The Hound of the Baskervilles

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  Chapter 8

  First Report of Dr. Watson

  From this point onward I will follow the course of events bytranscribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which liebefore me on the table. One page is missing, but otherwise theyare exactly as written and show my feelings and suspicions of themoment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon thesetragic events, can possibly do.

  BASKERVILLE HALL, October 13th.

  MY DEAR HOLMES,--My previous letters and telegrams have kept youpretty well up to date as to all that has occurred in this mostGod-forsaken corner of the world. The longer one stays here themore does the spirit of the moor sink into one's soul, itsvastness, and also its grim charm. When you are once out upon itsbosom you have left all traces of modern England behind you, buton the other hand you are conscious everywhere of the homes andthe work of the prehistoric people. On all sides of you as youwalk are the houses of these forgotten folk, with their gravesand the huge monoliths which are supposed to have marked theirtemples. As you look at their gray stone huts against the scarredhill-sides you leave your own age behind you, and if you were tosee a skin-clad, hairy man crawl out from the low door fitting aflint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow, you would feelthat his presence there was more natural than your own. Thestrange thing is that they should have lived so thickly on whatmust always have been most unfruitful soil. I am no antiquarian,but I could imagine that they were some unwarlike and harriedrace who were forced to accept that which none other wouldoccupy.

  All this, however, is foreign to the mission on which you sent meand will probably be very uninteresting to your severelypractical mind. I can still remember your complete indifferenceas to whether the sun moved round the earth or the earth roundthe sun. Let me, therefore, return to the facts concerning SirHenry Baskerville.

  If you have not had any report within the last few days it isbecause up to to-day there was nothing of importance to relate.Then a very surprising circumstance occurred, which I shall tellyou in due course. But, first of all, I must keep you in touchwith some of the other factors in the situation.

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

  We are four able-bodied men in this household, so that we couldtake good care of ourselves, but I confess that I have had uneasymoments when I have thought of the Stapletons. They live milesfrom any help. There are one maid, an old manservant, the sister,and the brother, the latter not a very strong man. They would behelpless in the hands of a desperate fellow like this NottingHill criminal, if he could once effect an entrance. Both SirHenry and I were concerned at their situation, and it wassuggested that Perkins the groom should go over to sleep there,but Stapleton would not hear of it.

  The fact is that our friend, the baronet, begins to display aconsiderable interest in our fair neighbour. It is not to bewondered at, for time hangs heavily in this lonely spot to anactive man like him, and she is a very fascinating and beautifulwoman. There is something tropical and exotic about her whichforms a singular contrast to her cool and unemotional brother.Yet he also gives the idea of hidden fires. He has certainly avery marked influence over her, for I have seen her continuallyglance at him as she talked as if seeking approbation for whatshe said. I trust that he is kind to her. There is a dry glitterin his eyes, and a firm set of his thin lips, which goes with apositive and possibly a harsh nature. You would find him aninteresting study.

  He came over to call upon Baskerville on that first day, and thevery next morning he took us both to show us the spot where thelegend of the wicked Hugo is supposed to have had its origin. Itwas an excursion of some miles across the moor to a place whichis so dismal that it might have suggested the story. We found ashort valley between rugged tors which led to an open, grassyspace flecked over with the white cotton grass. In the middle ofit rose two great stones, worn and sharpened at the upper end,until they looked like the huge corroding fangs of some monstrousbeast. In every way it corresponded with the scene of the oldtragedy. Sir Henry was much interested and asked Stapleton morethan once whether he did really believe in the possibility of theinterference of the supernatural in the affairs of men. He spokelightly, but it was evident that he was very much in earnest.Stapleton was guarded in his replies, but it was easy to see thathe said less than he might, and that he would not express hiswhole opinion out of consideration for the feelings of thebaronet. He told us of similar cases, where families had sufferedfrom some evil influence, and he left us with the impression thathe shared the popular view upon the matter.

  On our way back we stayed for lunch at Merripit House, and it wasthere that Sir Henry made the acquaintance of Miss Stapleton.From the first moment that he saw her he appeared to be stronglyattracted by her, and I am much mistaken if the feeling was notmutual. He referred to her again and again on our walk home, andsince then hardly a day has passed that we have not seensomething of the brother and sister. They dine here to-night, andthere is some talk of our going to them next week. One wouldimagine that such a match would be very welcome to Stapleton, andyet I have more than once caught a look of the strongestdisapprobation in his face when Sir Henry has been paying someattention to his sister. He is much attached to her, no doubt,and would lead a lonely life without her, but it would seem theheight of selfishness if he were to stand in the way of hermaking so brilliant a marriage. Yet I am certain that he does notwish their intimacy to ripen into love, and I have several timesobserved that he has taken pains to prevent them from being_tete-a-tete_. By the way, your instructions to me never to allowSir Henry to go out alone will become very much more onerous if alove affair were to be added to our other difficulties. Mypopularity would soon suffer if I were to carry out your ordersto the letter.

  The other day--Thursday, to be more exact--Dr. Mortimer lunchedwith us. He has been excavating a barrow at Long Down, and hasgot a prehistoric skull which fills him with great joy. Never wasthere such a single-minded enthusiast as he! The Stapletons camein afterwards, and the good doctor took us all to the Yew Alley,at Sir Henry's request, to show us exactly how everythingoccurred upon that fatal night. It is a long, dismal walk, theYew Alley, between two high walls of clipped hedge, with a narrowband of grass upon either side. At the far end is an oldtumble-down summer-house. Half-way down is the moor-gate, wherethe old gentleman left his cigar-ash. It is a white wooden gatewith a latch. Beyond it lies the wide moor. I remembered yourtheory of the affair and tried to picture all that had occurred.As the old man stood there he saw something coming across themoor, something which terrified him so that he lost his wits, andran and ran until he died of sheer horror and exhaustion. Therewas the long, gloomy tunnel down which he fled. And from what? Asheep-dog of the moor? Or a spectral hound, black, silent, andmonstrous? Was there a human agency in the matter? Did the pale,watchful Barrymore know more than he cared to say? It was all dimand vague, but always there is the dark shadow of crime behindit.

  One other neighbour I have met since I wrote last. This is Mr.Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who lives some four miles to the southof us. He is an elderly man, red-faced, white-haired, andcholeric. His passion is for the British law, and he has spent alarge fortune in litigation. He fights for the mere pleasure offighting and is equally ready to take up either side of aquestion, so that it is no wonder that he has found it a costlyamusement. Sometimes he will shut up a right of way and defy theparish to make him open it. At
others he will with his own handstear down some other man's gate and declare that a path hasexisted there from time immemorial, defying the owner toprosecute him for trespass. He is learned in old manorial andcommunal rights, and he applies his knowledge sometimes in favourof the villagers of Fernworthy and sometimes against them, sothat he is periodically either carried in triumph down thevillage street or else burned in effigy, according to his latestexploit. He is said to have about seven lawsuits upon his handsat present, which will probably swallow up the remainder of hisfortune and so draw his sting and leave him harmless for thefuture. Apart from the law he seems a kindly, good-naturedperson, and I only mention him because you were particular that Ishould send some description of the people who surround us. He iscuriously employed at present, for, being an amateur astronomer,he has an excellent telescope, with which he lies upon the roofof his own house and sweeps the moor all day in the hope ofcatching a glimpse of the escaped convict. If he would confinehis energies to this all would be well, but there are rumoursthat he intends to prosecute Dr. Mortimer for opening a gravewithout the consent of the next-of-kin, because he dug up theNeolithic skull in the barrow on Long Down. He helps to keep ourlives from being monotonous and gives a little comic relief whereit is badly needed.

  And now, having brought you up to date in the escaped convict,the Stapletons, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland, of Lafter Hall, letme end on that which is most important and tell you more aboutthe Barrymores, and especially about the surprising developmentof last night.

  First of all about the test telegram, which you sent from Londonin order to make sure that Barrymore was really here. I havealready explained that the testimony of the postmaster shows thatthe test was worthless and that we have no proof one way or theother. I told Sir Henry how the matter stood, and he at once, inhis downright fashion, had Barrymore up and asked him whether hehad received the telegram himself. Barrymore said that he had.

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

  Barrymore looked surprised, and considered for a little time.

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

  "Did you answer it yourself?"

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

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

  "I could not quite understand the object of your questions thismorning, Sir Henry," said he. "I trust that they do not mean thatI have done anything to forfeit your confidence?"

  Sir Henry had to assure him that it was not so and pacify him bygiving him a considerable part of his old wardrobe, the Londonoutfit having now all arrived.

  Mrs. Barrymore is of interest to me. She is a heavy, solidperson, very limited, intensely respectable, and inclined to bepuritanical. You could hardly conceive a less emotional subject.Yet I have told you how, on the first night here, I heard hersobbing bitterly, and since then I have more than once observedtraces of tears upon her face. Some deep sorrow gnaws ever at herheart. Sometimes I wonder if she has a guilty memory which hauntsher, and sometimes I suspect Barrymore of being a domestictyrant. I have always felt that there was something singular andquestionable in this man's character, but the adventure of lastnight brings all my suspicions to a head.

  And yet it may seem a small matter in itself. You are aware thatI am not a very sound sleeper, and since I have been on guard inthis house my slumbers have been lighter than ever. Last night,about two in the morning, I was aroused by a stealthy steppassing my room. I rose, opened my door, and peeped out. A longblack shadow was trailing down the corridor. It was thrown by aman who walked softly down the passage with a candle held in hishand. He was in shirt and trousers, with no covering to his feet.I could merely see the outline, but his height told me that itwas Barrymore. He walked very slowly and circumspectly, and therewas something indescribably guilty and furtive in his wholeappearance.

  I have told you that the corridor is broken by the balcony whichruns round the hall, but that it is resumed upon the fartherside. I waited until he had passed out of sight and then Ifollowed him. When I came round the balcony he had reached theend of the farther corridor, and I could see from the glimmer oflight through an open door that he had entered one of the rooms.Now, all these rooms are unfurnished and unoccupied, so that hisexpedition became more mysterious than ever. The light shonesteadily as if he were standing motionless. I crept down thepassage as noiselessly as I could and peeped round the corner ofthe door.

  Barrymore was crouching at the window with the candle heldagainst the glass. His profile was half turned towards me, andhis face seemed to be rigid with expectation as he stared outinto the blackness of the moor. For some minutes he stoodwatching intently. Then he gave a deep groan and with animpatient gesture he put out the light. Instantly I made my wayback to my room, and very shortly came the stealthy steps passingonce more upon their return journey. Long afterwards when I hadfallen into a light sleep I heard a key turn somewhere in a lock,but I could not tell whence the sound came. What it all means Icannot guess, but there is some secret business going on in thishouse of gloom which sooner or later we shall get to the bottomof. I do not trouble you with my theories, for you asked me tofurnish you only with facts. I have had a long talk with SirHenry this morning, and we have made a plan of campaign foundedupon my observations of last night. I will not speak about itjust now, but it should make my next report interesting reading.