The Hound of the Baskervilles

rvill

, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove w

atson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest

of facts?

ome inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiabl

he first place to get rid

s. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Staplet

l do m

arms, I

ht it as well

lver near you night and day, an

a first-class carriage and were

an swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. W

ys kept togeth

day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I s

n the park," said Baskerville. "B

ng very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some

it is gone

platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer

t far behind, and saw the tall, austere figure o

hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke

nce I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I

man who did not swear by

ed head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very ra

ived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tel

there is your first sight of the moor," said D

st sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-b

I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms, who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad,

d a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy l

Dr. Mortimer,

t, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and s

Perkins?" ask

half turned

w, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no si

they get five pounds if t

red to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't lik

s he,

the Notting H

so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding i

oodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh ou

lle Hall,

in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was

, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered

" he asked in

w Alley is on t

lanced round wit

's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you w

ith a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat-of-arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left o

nry! Welcome to

the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow

ht home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mor

ll stay and ha

show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-

with huge balks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long

an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for f

e walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the s

dinner to be ser

it r

happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you wi

ew cond

e were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to

your wife and yo

s quite conveni

rations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin

e signs of emotion upon

much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings ver

do you int

es in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means

the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more mode

e-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued.

f the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as th

two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a

lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one who is torn by an uncontrollable sorrow. I sat