The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  “But what is the danger?”

  “You know the story of the hound?”

  “I do not believe in such nonsense.”

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

  “Because it is the place of danger. That is Sir Henry’s nature. I fear that unless you can give me some more definite information than this it would be impossible to get him to move.”

  “ ‘You make too much of it, Dr. Watson,’ said she.”

  Richard Gutschmidt, Der Hund von Baskerville (Stuttgart: Robert Lutz Verlag, 1903)

  “ ‘You know the story of the hound?’ ”

  Sidney Paget. Strand Magazine, 1901

  “I cannot say anything definite, for I do not know anything definite.”

  “I would ask you one more question, Miss Stapleton. If you meant no more than this when you first spoke to me, why should you not wish your brother to overhear what you said? There is nothing to which he, or anyone else, could object.”

  “My brother is very anxious to have the Hall inhabited, for he thinks that it is for the good of the poor folk upon the moor. He would be angry if he knew that I had said anything which might induce Sir Henry to go away. But I have done my duty now, and I will say no more. I must get back, or he will miss me and suspect that I have seen you. Good-bye!”

  She turned, and had disappeared in a few minutes among the scattered boulders, while I, with my soul full of vague fears, pursued my way to Baskerville Hall.

  112 Merripit was an ancient tenement in the midst of Dartmoor (later part of Postbridge); the place-name is still in use, to designate a Hill, a House, and other naturally occurring and built locations. David L. Hammer, in The Game Is Afoot, identifies Nun’s Cross Farm, three-quarters of a mile south-west of the Fox Tor Mire, as Merripit House. Philip Weller agrees that this is the best candidate but points out that the building was a farm throughout its nineteenth-century existence.

  113 Frederick J. Jaeger and Rose M. Vogel, in The Hound from Hell, express shock that Dr. Watson is not made suspicious of Dr. Mortimer by this apparent betrayal of patients’ confidences.

  114 All of the major chronologists, with the exception of H. W. Bell, conclude that in light of Stapleton’s clear reference to Watson’s published writings, the case must have taken place after 1887 (see Appendix 5). But Peter A. Ruber (“On a Defence of H. W. Bell”) argues that Stapleton could be referring to newspaper accounts of Holmes’s activities: “During these years Holmes surely would have been without problems had it not been for the … publicity that spread his fame world-wide.” See also Peter Calamai’s “A Peek in Mrs. Hudson’s Scrapbook: Victorian Newspaper Accounts of Sherlock Holmes,” for a collection of hitherto unknown press clippings.

  115 Michael Harrison notes, in In the Footsteps of Sherlock Holmes, that Grimpen Mire is Grimspound Bog, “but here I would ask the reader to join with me in praising Watson’s sensitive ear. How much more sinister does ‘Grimpen Mire’ sound?” However, according to David L. Hammer, in The Game Is Afoot, Grimspound Bog was never a mire. Philip Weller points out that there is no such location as Grimspound Bog on Dartmoor and that in the small, marshy area on the eastern side of Grimspound one can only sink ankle deep, even though this area has never been artificially drained. Weller also notes that Fletcher Robinson recorded that the mire he visited with Arthur Conan Doyle in 1901 was well to the west of Grimspound, and Robinson’s description perfectly matches Fox Tor Mires. Of course, any such visit occurred well after the events of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Both Hammer and Weller propose Fox Tor Mires as a more likely candidate, and Anthony Howlett, a founder of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, calls this proposal “one of the few certain identifications.” Weller writes, to this editor, that Grimspound is pronounced, in the Dartmoor dialect, “Grimspun,” making the match even closer.

  116 Bitterns are a member of the subfamily Botaurinae, which is made up of small and medium-sized herons. According to The Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, these shy, elusive creatures, which seek their food in twilight, were made nearly extinct by 1886 due to habitat destruction and persecution—as Stapleton indicates presently. They are a wetland species and live in reedbeds. Their foghorn-like call has given rise over the centuries to numerous superstitions.

  Bittern.

  Bewick’s British Birds (1826)

  117 Lisa McGaw writes, in “Some Trifling Notes on Sherlock Holmes and Ornithology,” that Stapleton identifies the bird once he intuits that Watson was unfamiliar with it—and not before—and that, in any case, it is improbable that a bittern would live anywhere but in a marsh. Walter Shepherd, in On the Scent with Sherlock Holmes (1978), also points out that Watson’s description of the sound he heard on the moor—“a deep, muttered rumble, musical and yet menacing, rising and falling like the low, constant murmur of the sea”—is totally unlike the authorities’ descriptions of a bittern: James Fisher characterises it as a “penetrating b=wump,” and Peterson, Mountfort and Hollom (A Field Guide to the Birds of Britain and Europe) as “beginning with two or three grunts, followed by an audible intake of breath and concluding with a loud, penetrating woomp!”

  118 Baedeker’s Great Britain (1894) characterises the moors as abounding in menhirs, stone circles, and “other relics of the ancient Britons.” Michael Harrison notes a stone circle at Grimspound and comments, “Here our Neolithic, Hamitic-speaking ancestors built themselves what may almost be called a New Stone Age metropolis, not far from the curiously—and most suggestively—named Hound Tor.”

  But Philip Weller, a leading expert on the Dartmoor of Holmes’s time, in private correspondence with this editor, responds: “Harrison’s comments are, like Watson’s deductions about Mortimer’s walking stick, almost totally erroneous, in that [Harrison] seems to have uncritically accepted Stapleton’s reference to the huts being ‘Neolithic’ in the same way that Watson subsequently accepted Stapleton’s periodisation. The huts at Grimspound are not Neolithic, since they are (like almost all of the prehistoric huts on Dartmoor) from the Bronze Age. There is no New Stone Age metropolis near Hound Tor or anywhere else on Dartmoor. Grimspound is not the most prolific stone hut settlement on Dartmoor, in that it contains only 24 stone hut remains, whereas Ryder’s Rings, adjacent to the Houndianly-appropriate Black Tor and Shipley Tor, has more than 50 stone huts and storehouses. The inhabitants of these huts were certainly not Hamitic-speaking.”

  119 See Appendix 1 for a discussion of the Cyclopides.

  120 See Appendix 1 for a discussion of the orchid.

  121 Hippuris vulgaris, a plant resembling a horse’s tail. R. F. May points out that mare’s-tail is “a plant of ponds, lakes and slow-running water.” Instead, he proposes, Mrs. Stapleton likely misidentified the marsh horsetail (Equisetum palustre). May’s conclusions respecting the orchid are discussed in Appendix 1.

  122 A farmer who fattens livestock for market.

  123 In “Sherlockian Schools and Schoolmasters,” Frederick Bryan-Brown (himself a respected schoolmaster) calls this statement, “apart from its inherent hypocrisy, … nonsensical.” He questions how Stapleton could simultaneously feel uninterested and privileged, and suggests that, based on how the reader eventually comes to understand the character, Stapleton’s first thought is far truer than the second.

  124 A large order of insects comprising the butterflies, moths, and skippers. The British Broadcasting Company estimates that in the mid-nineteenth century, there were over 3,000 butterfly collectors in England, as compared with a few hundred today. Professional collectors brought exotic specimens from the jungles to the trophy rooms of the wealthy, and high demand supported elaborate public auctions in London. Lionel Walter Rothschild (1868–1937), 3rd baronet and 2nd Baron Rothschild, is probably the best-known amateur butterfly enthusiast of his time. He suffered from a stutter as a child and by seven yea
rs of age turned his attention to Lepidoptera and Coleoptera (beetles), captured on the grounds of the family estate in Hertfordshire and housed in a shed. By his twenty-first birthday he had gone a long way toward amassing what would become the largest such collection obtained by a single individual—2.25 million moths and butterflies (along with thousands of animals and birds). It was bequeathed to the British Museum at his death, and the Walter Rothschild Zoological Museum is now part of the Natural History Museum.

  CHAPTER

  VIII

  FIRST REPORT OF DR. WATSON

  FROM THIS POINT onwards I will follow the course of events by transcribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before me on the table. One page is missing,125 but otherwise they are exactly as written, and show my feelings and suspicions of the moment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon these tragic events, can possibly do.

  Baskerville Hall, Oct. 13th

  My dear Holmes:

  My previous letters and telegrams have kept you pretty well up-to-date as to all that has occurred in this most God-forsaken corner of the world. The longer one stays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one’s soul, its vastness, and also its grim charm. When you are once out upon its bosom you have left all traces of modern England behind you, but on the other hand you are conscious everywhere of the homes and the work of the prehistoric people. On all sides of you as you walk are the houses of these forgotten folk, with their graves and the huge monoliths which are supposed to have marked their temples. As you look at their grey stone huts against the scarred hillsides you leave your own age behind you, and if you were to see a skin-clad, hairy man crawl out from the low door, fitting a flint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow, you would feel that his presence there was more natural than your own. The strange thing is that they should have lived so thickly on what must always have been most unfruitful soil. I am no antiquarian, but I could imagine that they were some unwarlike and harried race who were forced to accept that which none other would occupy.

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

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

  One of these, concerning which I have said little, is the escaped convict upon the moor. There is strong reason now to believe that he has got right away, which is a considerable relief to the lonely householders of this district. A fortnight has passed since his flight, during which he has not been seen and nothing has been heard of him. It is surely inconceivable that he could have held out upon the moor during all that time. Of course, so far as his concealment goes there is no difficulty at all. Any one of these stone huts would give him a hiding-place. But there is nothing to eat unless he were to catch and slaughter one of the moor sheep. We think, therefore, that he has gone, and the outlying farmers sleep the better in consequence.

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

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

  He came over to call upon Baskerville on that first day, and the very next morning he took us both to show us the spot where the legend of the wicked Hugo is supposed to have had its origin. It was an excursion of some miles across the moor to a place which is so dismal that it might have suggested the story. We found a short valley between rugged tors which led to an open, grassy space flecked over with the white cotton grass.126 In the middle of it rose two great stones, worn and sharpened at the upper end, until they looked like the huge, corroding fangs of some monstrous beast. In every way it corresponded with the scene of the old tragedy. Sir Henry was much interested, and asked Stapleton more than once whether he did really believe in the possibility of the interference of the supernatural in the affairs of men. He spoke lightly, but it was evident that he was very much in earnest. Stapleton was guarded in his replies, but it was easy to see that he said less than he might, and that he would not express his whole opinion out of consideration for the feelings of the baronet. He told us of similar cases, where families had suffered from some evil influence, and he left us with the impression that he shared the popular view upon the matter.

  “He took us to show us the spot.”

  Sidney Paget, Strand Magazine, 1901

  On our way back we stayed for lunch at Merripit House, and it was there that Sir Henry made the acquaintance of Miss Stapleton. From the first moment that he saw her he appeared to be strongly attracted by her, and I am much mistaken if the feeling was not mutual. He referred to her again and again on our walk home, and since then hardly a day has passed that we have not seen something of the brother and sister. They dine here tonight, and there is some talk of our going to them next week. One would imagine that such a match would be very welcome to Stapleton, and yet I have more than once caught a look of the strongest disapprobation in his face when Sir Henry has been paying some attention to his sister. He is much attached to her, no doubt, and would lead a lonely life without her, but it would seem the height of selfishness, if he were to stand in the way of her making so brilliant a marriage. Yet I am certain that he does not wish their intimacy to ripen into love, and I have several times observed that he has taken pains to prevent them from being tête-à-tête. By the way, your instructions to me never to allow Sir Henry to go out alone will become very much more onerous if a love-affair were to be added to our other difficulties. My popularity would soon suffer if I were to carry out your orders to the letter.

  The other day—Thursday, to be more exact—Dr. Mortimer lunched with us. He has been excavating a barrow at Long Down, and has got a prehistoric skull which fills him with great joy. Never was there such a single-minded enthusiast as he! The Stapletons came in afterwards, and the good doctor took us all to the Yew Alley, at Sir Henry’s request, to show us exactly how everything occurred upon that fatal night. It is a long, dismal walk, the Yew Alley, between two high walls of clipped hedge, with a narrow band of grass upon either side. At the far end is an old, tumble-down summer-house. Half-way down is the moor-gate where the old gentleman left his cigar-ash. It is a white wooden gate with a latch. Beyond it lies the wide moor. I remembered your theory of the affair and tried to picture all that had occurred. As the old man stood there he saw something coming across the moor, something which terrified him so that he lost his wits, and ran and ran until he died of sheer horror and exhaustion. There was the long, gloomy tunnel down which he fled. And from w
hat? A sheep-dog of the moor? Or a spectral hound, black, silent, and monstrous? Was there a human agency in the matter? Did the pale, watchful Barrymore know more than he cared to say? It was all dim and vague, but always there is the dark shadow of crime behind it.

  “The Yew Alley.”

  Sidney Paget, Strand Magazine, 1901

  One other neighbour I have met since I wrote last. This is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who lives some four miles to the south of us. He is an elderly man, red-faced, white-haired, and choleric. His passion is for the British law, and he has spent a large fortune in litigation. He fights for the mere pleasure of fighting, and is equally ready to take up either side of a question, so that it is no wonder that he has found it a costly amusement. Sometimes he will shut up a right of way and defy the parish to make him open it. At others he will with his own hands tear down some other man’s gate and declare that a path has existed there from time immemorial, defying the owner to prosecute him for trespass. He is learned in old manorial127 and communal rights, and he applies his knowledge sometimes in favour of the villagers of Fernworthy128 and sometimes against them, so that he is periodically either carried in triumph down the village street or else burned in effigy, according to his latest exploit. He is said to have about seven law-suits upon his hands at present, which will probably swallow up the remainder of his fortune, and so draw his sting and leave him harmless for the future. Apart from the law he seems a kindly, good-natured person, and I only mention him because you were particular that I should send some description of the people who surround us. He is curiously employed at present, for, being an amateur astronomer, he has an excellent telescope,129 with which he lies upon the roof of his own house and sweeps the moor all day in the hope of catching a glimpse of the escaped convict. If he would confine his energies to this all would be well, but there are rumours that he intends to prosecute Dr. Mortimer for opening a grave without the consent of the next-of-kin, because he dug up the neolithic skull in the barrow on Long Down. He helps to keep our lives from being monotonous, and gives a little comic relief where it is badly needed.