelliver and Vixen Tor. Over the wide expanse there was no sound and nomovement.Onegreatgraybird,agullorcurlew,soaredaloftintheblueheaven.HeandIseemedtobetheonlylivingthingsbetweenthehugearchoftheskyandthedesert beneath it. The barren scene, the sense of loneliness, and themystery andurgencyofmytaskallstruckachillintomyheart.Theboywasnowheretobeseen.Butdownbeneathmeinacleftofthehillstherewasacircleoftheoldstonehuts,and in themiddleof themtherewasonewhichretainedsufficient roof toactasascreenagainsttheweather.MyheartleapedwithinmeasIsawit.Thismustbetheburrowwherethestrangerlurked.Atlastmyfootwasonthethresholdofhishidingplace—hissecretwaswithinmygrasp.As I approached the hut, walking as warily as Stapleton would do when with

poised net he drew near the settled butterfly, I satisfiedmyself that the place hadindeedbeenused as a habitation.Avaguepathway among theboulders led to thedilapidated opening which served as a door. All was silent within. The unknownmight be lurking there, or hemight beprowlingon themoor.Mynerves tingledwiththesenseofadventure.Throwingasidemycigarette,Iclosedmyhanduponthebuttofmyrevolverand,walkingswiftlyuptothedoor,Ilookedin.Theplacewasempty.But there were ample signs that I had not come upon a false scent. This was

certainlywhere themanlived.Someblanketsrolled inawaterproof layuponthat

verystoneslabuponwhichNeolithicmanhadonceslumbered.Theashesofafirewereheapedinarudegrate.Besideitlaysomecookingutensilsandabuckethalf-full of water. A litter of empty tins showed that the place had been occupied forsome time, and I saw, as my eyes became accustomed to the checkered light, apannikinandahalf-fullbottleofspiritsstandinginthecorner.Inthemiddleofthehut a flat stone served the purpose of a table, and upon this stood a small clothbundle—the same, no doubt, which I had seen through the telescope upon theshoulderof theboy. It containeda loafofbread, a tinned tongue, and two tinsofpreservedpeaches.AsIsetitdownagain,afterhavingexaminedit,myheartleapedtoseethatbeneathittherelayasheetofpaperwithwritinguponit.Iraisedit,andthiswaswhatIread,roughlyscrawledinpencil:"Dr.WatsonhasgonetoCoombeTracey."ForaminuteIstoodtherewiththepaperinmyhandsthinkingoutthemeaningof

thiscurtmessage.ItwasI, then,andnotSirHenry,whowasbeingdoggedbythissecret man. He had not followed me himself, but he had set an agent—the boy,perhaps—uponmytrack,andthiswashisreport.PossiblyIhadtakennostepsinceIhadbeenupon themoorwhichhadnotbeenobservedandreported.Always therewasthisfeelingofanunseenforce,afinenetdrawnrounduswithinfiniteskillanddelicacy,holdingus so lightly that itwasonlyat some suprememoment thatonerealizedthatonewasindeedentangledinitsmeshes.Iftherewasonereporttheremightbeothers,soIlookedroundthehutinsearch

ofthem.Therewasnotrace,however,ofanythingofthekind,norcouldIdiscoveranysignwhichmight indicate thecharacteror intentionsof themanwho lived inthis singular place, save that hemust be of Spartan habits and cared little for thecomfortsoflife.WhenIthoughtoftheheavyrainsandlookedatthegapingroofIunderstoodhowstrongandimmutablemustbethepurposewhichhadkepthiminthat inhospitable abode. Was he our malignant enemy, or was he by chance ourguardianangel?IsworethatIwouldnotleavethehutuntilIknew.Outsidethesunwassinkinglowandthewestwasblazingwithscarletandgold.

ItsreflectionwasshotbackinruddypatchesbythedistantpoolswhichlayamidthegreatGrimpenMire. Therewere the two towers ofBaskervilleHall, and there adistant blur of smoke which marked the village of Grimpen. Between the two,behind the hill, was the house of the Stapletons. All was sweet and mellow andpeaceful in the golden evening light, and yet as I looked at themmy soul sharednone of the peace of Nature but quivered at the vagueness and the terror of thatinterviewwhicheveryinstantwasbringingnearer.Withtinglingnervesbutafixedpurpose,Isatinthedarkrecessofthehutandwaitedwithsombrepatienceforthecomingofitstenant.And then at last I heard him. Far away came the sharp clink of a boot striking

uponastone.Thenanotherandyetanother,comingnearerandnearer.Ishrankback

into the darkest corner and cocked the pistol in my pocket, determined not todiscover myself until I had an opportunity of seeing something of the stranger.There was a long pause which showed that he had stopped. Then oncemore thefootstepsapproachedandashadowfellacrosstheopeningofthehut."Itisalovelyevening,mydearWatson,"saidawell-knownvoice."Ireallythink

thatyouwillbemorecomfortableoutsidethanin."

Chapter12.DeathontheMoorForamomentor two I satbreathless,hardlyable tobelievemyears.Thenmy

senses andmy voice came back tome,while a crushingweight of responsibilityseemed inan instant tobe lifted frommysoul.Thatcold, incisive, ironicalvoicecouldbelongtobutonemaninalltheworld."Holmes!"Icried—"Holmes!""Comeout,"saidhe,"andpleasebecarefulwiththerevolver."Istoopedundertherudelintel,andtherehesatuponastoneoutside,hisgrayeyes

dancingwithamusementastheyfelluponmyastonishedfeatures.Hewasthinandworn,but clear andalert, hiskeen facebronzedby the sunand roughenedby thewind.Inhistweedsuitandclothcaphelookedlikeanyothertouristuponthemoor,andhehadcontrived,withthatcatlikeloveofpersonalcleanlinesswhichwasoneofhischaracteristics,thathischinshouldbeassmoothandhislinenasperfectasifhewereinBakerStreet."Ineverwasmoreglad toseeanyone inmylife,"said Ias Iwrunghimby the

hand."Ormoreastonished,eh?""Well,Imustconfesstoit.""The surprisewasnot all onone side, I assureyou. I hadno idea that youhad

found my occasional retreat, still less that you were inside it, until I was withintwentypacesofthedoor.""Myfootprint,Ipresume?""No,Watson,IfearthatIcouldnotundertaketorecognizeyourfootprintamidall

thefootprintsoftheworld.Ifyouseriouslydesiretodeceivemeyoumustchangeyour tobacconist; for when I see the stub of a cigarettemarked Bradley, OxfordStreet,IknowthatmyfriendWatsonisintheneighbourhood.Youwillseeittherebeside the path.You threw it down, no doubt, at that suprememomentwhen youchargedintotheemptyhut.""Exactly.""I thoughtasmuch—andknowingyouradmirable tenacity Iwasconvinced that

youweresittinginambush,aweaponwithinreach,waitingforthetenanttoreturn.

SoyouactuallythoughtthatIwasthecriminal?""Ididnotknowwhoyouwere,butIwasdeterminedtofindout.""Excellent,Watson!Andhowdidyoulocalizeme?Yousawme,perhaps,onthe

night of the convict hunt,when Iwas so imprudent as to allow themoon to risebehindme?""Yes,Isawyouthen.""Andhavenodoubtsearchedallthehutsuntilyoucametothisone?""No,yourboyhadbeenobserved,andthatgavemeaguidewheretolook.""The old gentlemanwith the telescope, no doubt. I could notmake it outwhen

firstIsawthelightflashinguponthelens."Heroseandpeepedintothehut."Ha,Isee thatCartwrighthasbroughtupsomesupplies.What's thispaper?SoyouhavebeentoCoombeTracey,haveyou?""Yes.""ToseeMrs.LauraLyons?""Exactly.""Well done!Our researches have evidently been running on parallel lines, and

whenweuniteourresultsIexpectweshallhaveafairlyfullknowledgeofthecase.""Well, I amglad frommyheart thatyouarehere, for indeed the responsibility

andthemysterywerebothbecomingtoomuchformynerves.Buthowinthenameofwonderdidyoucomehere, andwhathaveyoubeendoing? I thought thatyouwereinBakerStreetworkingoutthatcaseofblackmailing.""ThatwaswhatIwishedyoutothink.""Thenyouuseme,andyetdonottrustme!"Icriedwithsomebitterness."Ithink

thatIhavedeservedbetteratyourhands,Holmes.""Mydearfellow,youhavebeeninvaluabletomeinthisasinmanyothercases,

andIbegthatyouwillforgivemeifIhaveseemedtoplayatrickuponyou.Intruth,itwaspartlyforyourownsakethatIdidit,anditwasmyappreciationofthedangerwhichyouranwhichledmetocomedownandexaminethematterformyself.HadIbeenwithSirHenryandyouitisconfidentthatmypointofviewwouldhavebeenthe same as yours, and my presence would have warned our very formidableopponentstobeontheirguard.Asitis,IhavebeenabletogetaboutasIcouldnotpossiblyhavedonehadIbeenlivingintheHall,andIremainanunknownfactorinthebusiness,readytothrowinallmyweightatacriticalmoment.""Butwhykeepmeinthedark?""Foryou toknowcouldnothavehelpedusandmightpossiblyhave led tomy

discovery.Youwouldhavewished to tellme something,or inyourkindnessyouwould have brought me out some comfort or other, and so an unnecessary riskwouldberun.IbroughtCartwrightdownwithme—yourememberthelittlechapat

the expressoffice—andhehas seen aftermy simplewants: a loaf of bread and acleancollar.Whatdoesmanwantmore?Hehasgivenmeanextrapairofeyesuponaveryactivepairoffeet,andbothhavebeeninvaluable.""Thenmy reports have all beenwasted!"—Myvoice trembled as I recalled the

painsandthepridewithwhichIhadcomposedthem.Holmestookabundleofpapersfromhispocket."Hereareyour reports,mydear fellow,andverywell thumbed, I assureyou. I

madeexcellentarrangements,andtheyareonlydelayedonedayupontheirway.Imustcomplimentyouexceedinglyuponthezealandtheintelligencewhichyouhaveshownoveranextraordinarilydifficultcase."Iwasstill ratherrawover thedeceptionwhichhadbeenpractiseduponme,but

thewarmth ofHolmes's praise drovemy anger frommymind. I felt also inmyheartthathewasrightinwhathesaidandthatitwasreallybestforourpurposethatIshouldnothaveknownthathewasuponthemoor."That'sbetter,"saidhe,seeingtheshadowrisefrommyface."Andnowtellme

theresultofyourvisittoMrs.LauraLyons—itwasnotdifficultformetoguessthatitwastoseeherthatyouhadgone,forIamalreadyawarethatsheistheonepersoninCoombeTraceywhomightbeofservicetousinthematter.Infact,ifyouhadnotgonetodayitisexceedinglyprobablethatIshouldhavegonetomorrow."Thesunhadsetandduskwassettlingoverthemoor.Theairhadturnedchilland

wewithdrew into thehut forwarmth.There, sitting together in the twilight, I toldHolmesofmyconversationwiththelady.SointerestedwashethatIhadtorepeatsomeofittwicebeforehewassatisfied."Thisismostimportant,"saidhewhenIhadconcluded."ItfillsupagapwhichI

hadbeenunabletobridgeinthismostcomplexaffair.Youareaware,perhaps,thatacloseintimacyexistsbetweenthisladyandthemanStapleton?""Ididnotknowofacloseintimacy.""There can be no doubt about the matter. They meet, they write, there is a

completeunderstandingbetweenthem.Now,thisputsaverypowerfulweaponintoourhands.IfIcouldonlyuseittodetachhiswife—""Hiswife?""Iamgivingyousomeinformationnow,inreturnforallthatyouhavegivenme.

TheladywhohaspassedhereasMissStapletonisinrealityhiswife.""Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? How could he have

permittedSirHenrytofallinlovewithher?""SirHenry's falling in love could do no harm to anyone except SirHenry.He

tookparticularcarethatSirHenrydidnotmakelovetoher,asyouhaveyourselfobserved.Irepeatthattheladyishiswifeandnothissister."

"Butwhythiselaboratedeception?""Because he foresaw that she would be very much more useful to him in the

characterofafreewoman."Allmyunspokeninstincts,myvaguesuspicions,suddenlytookshapeandcentred

upon the naturalist. In that impassive colourless man, with his straw hat and hisbutterfly-net,Iseemedtoseesomethingterrible—acreatureofinfinitepatienceandcraft,withasmilingfaceandamurderousheart."Itishe,then,whoisourenemy—itishewhodoggedusinLondon?""SoIreadtheriddle.""Andthewarning—itmusthavecomefromher!""Exactly."Theshapeofsomemonstrousvillainy,halfseen,halfguessed, loomedthrough

thedarknesswhichhadgirtmesolong."But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that the woman is his

wife?""Because he so far forgot himself as to tell you a true piece of autobiography

upon the occasion when he first met you, and I dare say he has many a timeregretteditsince.HewasonceaschoolmasterinthenorthofEngland.Now,thereisno onemore easy to trace than a schoolmaster. There are scholastic agencies bywhich one may identify any man who has been in the profession. A littleinvestigation showed me that a school had come to grief under atrociouscircumstances, and that themanwho had owned it—the namewas different—haddisappearedwithhiswife.Thedescriptionsagreed.WhenIlearnedthatthemissingmanwasdevotedtoentomologytheidentificationwascomplete."Thedarknesswasrising,butmuchwasstillhiddenbytheshadows."If this woman is in truth his wife, where doesMrs. Laura Lyons come in?" I

asked."That is one of the points uponwhich your own researches have shed a light.

Your interviewwith the lady has cleared the situation verymuch. I did not knowaboutaprojecteddivorcebetweenherselfandherhusband.Inthatcase,regardingStapletonasanunmarriedman,shecountednodoubtuponbecominghiswife.""Andwhensheisundeceived?""Why,thenwemayfindtheladyofservice.Itmustbeourfirstdutytoseeher—

both of us—tomorrow. Don't you think, Watson, that you are away from yourchargeratherlong?YourplaceshouldbeatBaskervilleHall."The last red streaks had faded away in thewest and night had settled upon the

moor.Afewfaintstarsweregleaminginavioletsky."Onelastquestion,Holmes,"IsaidasIrose."Surelythereisnoneedofsecrecy

betweenyouandme.Whatisthemeaningofitall?Whatisheafter?"Holmes'svoicesankasheanswered:"Itismurder,Watson—refined,cold-blooded,deliberatemurder.Donotaskme

forparticulars.Mynetsareclosinguponhim,evenashisareuponSirHenry,andwithyourhelpheisalreadyalmostatmymercy.Thereisbutonedangerwhichcanthreatenus.Itisthatheshouldstrikebeforewearereadytodoso.Anotherday—twoatthemost—andIhavemycasecomplete,butuntilthenguardyourchargeasclosely as ever a fond mother watched her ailing child. Your mission today hasjustifieditself,andyetIcouldalmostwishthatyouhadnotlefthisside.Hark!"A terrible scream—a prolonged yell of horror and anguish—burst out of the

silenceofthemoor.Thatfrightfulcryturnedthebloodtoiceinmyveins."Oh,myGod!"Igasped."Whatisit?Whatdoesitmean?"Holmeshadsprungtohisfeet,andIsawhisdark,athleticoutlineatthedoorof

the hut, his shoulders stooping, his head thrust forward, his face peering into thedarkness."Hush!"hewhispered."Hush!"Thecryhadbeen loudonaccountof itsvehemence,but ithadpealedout from

somewherefaroffontheshadowyplain.Nowitburstuponourears,nearer,louder,moreurgentthanbefore."Whereisit?"Holmeswhispered;andIknewfromthethrillofhisvoicethathe,

themanofiron,wasshakentothesoul."Whereisit,Watson?""There,Ithink."Ipointedintothedarkness."No,there!"Again the agonized cry swept through the silent night, louder andmuchnearer

thanever.Andanewsoundmingledwithit,adeep,mutteredrumble,musicalandyetmenacing,risingandfallinglikethelow,constantmurmurofthesea."Thehound!"criedHolmes."Come,Watson,come!Greatheavens,ifwearetoo

late!"Hehadstartedrunningswiftlyoverthemoor,andIhadfollowedathisheels.But

nowfromsomewhereamong thebrokenground immediately in frontofus therecameone lastdespairingyell, and thenadull,heavy thud.Wehaltedand listened.Notanothersoundbroketheheavysilenceofthewindlessnight.IsawHolmesputhishandtohisforeheadlikeamandistracted.Hestampedhis

feetupontheground."Hehasbeatenus,Watson.Wearetoolate.""No,no,surelynot!""Fool that I was to hold my hand. And you, Watson, see what comes of

abandoning your charge!But, byHeaven, if theworst has happenedwe'll avenge

him!"Blindlyweranthroughthegloom,blunderingagainstboulders,forcingourway

throughgorsebushes,pantinguphillsandrushingdownslopes,headingalwaysinthedirectionwhencethosedreadfulsoundshadcome.AteveryriseHolmeslookedeagerlyroundhim,buttheshadowswerethickuponthemoor,andnothingmoveduponitsdrearyface."Canyouseeanything?""Nothing.""But,hark,whatisthat?"Alowmoanhadfallenuponourears.Thereitwasagainuponourleft!Onthat

sidearidgeofrocksendedinasheercliffwhichoverlookedastone-strewnslope.On its jagged face was spread-eagled some dark, irregular object. As we rantowards it thevagueoutlinehardened intoadefiniteshape. Itwasaprostratemanfacedownwardupontheground,theheaddoubledunderhimatahorribleangle,theshoulders rounded and the body hunched together as if in the act of throwing asomersault.SogrotesquewastheattitudethatIcouldnotfortheinstantrealizethatthatmoanhadbeen thepassingofhis soul.Not awhisper, not a rustle, rosenowfrom thedark figureoverwhichwestooped.Holmes laidhishanduponhimandheld itupagainwithanexclamationofhorror.Thegleamof thematchwhichhestruck shone upon his clotted fingers and upon the ghastly pool which widenedslowly from the crushed skull of the victim. And it shone upon something elsewhichturnedourheartssickandfaintwithinus—thebodyofSirHenryBaskerville!Therewasnochanceofeitherofusforgettingthatpeculiarruddytweedsuit—the

veryonewhichhehadwornon the firstmorning thatwehad seenhim inBakerStreet.Wecaughttheoneclearglimpseofit,andthenthematchflickeredandwentout, even as the hope had gone out of our souls. Holmes groaned, and his faceglimmeredwhitethroughthedarkness."Thebrute!Thebrute!" I criedwith clenchedhands. "OhHolmes, I shall never

forgivemyselfforhavinglefthimtohisfate.""Iammoretoblamethanyou,Watson.Inordertohavemycasewellroundedand

complete,Ihavethrownawaythelifeofmyclient.Itisthegreatestblowwhichhasbefallenmeinmycareer.ButhowcouldIknow—howcouldIknow—thathewouldriskhislifealoneuponthemoorinthefaceofallmywarnings?""Thatweshouldhaveheardhisscreams—myGod,thosescreams!—andyethave

been unable to save him!Where is this brute of a houndwhich drove him to hisdeath?Itmaybelurkingamongtheserocksatthisinstant.AndStapleton,whereishe?Heshallanswerforthisdeed.""He shall. I will see to that. Uncle and nephew have been murdered—the one

frightenedtodeathbytheverysightofabeastwhichhethoughttobesupernatural,

theotherdriventohisendinhiswildflighttoescapefromit.Butnowwehavetoprovetheconnectionbetweenthemanandthebeast.Savefromwhatweheard,wecannotevensweartotheexistenceofthelatter,sinceSirHenryhasevidentlydiedfrom the fall.But, by heavens, cunning as he is, the fellow shall be inmypowerbeforeanotherdayispast!"Westoodwithbitterheartsoneithersideofthemangledbody,overwhelmedby

this sudden and irrevocable disaster which had brought all our long and wearylabours tosopiteousanend.Thenas themoonroseweclimbed to the topof therocks overwhichour poor friendhad fallen, and from the summitwegazedoutover the shadowy moor, half silver and half gloom. Far away, miles off, in thedirectionofGrimpen,asinglesteadyyellowlightwasshining.ItcouldonlycomefromthelonelyabodeoftheStapletons.WithabittercurseIshookmyfistatitasIgazed."Whyshouldwenotseizehimatonce?""Ourcaseisnotcomplete.Thefellowiswaryandcunningtothelastdegree.Itis

notwhatweknow,butwhatwecanprove. Ifwemakeone falsemove thevillainmayescapeusyet.""Whatcanwedo?""Therewillbeplenty forus todo tomorrow.Tonightwecanonlyperform the

lastofficestoourpoorfriend."Togetherwemadeourwaydowntheprecipitousslopeandapproachedthebody,

black and clear against the silvered stones. The agony of those contorted limbsstruckmewithaspasmofpainandblurredmyeyeswithtears."Wemust send for help,Holmes!We cannot carry himall theway to theHall.

Goodheavens,areyoumad?"Hehadutteredacryandbentover thebody.Nowhewasdancingandlaughing

andwringingmyhand.Could thisbemystern, self-contained friend?Thesewerehiddenfires,indeed!"Abeard!Abeard!Themanhasabeard!""Abeard?""Itisnotthebaronet—itis—why,itismyneighbour,theconvict!"With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and that dripping beard was

pointing up to the cold, clearmoon. There could be no doubt about the beetlingforehead, the sunken animal eyes. It was indeed the same face which had glaredupon me in the light of the candle from over the rock—the face of Selden, thecriminal.Theninaninstantitwasallcleartome.Irememberedhowthebaronethadtold

methathehadhandedhisoldwardrobetoBarrymore.Barrymorehadpassediton

inordertohelpSeldeninhisescape.Boots,shirt,cap—itwasallSirHenry's.Thetragedywasstillblackenough,butthismanhadatleastdeserveddeathbythelawsof his country. I toldHolmes how thematter stood,my heart bubbling overwiththankfulnessandjoy."Then theclotheshavebeen thepoordevil'sdeath," saidhe. "It isclearenough

that thehoundhasbeen laidonfromsomearticleofSirHenry's—thebootwhichwasabstractedinthehotel, inallprobability—andsoranthismandown.Thereisoneverysingularthing,however:HowcameSelden,inthedarkness,toknowthatthehoundwasonhistrail?""Heheardhim.""Tohearahounduponthemoorwouldnotworkahardmanlikethisconvictinto

such a paroxysm of terror that hewould risk recapture by screamingwildly forhelp.Byhiscrieshemusthaverunalongwayafterheknewtheanimalwasonhistrack.Howdidheknow?""Agreatermystery tome iswhy thishound,presuming thatallourconjectures

arecorrect—""Ipresumenothing.""Well, then,why this hound should be loose tonight. I suppose that it does not

alwaysrunlooseuponthemoor.StapletonwouldnotletitgounlesshehadreasontothinkthatSirHenrywouldbethere.""Mydifficulty is themore formidableof the two, for I think thatwe shallvery

shortlygetanexplanationofyours,whileminemayremainforeveramystery.Thequestionnowis,whatshallwedowiththispoorwretch'sbody?Wecannotleaveitheretothefoxesandtheravens.""I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we can communicatewith the

police.""Exactly. I have no doubt that you and I could carry it so far. Halloa,Watson,

what'sthis?It'sthemanhimself,byallthat'swonderfulandaudacious!Notawordtoshowyoursuspicions—notaword,ormyplanscrumbletotheground."A figurewas approaching us over themoor, and I saw the dull red glow of a

cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I could distinguish the dapper shape andjauntywalkofthenaturalist.Hestoppedwhenhesawus,andthencameonagain."Why,Dr.Watson, that's not you, is it?You are the lastman that I shouldhave

expected to see out on themoor at this time of night. But, dearme, what's this?Somebodyhurt?Not—don'ttellmethatitisourfriendSirHenry!"Hehurriedpastmeandstoopedoverthedeadman.Iheardasharpintakeofhisbreathandthecigarfellfromhisfingers."Who—who'sthis?"hestammered.

"ItisSelden,themanwhoescapedfromPrincetown."Stapletonturnedaghastlyfaceuponus,butbyasupremeefforthehadovercome

his amazement and his disappointment. He looked sharply from Holmes to me."Dearme!Whataveryshockingaffair!Howdidhedie?""Heappearstohavebrokenhisneckbyfallingovertheserocks.MyfriendandI

werestrollingonthemoorwhenweheardacry.""Iheardacryalso.Thatwaswhatbroughtmeout.IwasuneasyaboutSirHenry.""WhyaboutSirHenryinparticular?"Icouldnothelpasking."BecauseIhadsuggestedthatheshouldcomeover.WhenhedidnotcomeIwas

surprised,andInaturallybecamealarmedforhissafetywhenIheardcriesuponthemoor. By the way"—his eyes darted again frommy face to Holmes's—"did youhearanythingelsebesidesacry?""No,"saidHolmes;"didyou?""No.""Whatdoyoumean,then?""Oh,youknowthestoriesthatthepeasantstellaboutaphantomhound,andsoon.

It is said to be heard at night upon themoor. Iwaswondering if therewere anyevidenceofsuchasoundtonight.""Weheardnothingofthekind,"saidI."Andwhatisyourtheoryofthispoorfellow'sdeath?""Ihavenodoubtthatanxietyandexposurehavedrivenhimoffhishead.Hehas

rushedabout themoorinacrazystateandeventuallyfallenoverhereandbrokenhisneck.""Thatseemsthemostreasonabletheory,"saidStapleton,andhegaveasighwhich

Itooktoindicatehisrelief."Whatdoyouthinkaboutit,Mr.SherlockHolmes?"Myfriendbowedhiscompliments."Youarequickatidentification,"saidhe."WehavebeenexpectingyouinthesepartssinceDr.Watsoncamedown.Youare

intimetoseeatragedy.""Yes, indeed. Ihavenodoubt thatmyfriend'sexplanationwillcover thefacts. I

willtakeanunpleasantremembrancebacktoLondonwithmetomorrow.""Oh,youreturntomorrow?""Thatismyintention.""Ihopeyourvisithascastsomelightuponthoseoccurrenceswhichhavepuzzled

us?"Holmesshruggedhisshoulders."Onecannotalwayshavethesuccessforwhichonehopes.Aninvestigatorneeds

factsandnotlegendsorrumours.Ithasnotbeenasatisfactorycase."

My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner. Stapleton stilllookedhardathim.Thenheturnedtome."Iwould suggest carrying this poor fellow tomy house, but itwould givemy

sister such a fright that I do not feel justified in doing it. I think that if we putsomethingoverhisfacehewillbesafeuntilmorning."Andso itwasarranged.ResistingStapleton'sofferofhospitality,Holmesand I

setofftoBaskervilleHall, leavingthenaturalist toreturnalone.Lookingbackwesawthefiguremovingslowlyawayoverthebroadmoor,andbehindhimthatoneblacksmudgeonthesilveredslopewhichshowedwherethemanwaslyingwhohadcomesohorriblytohisend.

Chapter13.FixingtheNets"We'reatclosegripsatlast,"saidHolmesaswewalkedtogetheracrossthemoor.

"Whatanerve the fellowhas!Howhepulledhimself together in the faceofwhatmusthavebeenaparalyzingshockwhenhefoundthatthewrongmanhadfallenavictimtohisplot.I toldyouinLondon,Watson,andI tellyounowagain, thatwehaveneverhadafoemanmoreworthyofoursteel.""Iamsorrythathehasseenyou.""AndsowasIatfirst.Buttherewasnogettingoutofit.""Whateffectdoyouthinkitwillhaveuponhisplansnowthatheknowsyouare

here?""Itmaycausehimtobemorecautious,oritmaydrivehimtodesperatemeasures

atonce.Likemostclevercriminals,hemaybetooconfidentinhisownclevernessandimaginethathehascompletelydeceivedus.""Whyshouldwenotarresthimatonce?""MydearWatson,youwereborntobeamanofaction.Yourinstinctisalwaysto

do something energetic. But supposing, for argument's sake, that we had himarrestedtonight,whatonearththebetteroffshouldwebeforthat?Wecouldprovenothingagainsthim.There'sthedevilishcunningofit!Ifhewereactingthroughahumanagentwecouldgetsomeevidence,butifweweretodragthisgreatdogtothelightofdayitwouldnothelpusinputtingaroperoundtheneckofitsmaster.""Surelywehaveacase.""Notashadowofone—onlysurmiseandconjecture.Weshouldbelaughedoutof

courtifwecamewithsuchastoryandsuchevidence.""ThereisSirCharles'sdeath.""Found dead without a mark upon him. You and I know that he died of sheer

fright,andweknowalsowhatfrightenedhim,buthowarewetogettwelvestolidjurymentoknowit?Whatsignsarethereofahound?Wherearethemarksof itsfangs? Of course we know that a hound does not bite a dead body and that SirCharleswasdeadbeforeeverthebruteovertookhim.Butwehavetoproveallthis,andwearenotinapositiontodoit.""Well,then,tonight?""We are not much better off tonight. Again, there was no direct connection

betweenthehoundandtheman'sdeath.Weneversawthehound.Weheardit,butwecould not prove that it was running upon this man's trail. There is a complete

absenceofmotive.No,mydearfellow;wemustreconcileourselvestothefactthatwehavenocaseatpresent,andthatitisworthourwhiletorunanyriskinordertoestablishone.""Andhowdoyouproposetodoso?""IhavegreathopesofwhatMrs.LauraLyonsmaydoforuswhenthepositionof

affairs is made clear to her. And I have my own plan as well. Sufficient fortomorrowistheevilthereof;butIhopebeforethedayispasttohavetheupperhandatlast."Icoulddrawnothingfurtherfromhim,andhewalked,lostinthought,asfaras

theBaskervillegates."Areyoucomingup?""Yes; I see no reason for further concealment. But one lastword,Watson. Say

nothingofthehoundtoSirHenry.LethimthinkthatSelden'sdeathwasasStapletonwouldhaveusbelieve.Hewillhaveabetternervefortheordealwhichhewillhavetoundergotomorrow,whenheisengaged,ifIrememberyourreportaright,todinewiththesepeople.""AndsoamI.""Then you must excuse yourself and he must go alone. That will be easily

arranged.Andnow,ifwearetoolatefordinner,Ithinkthatwearebothreadyforoursuppers."SirHenrywasmorepleased thansurprised toseeSherlockHolmes, forhehad

for some days been expecting that recent events would bring him down fromLondon. He did raise his eyebrows, however, when he found that my friend hadneither any luggage nor any explanations for its absence. Between us we soonsuppliedhiswants, and thenover abelated supperwe explained to thebaronet asmuchofourexperienceasitseemeddesirablethatheshouldknow.ButfirstIhadtheunpleasantdutyofbreakingthenewstoBarrymoreandhiswife.Tohimitmayhavebeenanunmitigatedrelief,butsheweptbitterlyinherapron.Toalltheworldhe was the man of violence, half animal and half demon; but to her he alwaysremainedthelittlewilfulboyofherowngirlhood,thechildwhohadclungtoherhand.Evilindeedisthemanwhohasnotonewomantomournhim."I've beenmoping in thehouse all day sinceWatsonwent off in themorning,"

saidthebaronet."IguessIshouldhavesomecredit,forIhavekeptmypromise.IfIhadn'tswornnottogoaboutaloneImighthavehadamorelivelyevening,forIhadamessagefromStapletonaskingmeoverthere.""Ihavenodoubt thatyouwouldhavehadamore livelyevening," saidHolmes

drily."Bytheway,Idon'tsupposeyouappreciatethatwehavebeenmourningoveryouashavingbrokenyourneck?"SirHenryopenedhiseyes."Howwasthat?"

"Thispoorwretchwasdressedinyourclothes.Ifearyourservantwhogavethemtohimmaygetintotroublewiththepolice.""Thatisunlikely.Therewasnomarkonanyofthem,asfarasIknow.""That'sluckyforhim—infact, it's luckyforallofyou,sinceyouareallonthe

wrongsideofthelawinthismatter.Iamnotsurethatasaconscientiousdetectivemy first duty is not to arrest the whole household. Watson's reports are mostincriminatingdocuments.""Buthowaboutthecase?"askedthebaronet."Haveyoumadeanythingoutofthe

tangle?Idon'tknowthatWatsonandIaremuchthewisersincewecamedown.""IthinkthatIshallbeinapositiontomakethesituationrathermorecleartoyou

before long. It has been an exceedingly difficult and most complicated business.There are several points uponwhichwe stillwant light—but it is coming all thesame.""We'vehadoneexperience,asWatsonhasnodoubttoldyou.Weheardthehound

onthemoor,soIcanswearthatitisnotallemptysuperstition.Ihadsomethingtodowith dogswhen Iwas outWest, and I know onewhen I hear one. If you canmuzzle thatoneandputhimonachainI'llbeready toswearyouare thegreatestdetectiveofalltime.""IthinkIwillmuzzlehimandchainhimallrightifyouwillgivemeyourhelp.""WhateveryoutellmetodoIwilldo.""Verygood; and Iwill askyou also todo it blindly,without always asking the

reason.""Justasyoulike.""If youwill do this I think the chances are that our little problemwill soonbe

solved.Ihavenodoubt—"Hestoppedsuddenlyandstared fixedlyupovermyhead into theair.The lamp

beatuponhisface,andsointentwasitandsostillthatitmighthavebeenthatofaclear-cutclassicalstatue,apersonificationofalertnessandexpectation."Whatisit?"webothcried.Icouldseeashelookeddownthathewasrepressingsomeinternalemotion.His

featureswerestillcomposed,buthiseyesshonewithamusedexultation."Excusetheadmirationofaconnoisseur,"saidheashewavedhishandtowards

the line of portraits which covered the opposite wall. "Watson won't allow that Iknowanythingofartbut that ismerejealousybecauseourviewsuponthesubjectdiffer.Now,theseareareallyveryfineseriesofportraits.""Well,I'mgladtohearyousayso,"saidSirHenry,glancingwithsomesurprise

atmyfriend."Idon'tpretend toknowmuchabout these things,andI'dbeabetterjudgeofahorseorasteerthanofapicture.Ididn'tknowthatyoufoundtimefor

suchthings.""IknowwhatisgoodwhenIseeit,andIseeitnow.That'saKneller,I'llswear,

thatladyinthebluesilkoveryonder,andthestoutgentlemanwiththewigoughttobeaReynolds.Theyareallfamilyportraits,Ipresume?""Everyone.""Doyouknowthenames?""Barrymorehasbeencoachingmeinthem,andIthinkIcansaymylessonsfairly

well.""Whoisthegentlemanwiththetelescope?""ThatisRear-AdmiralBaskerville,whoservedunderRodneyintheWestIndies.

Themanwith thebluecoat and the rollofpaper isSirWilliamBaskerville,whowasChairmanofCommitteesoftheHouseofCommonsunderPitt.""AndthisCavalieroppositetome—theonewiththeblackvelvetandthelace?""Ah,youhavearighttoknowabouthim.Thatisthecauseofallthemischief,the

wickedHugo,whostartedtheHoundoftheBaskervilles.We'renotlikelytoforgethim."Igazedwithinterestandsomesurpriseupontheportrait."Dearme!" saidHolmes, "he seemsaquiet,meek-manneredmanenough,but I

dare say that therewas a lurking devil in his eyes. I had pictured him as amorerobustandruffianlyperson.""There'snodoubtabouttheauthenticity,forthenameandthedate,1647,areon

thebackofthecanvas."Holmes said littlemore, but the picture of the old roysterer seemed to have a

fascination for him, and his eyeswere continually fixed upon it during supper. Itwasnotuntillater,whenSirHenryhadgonetohisroom,thatIwasabletofollowthe trend of his thoughts. He led me back into the banqueting-hall, his bedroomcandleinhishand,andhehelditupagainstthetime-stainedportraitonthewall."Doyouseeanythingthere?"Ilookedatthebroadplumedhat,thecurlinglove-locks,thewhitelacecollar,and

the straight, severe face which was framed between them. It was not a brutalcountenance,butitwasprim,hard,andstern,withafirm-set,thin-lippedmouth,andacoldlyintoleranteye."Isitlikeanyoneyouknow?""ThereissomethingofSirHenryaboutthejaw.""Just a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an instant!" He stood upon a chair, and,

holdingupthelightinhislefthand,hecurvedhisrightarmoverthebroadhatandroundthelongringlets.

"Goodheavens!"Icriedinamazement.ThefaceofStapletonhadsprungoutofthecanvas."Ha, you see it now.My eyes have been trained to examine faces and not their

trimmings.Itisthefirstqualityofacriminalinvestigatorthatheshouldseethroughadisguise.""Butthisismarvellous.Itmightbehisportrait.""Yes, it is an interesting instance of a throwback, which appears to be both

physicalandspiritual.Astudyoffamilyportraitsisenoughtoconvertamantothedoctrineofreincarnation.ThefellowisaBaskerville—thatisevident.""Withdesignsuponthesuccession.""Exactly.Thischanceofthepicturehassupplieduswithoneofourmostobvious

missing links.We have him,Watson, we have him, and I dare swear that beforetomorrow night he will be fluttering in our net as helpless as one of his ownbutterflies.Apin,acork,andacard,andweaddhimtotheBakerStreetcollection!"Heburst intooneofhisrarefitsof laughterasheturnedawayfromthepicture.Ihavenotheardhimlaughoften,andithasalwaysbodedilltosomebody.Iwasupbetimesinthemorning,butHolmeswasafootearlierstill,forIsawhim

asIdressed,comingupthedrive."Yes,weshouldhaveafulldaytoday,"heremarked,andherubbedhishandswith

the joyof action. "Thenets are all in place, and the drag is about to begin.We'llknow before the day is out whether we have caught our big, leanjawed pike, orwhetherhehasgotthroughthemeshes.""Haveyoubeenonthemooralready?""I have sent a report fromGrimpen to Princetown as to the death of Selden. I

thinkIcanpromisethatnoneofyouwillbetroubledinthematter.AndIhavealsocommunicatedwithmyfaithfulCartwright,whowouldcertainlyhavepinedawayatthedoorofmyhut,asadogdoesathismaster'sgrave,ifIhadnotsethismindatrestaboutmysafety.""Whatisthenextmove?""ToseeSirHenry.Ah,hereheis!""Good-morning, Holmes," said the baronet. "You look like a general who is

planningabattlewithhischiefofthestaff.""Thatistheexactsituation.Watsonwasaskingfororders.""AndsodoI.""Very good. You are engaged, as I understand, to dine with our friends the

Stapletonstonight.""Ihopethatyouwillcomealso.Theyareveryhospitablepeople,andIamsure

thattheywouldbeverygladtoseeyou."

"IfearthatWatsonandImustgotoLondon.""ToLondon?""Yes,Ithinkthatweshouldbemoreusefulthereatthepresentjuncture."Thebaronet'sfaceperceptiblylengthened."Ihoped thatyouweregoing toseeme through thisbusiness.TheHalland the

moorarenotverypleasantplaceswhenoneisalone.""Mydearfellow,youmusttrustmeimplicitlyanddoexactlywhatItellyou.You

cantellyourfriendsthatweshouldhavebeenhappytohavecomewithyou,butthaturgent business required us to be in town. We hope very soon to return toDevonshire.Willyouremembertogivethemthatmessage?""Ifyouinsistuponit.""Thereisnoalternative,Iassureyou."Isawbythebaronet'scloudedbrowthathewasdeeplyhurtbywhatheregarded

asourdesertion."Whendoyoudesiretogo?"heaskedcoldly."Immediatelyafterbreakfast.WewilldriveintoCoombeTracey,butWatsonwill

leavehisthingsasapledgethathewillcomebacktoyou.Watson,youwillsendanotetoStapletontotellhimthatyouregretthatyoucannotcome.""IhaveagoodmindtogotoLondonwithyou,"saidthebaronet."WhyshouldI

stayherealone?""Becauseitisyourpostofduty.Becauseyougavemeyourwordthatyouwould

doasyouweretold,andItellyoutostay.""Allright,then,I'llstay.""Onemoredirection!IwishyoutodrivetoMerripitHouse.Sendbackyourtrap,

however,andletthemknowthatyouintendtowalkhome.""Towalkacrossthemoor?""Yes.""Butthatistheverythingwhichyouhavesooftencautionedmenottodo.""Thistimeyoumaydoitwithsafety.IfIhadnoteveryconfidenceinyournerve

andcourageIwouldnotsuggestit,butitisessentialthatyoushoulddoit.""ThenIwilldoit.""And as you value your life do not go across themoor in any direction save

alongthestraightpathwhichleadsfromMerripitHousetotheGrimpenRoad,andisyournaturalwayhome.""Iwilldojustwhatyousay.""Verygood.Ishouldbegladtogetawayassoonafterbreakfastaspossible,soas

toreachLondonintheafternoon."Iwasmuchastoundedbythisprogramme,thoughIrememberedthatHolmeshad

said toStapletonon thenightbefore thathisvisitwould terminatenextday. Ithadnotcrossedmymindhowever,thathewouldwishmetogowithhim,norcouldIunderstandhowwecouldbothbeabsentatamomentwhichhehimselfdeclaredtobecritical.Therewasnothing for it,however,but implicitobedience; sowebadegood-bye to our rueful friend, and a couple of hours afterwards we were at thestation ofCoombeTracey and had dispatched the trap upon its return journey.Asmallboywaswaitingupontheplatform."Anyorders,sir?""Youwill take this train to town,Cartwright. Themoment you arrive youwill

send a wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, in my name, to say that if he finds thepocketbookwhichIhavedroppedheistosenditbyregisteredposttoBakerStreet.""Yes,sir.""Andaskatthestationofficeifthereisamessageforme."Theboyreturnedwithatelegram,whichHolmeshandedtome.Itran:Wirereceived.Comingdownwithunsignedwarrant.Arrivefive-forty.Lestrade."Thatisinanswertomineofthismorning.Heisthebestoftheprofessionals,I

think,andwemayneedhisassistance.Now,Watson,Ithinkthatwecannotemployourtimebetterthanbycallinguponyouracquaintance,Mrs.LauraLyons."Hisplanofcampaignwasbeginningtobeevident.Hewoulduse thebaronet in

ordertoconvincetheStapletonsthatwewerereallygone,whileweshouldactuallyreturnattheinstantwhenwewerelikelytobeneeded.ThattelegramfromLondon,ifmentionedbySirHenrytotheStapletons,mustremovethelastsuspicionsfromtheirminds.AlreadyIseemedtoseeournetsdrawingcloseraroundthatleanjawedpike.Mrs.LauraLyonswasinheroffice,andSherlockHolmesopenedhis interview

withafranknessanddirectnesswhichconsiderablyamazedher."I am investigating the circumstances which attended the death of the late Sir

CharlesBaskerville,"saidhe."Myfriendhere,Dr.Watson,hasinformedmeofwhatyouhavecommunicated,andalsoofwhatyouhavewithheldinconnectionwiththatmatter.""WhathaveIwithheld?"sheaskeddefiantly."YouhaveconfessedthatyouaskedSirCharlestobeatthegateatteno'clock.We

know that that was the place and hour of his death. You have withheld what theconnectionisbetweentheseevents.""Thereisnoconnection.""Inthatcasethecoincidencemustindeedbeanextraordinaryone.ButIthinkthat

weshallsucceedinestablishingaconnection,afterall.Iwishtobeperfectlyfrankwithyou,Mrs.Lyons.Weregardthiscaseasoneofmurder,andtheevidencemayimplicatenotonlyyourfriendMr.Stapletonbuthiswifeaswell."Theladysprangfromherchair."Hiswife!"shecried."Thefactisnolongerasecret.Thepersonwhohaspassedforhissisterisreally

hiswife."Mrs.Lyonshadresumedherseat.Herhandsweregraspingthearmsofherchair,

andIsawthatthepinknailshadturnedwhitewiththepressureofhergrip."Hiswife!"shesaidagain."Hiswife!Heisnotamarriedman."SherlockHolmesshruggedhisshoulders."Proveittome!Proveittome!Andifyoucandoso—!"Thefierceflashofhereyessaidmorethananywords."Ihavecomepreparedtodoso,"saidHolmes,drawingseveralpapersfromhis

pocket. "Here is a photograph of the couple taken in York four years ago. It isindorsed 'Mr. andMrs.Vandeleur,' but youwill have no difficulty in recognizinghim,andheralso,ifyouknowherbysight.HerearethreewrittendescriptionsbytrustworthywitnessesofMr.andMrs.Vandeleur,whoat that timekeptSt.Oliver'sprivateschool.Readthemandseeifyoucandoubttheidentityofthesepeople."She glanced at them, and then looked up at us with the set, rigid face of a

desperatewoman."Mr.Holmes," she said, "thismanhadofferedmemarriageon condition that I

could get a divorce from my husband. He has lied to me, the villain, in everyconceivable way. Not one word of truth has he ever told me. And why—why? Iimaginedthatallwasformyownsake.ButnowIseethatIwasneveranythingbutatoolinhishands.WhyshouldIpreservefaithwithhimwhoneverkeptanywithme?WhyshouldItrytoshieldhimfromtheconsequencesofhisownwickedacts?Askmewhatyoulike,andthereisnothingwhichIshallholdback.OnethingIsweartoyou,andthatisthatwhenIwrotetheletterIneverdreamedofanyharmtotheoldgentleman,whohadbeenmykindestfriend.""I entirely believe you, madam," said Sherlock Holmes. "The recital of these

eventsmustbeverypainful toyou,andperhaps itwillmake iteasier if I tellyouwhatoccurred,andyoucancheckmeifImakeanymaterialmistake.ThesendingofthisletterwassuggestedtoyoubyStapleton?""Hedictatedit.""I presume that the reason he gave was that you would receive help from Sir

Charlesforthelegalexpensesconnectedwithyourdivorce?""Exactly."

"And then after you had sent the letter he dissuaded you from keeping theappointment?""Hetoldmethatitwouldhurthisself-respectthatanyothermanshouldfindthe

money for such an object, and that though hewas a poorman himself hewoulddevotehislastpennytoremovingtheobstacleswhichdividedus.""Heappears tobeaveryconsistentcharacter.And thenyouheardnothinguntil

youreadthereportsofthedeathinthepaper?""No.""And he made you swear to say nothing about your appointment with Sir

Charles?""He did. He said that the death was a very mysterious one, and that I should

certainlybesuspectedifthefactscameout.Hefrightenedmeintoremainingsilent.""Quiteso.Butyouhadyoursuspicions?"Shehesitatedandlookeddown."I knewhim," she said. "But if he had kept faithwithme I should always have

donesowithhim.""Ithinkthatonthewholeyouhavehadafortunateescape,"saidSherlockHolmes.

"Youhavehadhiminyourpowerandheknewit,andyetyouarealive.Youhavebeenwalkingforsomemonthsveryneartotheedgeofaprecipice.Wemustwishyougood-morningnow,Mrs.Lyons,and it isprobable thatyouwillvery shortlyhearfromusagain.""Ourcasebecomesroundedoff,anddifficultyafterdifficultythinsawayinfront

ofus,"saidHolmesaswestoodwaitingforthearrivaloftheexpressfromtown."Ishallsoonbeinthepositionofbeingabletoputintoasingleconnectednarrativeone of the most singular and sensational crimes of modern times. Students ofcriminologywill remember theanalogous incidents inGodno, inLittleRussia, intheyear '66,andofcoursetherearetheAndersonmurdersinNorthCarolina,butthiscasepossessessomefeatureswhichareentirelyitsown.Evennowwehavenoclearcaseagainstthisverywilyman.ButIshallbeverymuchsurprisedifitisnotclearenoughbeforewegotobedthisnight."TheLondonexpresscameroaringintothestation,andasmall,wirybulldogofa

manhadsprungfromafirst-classcarriage.Weallthreeshookhands,andIsawatoncefromthereverentialwayinwhichLestradegazedatmycompanionthathehadlearnedagooddealsincethedayswhentheyhadfirstworkedtogether.Icouldwellremember the scornwhich the theories of the reasoner used then to excite in thepracticalman."Anythinggood?"heasked."Thebiggestthingforyears,"saidHolmes."Wehavetwohoursbeforeweneed

think of starting. I think we might employ it in getting some dinner and then,Lestrade,wewilltaketheLondonfogoutofyourthroatbygivingyouabreathofthepurenightairofDartmoor.Neverbeenthere?Ah,well,Idon'tsupposeyouwillforgetyourfirstvisit."

Chapter14.TheHoundoftheBaskervillesOneofSherlockHolmes'sdefects—if,indeed,onemaycallitadefect—wasthat

hewasexceedinglyloathtocommunicatehisfullplanstoanyotherpersonuntiltheinstantof their fulfilment.Partly itcamenodoubt fromhisownmasterfulnature,whichlovedtodominateandsurprisethosewhowerearoundhim.Partlyalsofromhis professional caution,which urged him never to take any chances. The result,however,wasvery tryingfor thosewhowereactingashisagentsandassistants. Ihad often suffered under it, but nevermore so than during that long drive in thedarkness.Thegreat ordealwas in front of us; at lastwewere about tomakeourfinal effort, and yetHolmes had said nothing, and I could only surmisewhat hiscourseofactionwouldbe.Mynervesthrilledwithanticipationwhenatlastthecoldwinduponourfacesandthedark,voidspacesoneithersideofthenarrowroadtoldme thatwewere back upon themoor once again. Every stride of the horses andeveryturnofthewheelswastakingusnearertooursupremeadventure.Our conversation was hampered by the presence of the driver of the hired

wagonette, so thatwewere forced to talkof trivialmatterswhenournervesweretense with emotion and anticipation. It was a relief to me, after that unnaturalrestraint,whenweatlastpassedFrankland'shouseandknewthatweweredrawingneartotheHallandtothesceneofaction.Wedidnotdriveuptothedoorbutgotdownnearthegateoftheavenue.ThewagonettewaspaidoffandorderedtoreturntoCoombeTraceyforthwith,whilewestartedtowalktoMerripitHouse."Areyouarmed,Lestrade?"Thelittledetectivesmiled."AslongasIhavemytrousersIhaveahip-pocket,and

aslongasIhavemyhip-pocketIhavesomethinginit.""Good!MyfriendandIarealsoreadyforemergencies.""You'remightycloseaboutthisaffair,Mr.Holmes.What'sthegamenow?""Awaitinggame.""My word, it does not seem a very cheerful place," said the detective with a

shiver,glancingroundhimatthegloomyslopesofthehillandatthehugelakeoffogwhichlayovertheGrimpenMire."Iseethelightsofahouseaheadofus.""ThatisMerripitHouseandtheendofourjourney.Imustrequestyoutowalkon

tiptoeandnottotalkaboveawhisper."We moved cautiously along the track as if we were bound for the house, but

Holmeshalteduswhenwewereabouttwohundredyardsfromit."Thiswilldo,"saidhe."Theserocksupontherightmakeanadmirablescreen.""Wearetowaithere?""Yes,we shallmakeour little ambushhere.Get into thishollow,Lestrade.You

havebeeninsidethehouse,haveyounot,Watson?Canyoutellthepositionoftherooms?Whatarethoselatticedwindowsatthisend?""Ithinktheyarethekitchenwindows.""Andtheonebeyond,whichshinessobrightly?""Thatiscertainlythedining-room.""Theblindsareup.Youknowthelieofthelandbest.Creepforwardquietlyand

seewhat they are doing—but for heaven's sake don't let them know that they arewatched!"I tiptoed down the path and stooped behind the lowwallwhich surrounded the

stunted orchard. Creeping in its shadow I reached a point whence I could lookstraightthroughtheuncurtainedwindow.Therewere only twomen in the room,SirHenry andStapleton.They satwith

their profiles towards me on either side of the round table. Both of them weresmokingcigars,andcoffeeandwinewere in frontof them.Stapletonwas talkingwithanimation,butthebaronetlookedpaleanddistrait.Perhapsthethoughtofthatlonelywalkacrosstheill-omenedmoorwasweighingheavilyuponhismind.As Iwatched themStapleton rose and left the room,whileSirHenry filled his

glassagainandleanedbackinhischair,puffingathiscigar.Iheardthecreakofadoorandthecrispsoundofbootsupongravel.ThestepspassedalongthepathontheothersideofthewallunderwhichIcrouched.Lookingover,Isawthenaturalistpauseat thedoorof anout-house in the cornerof theorchard.Akey turned in alock,andashepassed in therewasacuriousscufflingnoisefromwithin.Hewasonlyaminuteorsoinside,andthenIheardthekeyturnoncemoreandhepassedmeandreenteredthehouse.Isawhimrejoinhisguest,andIcreptquietlybacktowheremycompanionswerewaitingtotellthemwhatIhadseen."Yousay,Watson, that theladyisnot there?"HolmesaskedwhenIhadfinished

myreport."No.""Where can she be, then, since there is no light in any other room except the

kitchen?""Icannotthinkwheresheis."IhavesaidthatoverthegreatGrimpenMiretherehungadense,whitefog.Itwas

driftingslowlyinourdirectionandbankeditselfuplikeawallonthatsideofus,lowbut thick andwell defined.Themoon shone on it, and it looked like a greatshimmering ice-field, with the heads of the distant tors as rocks borne upon itssurface. Holmes's face was turned towards it, and he muttered impatiently as hewatcheditssluggishdrift."It'smovingtowardsus,Watson.""Isthatserious?""Very serious, indeed—the one thing upon earthwhich could have disarranged

myplans.Hecan'tbeverylong,now.Itisalreadyteno'clock.Oursuccessandevenhislifemaydependuponhiscomingoutbeforethefogisoverthepath."Thenightwasclearandfineaboveus.Thestarsshonecoldandbright,whilea

half-moonbathedthewholesceneinasoft,uncertainlight.Beforeuslaythedarkbulkofthehouse,itsserratedroofandbristlingchimneyshardoutlinedagainstthesilver-spangledsky.Broadbarsofgoldenlightfromthelowerwindowsstretchedacrosstheorchardandthemoor.Oneofthemwassuddenlyshutoff.Theservantshadleftthekitchen.Thereonlyremainedthelampinthedining-roomwherethetwomen,themurderoushostandtheunconsciousguest,stillchattedovertheircigars.Everyminute thatwhitewoolly plainwhich covered one-half of themoorwas

driftingcloserandclosertothehouse.Alreadythefirstthinwispsofitwerecurlingacrossthegoldensquareofthelightedwindow.Thefartherwalloftheorchardwasalreadyinvisible,andthetreeswerestandingoutofaswirlofwhitevapour.Aswewatched it the fog-wreaths came crawling round both corners of the house androlledslowlyintoonedensebankonwhichtheupperfloorandtherooffloatedlikea strange shipupona shadowysea.Holmes struckhishandpassionatelyupon therockinfrontofusandstampedhisfeetinhisimpatience."Ifheisn'toutinaquarterofanhourthepathwillbecovered.Inhalfanhourwe

won'tbeabletoseeourhandsinfrontofus.""Shallwemovefartherbackuponhigherground?""Yes,Ithinkitwouldbeaswell."Soasthefog-bankflowedonwardwefellbackbeforeituntilwewerehalfamile

from the house, and still that dense white sea, with themoon silvering its upperedge,sweptslowlyandinexorablyon."Wearegoingtoofar,"saidHolmes."Wedarenot takethechanceofhisbeing

overtakenbeforehecanreachus.Atallcostswemustholdourgroundwhereweare."He dropped on his knees and clapped his ear to the ground. "ThankGod, IthinkthatIhearhimcoming."A sound of quick steps broke the silence of the moor. Crouching among the

stones we stared intently at the silver-tipped bank in front of us. The steps grewlouder,andthroughthefog,asthroughacurtain, theresteppedthemanwhomwe

wereawaiting.Helookedroundhiminsurpriseasheemergedintotheclear,starlitnight.Thenhecameswiftlyalongthepath,passedclosetowherewelay,andwenton up the long slope behind us.As hewalked he glanced continually over eithershoulder,likeamanwhoisillatease."Hist!"criedHolmes,andIheardthesharpclickofacockingpistol."Lookout!

It'scoming!"Therewas a thin, crisp, continuous patter from somewhere in the heart of that

crawlingbank.Thecloudwaswithinfiftyyardsofwherewelay,andweglaredatit,all three, uncertainwhat horrorwas about to break from the heart of it. Iwas atHolmes'selbow,andIglancedforaninstantathisface.Itwaspaleandexultant,hiseyesshiningbrightlyinthemoonlight.Butsuddenlytheystartedforwardinarigid,fixed stare, andhis lipsparted in amazement.At the same instantLestradegave ayell of terror and threwhimself facedownwardupon theground. I sprang tomyfeet,my inert handgraspingmypistol,mymindparalyzedby thedreadful shapewhich had sprung out upon us from the shadows of the fog. A hound it was, anenormous coal-blackhound, but not such ahound asmortal eyeshave ever seen.Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, itsmuzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame. Never in thedeliriousdreamofadisorderedbraincouldanythingmoresavage,moreappalling,morehellishbeconceivedthanthatdarkformandsavagefacewhichbrokeuponusoutofthewalloffog.Withlongboundsthehugeblackcreaturewasleapingdownthetrack,following

harduponthefootstepsofourfriend.Soparalyzedwerewebytheapparitionthatweallowedhimtopassbeforewehadrecoveredournerve.ThenHolmesandIbothfiredtogether,andthecreaturegaveahideoushowl,whichshowedthatoneatleasthadhithim.Hedidnotpause,however,butboundedonward.FarawayonthepathwesawSirHenrylookingback,hisfacewhiteinthemoonlight,hishandsraisedinhorror,glaringhelplessly at the frightful thingwhichwashuntinghimdown.Butthat cry of pain from the hound had blown all our fears to the winds. If he wasvulnerablehewasmortal,andifwecouldwoundhimwecouldkillhim.NeverhaveI seen a man run as Holmes ran that night. I am reckoned fleet of foot, but heoutpacedmeasmuchasIoutpacedthelittleprofessional.InfrontofusasweflewupthetrackweheardscreamafterscreamfromSirHenryandthedeeproarofthehound.Iwasintimetoseethebeastspringuponitsvictim,hurlhimtotheground,andworryathisthroat.ButthenextinstantHolmeshademptiedfivebarrelsofhisrevolver into thecreature'sflank.Witha lasthowlofagonyandavicioussnapintheair,itrolleduponitsback,fourfeetpawingfuriously,andthenfelllimpuponitsside.Istooped,panting,andpressedmypistoltothedreadful,shimmeringhead,butitwasuselesstopressthetrigger.Thegianthoundwasdead.Sir Henry lay insensible where he had fallen. We tore away his collar, and

Holmes breathed a prayer of gratitudewhenwe saw that there was no sign of awoundand that the rescuehadbeen in time.Alreadyour friend'seyelids shiveredandhemadea feebleeffort tomove.Lestrade thrusthisbrandy-flaskbetween thebaronet'steeth,andtwofrightenedeyeswerelookingupatus."MyGod!"hewhispered."Whatwasit?What,inheaven'sname,wasit?""It's dead, whatever it is," saidHolmes. "We've laid the family ghost once and

forever."In mere size and strength it was a terrible creature which was lying stretched

beforeus.Itwasnotapurebloodhoundanditwasnotapuremastiff;butitappearedtobeacombinationofthetwo—gaunt,savage,andaslargeasasmalllioness.Evennow in the stillness of death, the huge jaws seemed to be drippingwith a bluishflame and the small, deep-set, cruel eyeswere ringedwith fire. I placedmyhandupon theglowingmuzzle, andas Iheld themupmyown fingers smoulderedandgleamedinthedarkness."Phosphorus,"Isaid."Acunningpreparationofit,"saidHolmes,sniffingatthedeadanimal."Thereis

nosmellwhichmighthaveinterferedwithhispowerofscent.Weoweyouadeepapology, Sir Henry, for having exposed you to this fright. I was prepared for ahound,butnotforsuchacreatureasthis.Andthefoggaveuslittletimetoreceivehim.""Youhavesavedmylife.""Havingfirstendangeredit.Areyoustrongenoughtostand?""GivemeanothermouthfulofthatbrandyandIshallbereadyforanything.So!

Now,ifyouwillhelpmeup.Whatdoyouproposetodo?""Toleaveyouhere.Youarenotfitforfurtheradventurestonight.Ifyouwillwait,

oneorotherofuswillgobackwithyoutotheHall."Hetriedtostaggertohisfeet;buthewasstillghastlypaleandtremblinginevery

limb.Wehelpedhim toa rock,wherehesat shiveringwithhis faceburied inhishands."Wemustleaveyounow,"saidHolmes."Therestofourworkmustbedone,and

everymomentisofimportance.Wehaveourcase,andnowweonlywantourman."It'sathousandtooneagainstourfindinghimatthehouse,"hecontinuedaswe

retracedourstepsswiftlydownthepath."Thoseshotsmusthave toldhimthat thegamewasup.""Weweresomedistanceoff,andthisfogmayhavedeadenedthem.""Hefollowedthehoundtocallhimoff—ofthatyoumaybecertain.No,no,he's

gonebythistime!Butwe'llsearchthehouseandmakesure."Thefrontdoorwasopen,sowerushedinandhurriedfromroomtoroomtothe

amazementofadodderingoldmanservant,whometusinthepassage.Therewasnolightsaveinthedining-room,butHolmescaughtupthelampandleftnocornerofthehouseunexplored.Nosigncouldweseeofthemanwhomwewerechasing.Ontheupperfloor,however,oneofthebedroomdoorswaslocked."There's someone in here," cried Lestrade. "I can hear amovement. Open this

door!"Afaintmoaningandrustlingcamefromwithin.Holmesstruckthedoorjustover

thelockwiththeflatofhisfootanditflewopen.Pistolinhand,weallthreerushedintotheroom.But there was no sign within it of that desperate and defiant villain whomwe

expectedtosee.Insteadwewerefacedbyanobjectsostrangeandsounexpectedthatwestoodforamomentstaringatitinamazement.Theroomhadbeenfashionedintoasmallmuseum,andthewallswerelinedbya

number of glass-topped cases full of that collection of butterflies and moths theformationofwhichhadbeentherelaxationofthiscomplexanddangerousman.Inthecentreofthisroomtherewasanuprightbeam,whichhadbeenplacedatsomeperiodasasupportfortheoldworm-eatenbaulkoftimberwhichspannedtheroof.Tothispostafigurewastied,soswathedandmuffledinthesheetswhichhadbeenusedtosecureitthatonecouldnotforthemomenttellwhetheritwasthatofamanorawoman.Onetowelpassedroundthethroatandwassecuredatthebackofthepillar.Anothercoveredthelowerpartoftheface,andoverittwodarkeyes—eyesfullofgriefandshameandadreadfulquestioning—staredbackatus. Inaminutewe had torn off the gag, unswathed the bonds, andMrs. Stapleton sank upon thefloor in front of us.Asher beautiful head fell uponher chest I saw the clear redwealofawhiplashacrossherneck."The brute!" criedHolmes. "Here, Lestrade, your brandy-bottle! Put her in the

chair!Shehasfaintedfromill-usageandexhaustion."Sheopenedhereyesagain."Ishesafe?"sheasked."Hasheescaped?""Hecannotescapeus,madam.""No,no,Ididnotmeanmyhusband.SirHenry?Ishesafe?""Yes.""Andthehound?""Itisdead."Shegavealongsighofsatisfaction."ThankGod!ThankGod!Oh,thisvillain!Seehowhehastreatedme!"Sheshot

herarmsout fromhersleeves,andwesawwithhorror that theywereallmottledwith bruises. "But this is nothing—nothing! It is my mind and soul that he has

tortured and defiled. I could endure it all, ill-usage, solitude, a life of deception,everything,as longas Icouldstillcling to thehope that Ihadhis love,butnowIknowthatinthisalsoIhavebeenhisdupeandhistool."Shebrokeintopassionatesobbingasshespoke."Youbearhimnogoodwill,madam,"saidHolmes."Tellusthenwhereweshall

findhim.Ifyouhaveeveraidedhiminevil,helpusnowandsoatone.""Thereisbutoneplacewherehecanhavefled,"sheanswered."Thereisanold

tinmineonanislandintheheartofthemire.Itwastherethathekepthishoundandtherealsohehadmadepreparationssothathemighthavearefuge.Thatiswherehewouldfly."The fog-bank lay like white wool against the window. Holmes held the lamp

towardsit."See,"saidhe."NoonecouldfindhiswayintotheGrimpenMiretonight."She laughed and clapped her hands. Her eyes and teeth gleamed with fierce

merriment."Hemayfindhiswayin,butneverout,"shecried."Howcanheseetheguiding

wandstonight?Weplantedthemtogether,heandI,tomarkthepathwaythroughthemire.Oh,ifIcouldonlyhavepluckedthemouttoday.Thenindeedyouwouldhavehadhimatyourmercy!"Itwasevidenttousthatallpursuitwasinvainuntilthefoghadlifted.Meanwhile

weleftLestradeinpossessionofthehousewhileHolmesandIwentbackwiththebaronettoBaskervilleHall.ThestoryoftheStapletonscouldnolongerbewithheldfromhim,buthetooktheblowbravelywhenhelearnedthetruthaboutthewomanwhomhehadloved.Buttheshockofthenight'sadventureshadshatteredhisnerves,andbeforemorninghelaydeliriousinahighfeverunderthecareofDr.Mortimer.ThetwoofthemweredestinedtotraveltogetherroundtheworldbeforeSirHenryhad become oncemore the hale, hearty man that he had been before he becamemasterofthatill-omenedestate.AndnowIcomerapidly to theconclusionof thissingularnarrative, inwhichI

have tried to make the reader share those dark fears and vague surmises whichcloudedourlivessolongandendedinsotragicamanner.Onthemorningafterthedeathof thehoundthefoghadliftedandwewereguidedbyMrs.Stapletonto thepointwhere theyhad foundapathway through thebog. Ithelpedus to realize thehorrorofthiswoman'slifewhenwesawtheeagernessandjoywithwhichshelaidusonherhusband'strack.Weleftherstandinguponthethinpeninsulaoffirm,peatysoilwhich tapered out into thewidespread bog. From the end of it a smallwandplantedhereandthereshowedwherethepathzigzaggedfromtufttotuftofrushesamongthosegreen-scummedpitsandfoulquagmireswhichbarredthewaytothestranger. Rank reeds and lush, slimy water-plants sent an odour of decay and a

heavymiasmatic vapour onto our faces,while a false step plunged usmore thanonce thigh-deep into the dark, quivering mire, which shook for yards in softundulationsaroundour feet. Its tenaciousgrippluckedatourheelsaswewalked,andwhenwesankintoititwasasifsomemalignanthandwastuggingusdownintothose obscene depths, so grim and purposefulwas the clutch inwhich it held us.Once only we saw a trace that someone had passed that perilous way before us.Fromamidatuftofcottongrasswhichboreitupoutoftheslimesomedarkthingwasprojecting.Holmessanktohiswaistashesteppedfromthepathtoseizeit,andhadwenotbeenthere todraghimouthecouldneverhavesethisfootuponfirmlandagain.Heheldanoldblackbootintheair."Meyers,Toronto,"wasprintedontheleatherinside."Itisworthamudbath,"saidhe."ItisourfriendSirHenry'smissingboot.""ThrowntherebyStapletoninhisflight.""Exactly.Heretaineditinhishandafterusingittosetthehounduponthetrack.

Hefledwhenheknewthegamewasup,stillclutchingit.Andhehurleditawayatthispointofhisflight.Weknowatleastthathecamesofarinsafety."Butmorethanthatwewereneverdestinedtoknow,thoughtherewasmuchwhich

wemight surmise. Therewas no chance of finding footsteps in themire, for therisingmud oozed swiftly in upon them, but as we at last reached firmer groundbeyond themorasswe all looked eagerly for them.But no slightest signof themevermetour eyes. If the earth told a true story, thenStapletonnever reached thatislandof refuge towardswhichhe struggled through the fogupon that last night.Somewhere in theheartof thegreatGrimpenMire,downin thefoulslimeof thehugemorasswhichhadsuckedhimin, thiscoldandcruel-heartedman is foreverburied.Manytraceswefoundofhiminthebog-girtislandwherehehadhidhissavage

ally.Ahugedriving-wheelandashafthalf-filledwithrubbishshowedthepositionofanabandonedmine.Besideitwerethecrumblingremainsofthecottagesoftheminers,drivenawaynodoubtbythefoulreekofthesurroundingswamp.Inoneoftheseastapleandchainwithaquantityofgnawedbonesshowedwheretheanimalhadbeenconfined.Askeletonwithatangleofbrownhairadheringtoitlayamongthedebris."A dog!" said Holmes. "By Jove, a curly-haired spaniel. Poor Mortimer will

neverseehispetagain.Well,Idonotknowthatthisplacecontainsanysecretwhichwehavenotalreadyfathomed.Hecouldhidehishound,buthecouldnothush itsvoice,andhencecamethosecrieswhichevenindaylightwerenotpleasanttohear.Onanemergencyhecouldkeepthehoundin theout-houseatMerripit,but itwasalwaysarisk,anditwasonlyonthesupremeday,whichheregardedastheendofall his efforts, that he dared do it. This paste in the tin is no doubt the luminous

mixture with which the creature was daubed. It was suggested, of course, by thestoryofthefamilyhell-hound,andbythedesiretofrightenoldSirCharlestodeath.Nowonderthepoordevilofaconvictranandscreamed,evenasourfrienddid,andasweourselvesmighthavedone,whenhesawsuchacreaturebounding throughthedarknessofthemooruponhistrack.Itwasacunningdevice,for,apartfromthechanceofdrivingyourvictim tohisdeath,whatpeasantwouldventure to inquiretoocloselyintosuchacreatureshouldhegetsightofit,asmanyhavedone,uponthemoor?IsaiditinLondon,Watson,andIsayitagainnow,thatneveryethavewehelpedtohuntdownamoredangerousmanthanhewhoislyingyonder"—heswepthis long arm towards the huge mottled expanse of green-splotched bog whichstretchedawayuntilitmergedintotherussetslopesofthemoor.

Chapter15.ARetrospectionItwastheendofNovember,andHolmesandIsat,uponarawandfoggynight,on

either side of a blazing fire in our sitting-room inBaker Street. Since the tragicupshotofourvisittoDevonshirehehadbeenengagedintwoaffairsoftheutmostimportance, in thefirstofwhichhehadexposedtheatrociousconductofColonelUpwoodinconnectionwiththefamouscardscandaloftheNonpareilClub,whileinthesecondhehaddefendedtheunfortunateMme.Montpensierfromthechargeofmurderwhichhungoverherinconnectionwiththedeathofherstep-daughter,Mlle.Carere,theyoungladywho,asitwillberemembered,wasfoundsixmonthslateraliveandmarriedinNewYork.Myfriendwasinexcellentspiritsoverthesuccesswhichhadattendedasuccessionofdifficultandimportantcases,sothatIwasabletoinducehimtodiscussthedetailsoftheBaskervillemystery.IhadwaitedpatientlyfortheopportunityforIwasawarethathewouldneverpermitcasestooverlap,andthathisclearandlogicalmindwouldnotbedrawnfromitspresentworktodwelluponmemoriesofthepast.SirHenryandDr.Mortimerwere,however,inLondon,ontheirwaytothatlongvoyagewhichhadbeenrecommendedfortherestorationofhisshatterednerves.Theyhadcalleduponusthatveryafternoon,sothatitwasnaturalthatthesubjectshouldcomeupfordiscussion."Thewholecourseofevents,"saidHolmes,"fromthepointofviewoftheman

who called himself Stapleton was simple and direct, although to us, who had nomeansinthebeginningofknowingthemotivesofhisactionsandcouldonlylearnpartof thefacts, itallappearedexceedinglycomplex. Ihavehad theadvantageoftwoconversationswithMrs.Stapleton,andthecasehasnowbeensoentirelyclearedupthatIamnotawarethatthereisanythingwhichhasremainedasecrettous.Youwill find a few notes upon thematter under the heading B inmy indexed list ofcases.""Perhaps you would kindly give me a sketch of the course of events from

memory.""Certainly,thoughIcannotguaranteethatIcarryallthefactsinmymind.Intense

mental concentration has a curious way of blotting out what has passed. Thebarristerwhohashis caseathis fingers' endsand is able to arguewithanexpertuponhisownsubjectfindsthataweekortwoofthecourtswilldriveitalloutofhishead once more. So each of my cases displaces the last, and Mlle. Carere hasblurredmyrecollectionofBaskervilleHall.Tomorrowsomeother littleproblemmaybesubmittedtomynoticewhichwillinturndispossessthefairFrenchladyandthe infamousUpwood.So far as thecaseof thehoundgoes,however, Iwillgive

youthecourseofeventsasnearlyasIcan,andyouwillsuggestanythingwhichImayhaveforgotten."My inquiries showbeyondallquestion that the familyportraitdidnot lie, and

thatthisfellowwasindeedaBaskerville.HewasasonofthatRodgerBaskerville,the younger brother of Sir Charles, who fled with a sinister reputation to SouthAmerica,where hewas said to have died unmarried.He did, as amatter of fact,marry,andhadonechild,thisfellow,whoserealnameisthesameashisfather's.HemarriedBerylGarcia, oneof thebeautiesofCostaRica, and,havingpurloinedaconsiderablesumofpublicmoney,hechangedhisname toVandeleurand fled toEngland, where he established a school in the east of Yorkshire. His reason forattempting this special line of businesswas that he had struck up an acquaintancewith a consumptive tutor upon the voyage home, and that he had used thisman'sability tomake theundertaking a success.Fraser, the tutor, diedhowever, and theschool which had begun well sank from disrepute into infamy. The VandeleursfounditconvenienttochangetheirnametoStapleton,andhebroughttheremainsofhisfortune,hisschemesforthefuture,andhistasteforentomologytothesouthofEngland.IlearnedattheBritishMuseumthathewasarecognizedauthorityuponthesubject,andthat thenameofVandeleurhasbeenpermanentlyattachedtoacertainmothwhichhehad,inhisYorkshiredays,beenthefirsttodescribe."Wenowcometothatportionofhislifewhichhasprovedtobeofsuchintense

interesttous.Thefellowhadevidentlymadeinquiryandfoundthatonlytwolivesintervenedbetweenhimandavaluableestate.WhenhewenttoDevonshirehisplanswere,Ibelieve,exceedinglyhazy,butthathemeantmischieffromthefirstisevidentfromthewayinwhichhetookhiswifewithhiminthecharacterofhissister.Theideaof usingher as a decoywas clearly already in hismind, thoughhemaynothavebeencertainhowthedetailsofhisplotweretobearranged.Hemeant in theendtohavetheestate,andhewasreadytouseanytoolorrunanyriskforthatend.Hisfirstactwastoestablishhimselfasneartohisancestralhomeashecould,andhis secondwas to cultivate a friendshipwithSirCharlesBaskerville andwith theneighbours."Thebaronethimselftoldhimaboutthefamilyhound,andsopreparedtheway

forhisowndeath.Stapleton,asIwillcontinuetocallhim,knewthattheoldman'sheartwasweakandthatashockwouldkillhim.SomuchhehadlearnedfromDr.Mortimer.Hehadheardalso thatSirCharleswas superstitiousandhad taken thisgrimlegendveryseriously.Hisingeniousmindinstantlysuggestedawaybywhichthe baronet could be done to death, and yet it would be hardly possible to bringhometheguilttotherealmurderer."Havingconceivedtheideaheproceededtocarryitoutwithconsiderablefinesse.

Anordinary schemerwouldhavebeencontent toworkwitha savagehound.Theuseofartificialmeans tomake thecreaturediabolicalwasa flashofgeniusupon

his part. The dog he bought in London from Ross and Mangles, the dealers inFulhamRoad.Itwasthestrongestandmostsavageintheirpossession.HebroughtitdownbytheNorthDevonlineandwalkedagreatdistanceoverthemoorsoastogetithomewithoutexcitinganyremarks.Hehadalreadyonhisinsecthuntslearnedto penetrate the Grimpen Mire, and so had found a safe hiding-place for thecreature.Herehekennelleditandwaitedhischance."Butitwassometimecoming.Theoldgentlemancouldnotbedecoyedoutside

of his grounds at night. Several times Stapleton lurked aboutwith his hound, butwithoutavail.Itwasduringthesefruitlessqueststhathe,orratherhisally,wasseenbypeasants,andthatthelegendofthedemondogreceivedanewconfirmation.Hehad hoped that his wife might lure Sir Charles to his ruin, but here she provedunexpectedly independent.Shewouldnotendeavour toentangle theoldgentlemaninasentimentalattachmentwhichmightdeliverhimovertohisenemy.Threatsandeven,Iamsorrytosay,blowsrefusedtomoveher.Shewouldhavenothingtodowithit,andforatimeStapletonwasatadeadlock."HefoundawayoutofhisdifficultiesthroughthechancethatSirCharles,who

hadconceivedafriendshipforhim,madehimtheministerofhischarityinthecaseof thisunfortunatewoman,Mrs.LauraLyons.Byrepresentinghimselfasasinglemanheacquiredcompleteinfluenceoverher,andhegavehertounderstandthatinthe event of her obtaining a divorce from her husband he wouldmarry her. HisplansweresuddenlybroughttoaheadbyhisknowledgethatSirCharleswasaboutto leave the Hall on the advice of Dr.Mortimer, with whose opinion he himselfpretended to coincide. He must act at once, or his victim might get beyond hispower.HethereforeputpressureuponMrs.Lyonstowritethisletter,imploringtheoldmantogiveheraninterviewontheeveningbeforehisdepartureforLondon.Hethen,byaspeciousargument,preventedherfromgoing,andsohadthechanceforwhichhehadwaited."Driving back in the evening from Coombe Tracey he was in time to get his

hound,totreatitwithhisinfernalpaint,andtobringthebeastroundtothegateatwhich he had reason to expect that hewould find the old gentlemanwaiting.Thedog,incitedbyitsmaster,sprangoverthewicket-gateandpursuedtheunfortunatebaronet, who fled screaming down the yew alley. In that gloomy tunnel it mustindeedhavebeenadreadfulsight tosee thathugeblackcreature,with its flamingjawsandblazingeyes,boundingafteritsvictim.Hefelldeadattheendofthealleyfromheartdiseaseandterror.Thehoundhadkeptuponthegrassyborderwhilethebaronethadrundownthepath,sothatnotrackbuttheman'swasvisible.Onseeinghimlyingstillthecreaturehadprobablyapproachedtosniffathim,butfindinghimdead had turned away again. It was then that it left the print which was actuallyobservedbyDr.Mortimer.ThehoundwascalledoffandhurriedawaytoitslairintheGrimpenMire,andamysterywasleftwhichpuzzledtheauthorities,alarmedthe

countryside,andfinallybroughtthecasewithinthescopeofourobservation."So much for the death of Sir Charles Baskerville. You perceive the devilish

cunningof it, for really itwouldbealmost impossible tomakeacaseagainst therealmurderer.Hisonlyaccomplicewasonewhocouldnevergivehimaway,andthe grotesque, inconceivable nature of the device only served to make it moreeffective.Bothofthewomenconcernedinthecase,Mrs.StapletonandMrs.LauraLyons,wereleftwithastrongsuspicionagainstStapleton.Mrs.Stapletonknewthathehaddesignsupontheoldman,andalsooftheexistenceofthehound.Mrs.Lyonsknewneitherof thesethings,buthadbeenimpressedbythedeathoccurringat thetimeofanuncancelledappointmentwhichwasonlyknowntohim.However,bothofthemwereunderhisinfluence,andhehadnothingtofearfromthem.Thefirsthalfofhistaskwassuccessfullyaccomplishedbutthemoredifficultstillremained."ItispossiblethatStapletondidnotknowoftheexistenceofanheirinCanada.In

anycasehewouldverysoonlearnitfromhisfriendDr.Mortimer,andhewastoldbythelatteralldetailsaboutthearrivalofHenryBaskerville.Stapleton'sfirstideawas that this young stranger from Canada might possibly be done to death inLondonwithoutcomingdowntoDevonshireatall.Hedistrustedhiswifeeversinceshehadrefusedtohelphiminlayingatrapfortheoldman,andhedarednotleaveher longoutofhissightforfearheshouldlosehis influenceoverher.Itwasforthis reason that he took her to London with him. They lodged, I find, at theMexboroughPrivateHotel,inCravenStreet,whichwasactuallyoneofthosecalleduponbymyagent in searchofevidence.Herehekepthiswife imprisoned inherroomwhile he, disguised in a beard, followedDr.Mortimer toBaker Street andafterwards to the station and to the Northumberland Hotel. His wife had someinklingofhisplans;butshehadsuchafearofherhusband—afearfoundeduponbrutalill-treatment—thatshedarenotwritetowarnthemanwhomsheknewtobeindanger.IfthelettershouldfallintoStapleton'shandsherownlifewouldnotbesafe.Eventually, asweknow, sheadopted theexpedientof cuttingout thewordswhichwouldformthemessage,andaddressingtheletterinadisguisedhand.Itreachedthebaronet,andgavehimthefirstwarningofhisdanger."ItwasveryessentialforStapletontogetsomearticleofSirHenry'sattiresothat,

incasehewasdriventousethedog,hemightalwayshavethemeansofsettinghimuponhistrack.Withcharacteristicpromptnessandaudacityhesetaboutthisatonce,andwecannotdoubtthatthebootsorchamber-maidofthehotelwaswellbribedtohelphiminhisdesign.Bychance,however,thefirstbootwhichwasprocuredforhimwasanewoneand,therefore,uselessforhispurpose.Hethenhaditreturnedandobtained another—amost instructive incident, since it proved conclusively tomymind that we were dealing with a real hound, as no other supposition couldexplain this anxiety toobtain anoldboot and this indifference to a newone.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 dulyconsideredandscientificallyhandled,theonewhichismostlikelytoelucidateit."Then we had the visit from our friends next morning, shadowed always by

Stapletonin thecab.Fromhisknowledgeofourroomsandofmyappearance,aswell as fromhisgeneral conduct, I am inclined to think thatStapleton's careerofcrimehasbeenbynomeanslimitedtothissingleBaskervilleaffair.Itissuggestivethatduringthelast threeyearstherehavebeenfourconsiderableburglariesinthewestcountry,fornoneofwhichwasanycriminaleverarrested.Thelastofthese,atFolkestoneCourt, inMay,was remarkable for the cold-blooded pistolling of thepage,whosurprisedthemaskedandsolitaryburglar.Icannotdoubt thatStapletonrecruited his waning resources in this fashion, and that for years he has been adesperateanddangerousman."Wehadanexampleofhisreadinessofresourcethatmorningwhenhegotaway

fromussosuccessfully,andalsoofhisaudacityinsendingbackmyownnametomethroughthecabman.FromthatmomentheunderstoodthatIhadtakenoverthecaseinLondon,andthatthereforetherewasnochanceforhimthere.HereturnedtoDartmoorandawaitedthearrivalofthebaronet.""One moment!" said I. "You have, no doubt, described the sequence of events

correctly,but there isonepointwhichyouhave leftunexplained.WhatbecameofthehoundwhenitsmasterwasinLondon?""Ihavegivensomeattention to thismatterand it isundoubtedlyof importance.

TherecanbenoquestionthatStapletonhadaconfidant,thoughitisunlikelythatheeverplacedhimselfinhispowerbysharingallhisplanswithhim.Therewasanoldmanservant atMerripitHouse,whosenamewasAnthony.His connectionwith theStapletonscanbetracedforseveralyears,asfarbackastheschool-masteringdays,so thathemusthavebeenaware thathismasterandmistresswere reallyhusbandand wife. This man has disappeared and has escaped from the country. It issuggestivethatAnthonyisnotacommonnameinEngland,whileAntonioissoinall Spanish or Spanish-American countries. Theman, likeMrs. Stapleton herself,spokegoodEnglish,butwithacurious lispingaccent. Ihavemyselfseen thisoldmancrosstheGrimpenMirebythepathwhichStapletonhadmarkedout.Itisveryprobable, therefore, that in the absenceof hismaster itwashewhocared for thehound,thoughhemayneverhaveknownthepurposeforwhichthebeastwasused."TheStapletonsthenwentdowntoDevonshire,whithertheyweresoonfollowed

bySirHenryandyou.OnewordnowastohowIstoodmyselfatthattime.Itmaypossibly recur to your memory that when I examined the paper upon which theprintedwordswerefastenedImadeacloseinspectionforthewater-mark.IndoingsoIhelditwithinafewinchesofmyeyes,andwasconsciousofafaintsmellofthescentknownaswhite jessamine.Thereareseventy-fiveperfumes,whichit isverynecessarythatacriminalexpertshouldbeabletodistinguishfromeachother,and

caseshavemorethanoncewithinmyownexperiencedependedupontheirpromptrecognition.The scent suggested thepresenceof a lady, and alreadymy thoughtsbegantoturntowardstheStapletons.ThusIhadmadecertainofthehound,andhadguessedatthecriminalbeforeeverwewenttothewestcountry."ItwasmygametowatchStapleton.Itwasevident,however,thatIcouldnotdo

thisifIwerewithyou,sincehewouldbekeenlyonhisguard.Ideceivedeverybody,therefore,yourselfincluded,andIcamedownsecretlywhenIwassupposedtobeinLondon. My hardships were not so great as you imagined, though such triflingdetailsmust never interferewith the investigationof a case. I stayed for themostpartatCoombeTracey,andonlyusedthehutuponthemoorwhenitwasnecessaryto be near the scene of action. Cartwright had come down with me, and in hisdisguiseasacountryboyhewasofgreatassistance tome. Iwasdependentuponhim for food and clean linen. When I was watching Stapleton, Cartwright wasfrequentlywatchingyou,sothatIwasabletokeepmyhanduponallthestrings."Ihavealready toldyou thatyour reports reachedmerapidly,being forwarded

instantly fromBakerStreet toCoombeTracey.Theywereofgreat service tome,andespeciallythatoneincidentallytruthfulpieceofbiographyofStapleton's.IwasabletoestablishtheidentityofthemanandthewomanandknewatlastexactlyhowI stood. The case had been considerably complicated through the incident of theescapedconvictand the relationsbetweenhimand theBarrymores.Thisalsoyoucleared up in a very effective way, though I had already come to the sameconclusionsfrommyownobservations."BythetimethatyoudiscoveredmeuponthemoorIhadacompleteknowledge

ofthewholebusiness,butIhadnotacasewhichcouldgotoajury.EvenStapleton'sattempt upon Sir Henry that night which ended in the death of the unfortunateconvictdidnothelpusmuchinprovingmurderagainstourman.Thereseemedtobenoalternativebuttocatchhimred-handed,andtodosowehadtouseSirHenry,aloneandapparentlyunprotected,asabait.Wedid so,andat thecostofa severeshock toourclientwesucceeded incompletingourcaseanddrivingStapleton tohisdestruction.ThatSirHenryshouldhavebeenexposedtothisis,Imustconfess,areproach tomymanagement of the case, butwe had nomeans of foreseeing theterribleandparalyzingspectaclewhichthebeastpresented,norcouldwepredictthefogwhichenabledhimtoburstuponusatsuchshortnotice.Wesucceededinourobject at a cost which both the specialist and Dr. Mortimer assure me will be atemporaryone.Alongjourneymayenableourfriendtorecovernotonlyfromhisshatterednervesbutalsofromhiswoundedfeelings.Hislovefortheladywasdeepandsincere,andtohimthesaddestpartofallthisblackbusinesswasthatheshouldhavebeendeceivedbyher."Itonlyremainstoindicatethepartwhichshehadplayedthroughout.Therecan

be no doubt that Stapleton exercised an influence over herwhichmay have been

love or may have been fear, or very possibly both, since they are by no meansincompatible emotions. It was, at least, absolutely effective. At his command sheconsented to pass as his sister, though he found the limits of his power over herwhenheendeavouredtomakeherthedirectaccessorytomurder.ShewasreadytowarnSirHenrysofarasshecouldwithoutimplicatingherhusband,andagainandagainshetriedtodoso.Stapletonhimselfseemstohavebeencapableofjealousy,andwhenhesawthebaronetpayingcourttothelady,eventhoughitwaspartofhisown plan, still he could not help interrupting with a passionate outburst whichrevealed thefierysoulwhichhisself-containedmannersocleverlyconcealed.ByencouragingtheintimacyhemadeitcertainthatSirHenrywouldfrequentlycometoMerripitHouseand thathewould sooneror laterget theopportunitywhichhedesired.Onthedayofthecrisis,however,hiswifeturnedsuddenlyagainsthim.Shehadlearnedsomethingofthedeathoftheconvict,andsheknewthatthehoundwasbeingkeptintheouthouseontheeveningthatSirHenrywascomingtodinner.Shetaxedherhusbandwithhisintendedcrime,andafuriousscenefollowedinwhichheshowedherforthefirsttimethatshehadarivalinhislove.Herfidelityturnedinaninstant to bitter hatred, and he saw that she would betray him. He tied her up,therefore, that shemighthavenochanceofwarningSirHenry, andhehoped,nodoubt,thatwhenthewholecountrysideputdownthebaronet'sdeathtothecurseofhis family, as they certainly would do, he could win his wife back to accept anaccomplishedfactandtokeepsilentuponwhatsheknew.InthisIfancythatinanycasehemadeamiscalculation,andthat,ifwehadnotbeenthere,hisdoomwouldnonethelesshavebeensealed.AwomanofSpanishblooddoesnotcondonesuchan injury so lightly. And now,my dearWatson, without referring tomy notes, Icannot give you amore detailed account of this curious case. I do not know thatanythingessentialhasbeenleftunexplained.""Hecouldnothope to frightenSirHenry todeathashehaddone theolduncle

withhisbogiehound.""The beast was savage and half-starved. If its appearance did not frighten its

victimtodeath,atleastitwouldparalyzetheresistancewhichmightbeoffered.""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 livingunannouncedunderanothernamesoclosetotheproperty?Howcouldheclaimitwithoutcausingsuspicionandinquiry?""Itisaformidabledifficulty,andIfearthatyouasktoomuchwhenyouexpectme

tosolve it.Thepastand thepresentarewithin the fieldofmy inquiry,butwhatamanmaydointhefutureisahardquestiontoanswer.Mrs.Stapletonhasheardherhusband discuss the problem on several occasions. There were three possiblecourses. Hemight claim the property from South America, establish his identitybeforetheBritishauthoritiesthereandsoobtainthefortunewithoutevercomingto

Englandatall,orhemightadoptanelaboratedisguiseduringtheshorttimethatheneedbeinLondon;or,again,hemightfurnishanaccomplicewiththeproofsandpapers,puttinghim inasheir,and retainingaclaimuponsomeproportionofhisincome.We cannot doubt from what we know of him that he would have foundsomewayoutofthedifficulty.Andnow,mydearWatson,wehavehadsomeweeksofseverework,andforoneevening,Ithink,wemayturnourthoughtsintomorepleasantchannels.Ihaveaboxfor'LesHuguenots.'HaveyouheardtheDeReszkes?MightItroubleyouthentobereadyinhalfanhour,andwecanstopatMarcini'sforalittledinnerontheway?"

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TableofContentsTHEHOUNDOFTHEBASKERVILLESContentsChapter1.Mr.SherlockHolmesChapter2.TheCurseoftheBaskervillesChapter3.TheProblemChapter4.SirHenryBaskervilleChapter5.ThreeBrokenThreadsChapter6.BaskervilleHallChapter7.TheStapletonsofMerripitHouseChapter8.FirstReportofDr.WatsonChapter9.TheLightupontheMoor[SecondReportofDr.Watson]Chapter10.ExtractfromtheDiaryofDr.WatsonChapter11.TheManontheTorChapter12.DeathontheMoorChapter13.FixingtheNetsChapter14.TheHoundoftheBaskervillesChapter15.ARetrospection