The Hound of the Baskervilles

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  Chapter 13

  Fixing the Nets

  "We're at close grips at last," said Holmes as we walked togetheracross the moor. "What a nerve the fellow has! How he pulledhimself together in the face of what must have been a paralyzingshock when he found that the wrong man had fallen a victim to hisplot. I told you in London, Watson, and I tell you now again,that we have never had a foeman more worthy of our steel."

  "I am sorry that he has seen you."

  "And so was I at first. But there was no getting out of it."

  "What effect do you think it will have upon his plans now that heknows you are here?"

  "It may cause him to be more cautious, or it may drive him todesperate measures at once. Like most clever criminals, he may betoo confident in his own cleverness and imagine that he hascompletely deceived us."

  "Why should we not arrest him at once?"

  "My dear Watson, you were born to be a man of action. Yourinstinct is always to do something energetic. But supposing, forargument's sake, that we had him arrested to-night, what on earththe better off should we be for that? We could prove nothingagainst him. There's the devilish cunning of it! If he wereacting through a human agent we could get some evidence, but ifwe were to drag this great dog to the light of day it would nothelp us in putting a rope round the neck of its master."

  "Surely we have a case."

  "Not a shadow of one--only surmise and conjecture. We should belaughed out of court if we came with such a story and suchevidence."

  "There is Sir Charles's death."

  "Found dead without a mark upon him. You and I know that he diedof sheer fright, and we know also what frightened him; but howare we to get twelve stolid jurymen to know it? What signs arethere of a hound? Where are the marks of its fangs? Of course weknow that a hound does not bite a dead body and that Sir Charleswas dead before ever the brute overtook him. But we have to proveall this, and we are not in a position to do it."

  "Well, then, to-night?"

  "We are not much better off to-night. Again, there was no directconnection between the hound and the man's death. We never sawthe hound. We heard it; but we could not prove that it wasrunning upon this man's trail. There is a complete absence ofmotive. No, my dear fellow; we must reconcile ourselves to thefact that we have no case at present, and that it is worth ourwhile to run any risk in order to establish one."

  "And how do you propose to do so?"

  "I have great hopes of what Mrs. Laura Lyons may do for us whenthe position of affairs is made clear to her. And I have my ownplan as well. Sufficient for to-morrow is the evil thereof; but Ihope before the day is past to have the upper hand at last."

  I could draw nothing further from him, and he walked, lost inthought, as far as the Baskerville gates.

  "Are you coming up?"

  "Yes; I see no reason for further concealment. But one last word,Watson. Say nothing of the hound to Sir Henry. Let him think thatSelden's death was as Stapleton would have us believe. He willhave a better nerve for the ordeal which he will have to undergoto-morrow, when he is engaged, if I remember your report aright,to dine with these people."

  "And so am I."

  "Then you must excuse yourself and he must go alone. That will beeasily arranged. And now, if we are too late for dinner, I thinkthat we are both ready for our suppers."

  Sir Henry was more pleased than surprised to see Sherlock Holmes,for he had for some days been expecting that recent events wouldbring him down from London. He did raise his eyebrows, however,when he found that my friend had neither any luggage nor anyexplanations for its absence. Between us we soon supplied hiswants, and then over a belated supper we explained to the baronetas much of our experience as it seemed desirable that he shouldknow. But first I had the unpleasant duty of breaking the news toBarrymore and his wife. To him it may have been an unmitigatedrelief, but she wept bitterly in her apron. To all the world hewas the man of violence, half animal and half demon; but to herhe always remained the little wilful boy of her own girlhood, thechild who had clung to her hand. Evil indeed is the man who hasnot one woman to mourn him.

  "I've been moping in the house all day since Watson went off inthe morning," said the baronet. "I guess I should have somecredit, for I have kept my promise. If I hadn't sworn not to goabout alone I might have had a more lively evening, for I had amessage from Stapleton asking me over there."

  "I have no doubt that you would have had a more lively evening,"said Holmes drily. "By the way, I don't suppose you appreciatethat we have been mourning over you as having broken your neck?"

  Sir Henry opened his eyes. "How was that?"

  "This poor wretch was dressed in your clothes. I fear yourservant who gave them to him may get into trouble with thepolice."

  "That is unlikely. There was no mark on any of them, as far as Iknow."

  "That's lucky for him--in fact, it's lucky for all of you, sinceyou are all on the wrong side of the law in this matter. I am notsure that as a conscientious detective my first duty is not toarrest the whole household. Watson's reports are mostincriminating documents."

  "But how about the case?" asked the baronet. "Have you madeanything out of the tangle? I don't know that Watson and I aremuch the wiser since we came down."

  "I think that I shall be in a position to make the situationrather more clear to you before long. It has been an exceedinglydifficult and most complicated business. There are several pointsupon which we still want light--but it is coming all the same."

  "We've had one experience, as Watson has no doubt told you. Weheard the hound on the moor, so I can swear that it is not allempty superstition. I had something to do with dogs when I wasout West, and I know one when I hear one. If you can muzzle thatone and put him on a chain I'll be ready to swear you are thegreatest detective of all time."

  "I think I will muzzle him and chain him all right if you willgive me your help."

  "Whatever you tell me to do I will do."

  "Very good; and I will ask you also to do it blindly, withoutalways asking the reason."

  "Just as you like."

  "If you will do this I think the chances are that our littleproblem will soon be solved. I have no doubt----"

  He stopped suddenly and stared fixedly up over my head into theair. The lamp beat upon his face, and so intent was it and sostill that it might have been that of a clear-cut classicalstatue, a personification of alertness and expectation.

  "What is it?" we both cried.

  I could see as he looked down that he was repressing someinternal emotion. His features were still composed, but his eyesshone with amused exultation.

  "Excuse the admiration of a connoisseur," said he as he waved hishand towards the line of portraits which covered the oppositewall. "Watson won't allow that I know anything of art, but thatis mere jealousy, because our views upon the subject differ. Now,these are a really very fine series of portraits."

  "Well, I'm glad to hear you say so," said Sir Henry, glancingwith some surprise at my friend. "I don't pretend to know muchabout these things, and I'd be a better judge of a horse or asteer than of a picture. I didn't know that you found time forsuch things."

  "I know what is good when I see it, and I see it now. That's aKneller, I'll swear, that lady in the blue silk over yonder, andthe stout gentleman with the wig ought to be a Reynolds. They areall family portraits, I presume?"

  "Every one."

  "Do you know the names?"

  "Barrymore has been coaching me in them, and I think I can say mylessons fairly well."

  "Who is the gentleman with the telescope?"

  "That is Rear-Admiral Baskerville, who served under Rodney in theWest Indies. The man with the blue coat and the roll of paper isSir William Baskerville, who was Chairman of Committees of theHouse of Commons under Pitt."

  "And this Cavalier opposite to me--the one with the black velvetand the lace?"

  "Ah, you have a right to know about him. That is the cause of allthe mischief, the wicked Hugo, who start
ed the Hound of theBaskervilles. We're not likely to forget him."

  I gazed with interest and some surprise upon the portrait.

  "Dear me!" said Holmes, "he seems a quiet, meek-mannered manenough, but I dare say that there was a lurking devil in hiseyes. I had pictured him as a more robust and ruffianly person."

  "There's no doubt about the authenticity, for the name and thedate, 1647, are on the back of the canvas."

  Holmes said little more, but the picture of the old roystererseemed to have a fascination for him, and his eyes werecontinually fixed upon it during supper. It was not until later,when Sir Henry had gone to his room, that I was able to followthe trend of his thoughts. He led me back into thebanqueting-hall, his bedroom candle in his hand, and he held itup against the time-stained portrait on the wall.

  "Do you see anything there?"

  I looked at the broad plumed hat, the curling love-locks, thewhite lace collar, and the straight, severe face which was framedbetween them. It was not a brutal countenance, but it was prim,hard, and stern, with a firm-set, thin-lipped mouth, and a coldlyintolerant eye.

  "Is it like anyone you know?"

  "There is something of Sir Henry about the jaw."

  "Just a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an instant!" He stood upona chair, and, holding up the light in his left hand, he curvedhis right arm over the broad hat and round the long ringlets.

  "Good heavens!" I cried, in amazement.

  The face of Stapleton had sprung out of the canvas.

  "Ha, you see it now. My eyes have been trained to examine facesand not their trimmings. It is the first quality of a criminalinvestigator that he should see through a disguise."

  "But this is marvellous. It might be his portrait."

  "Yes, it is an interesting instance of a throwback, which appearsto be both physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits isenough to convert a man to the doctrine of reincarnation. Thefellow is a Baskerville--that is evident."

  "With designs upon the succession."

  "Exactly. This chance of the picture has supplied us with one ofour most obvious missing links. We have him, Watson, we have him,and I dare swear that before to-morrow night he will befluttering in our net as helpless as one of his own butterflies.A pin, a cork, and a card, and we add him to the Baker Streetcollection!" He burst into one of his rare fits of laughter as heturned away from the picture. I have not heard him laugh often,and it has always boded ill to somebody.

  I was up betimes in the morning, but Holmes was afoot earlierstill, for I saw him as I dressed, coming up the drive.

  "Yes, we should have a full day to-day," he remarked, and herubbed his hands with the joy of action. "The nets are all inplace, and the drag is about to begin. We'll know before the dayis out whether we have caught our big, lean-jawed pike, orwhether he has got through the meshes."

  "Have you been on the moor already?"

  "I have sent a report from Grimpen to Princetown as to the deathof Selden. I think I can promise that none of you will betroubled in the matter. And I have also communicated with myfaithful Cartwright, who would certainly have pined away at thedoor of my hut, as a dog does at his master's grave, if I had notset his mind at rest about my safety."

  "What is the next move?"

  "To see Sir Henry. Ah, here he is!"

  "Good morning, Holmes," said the baronet. "You look like ageneral who is planning a battle with his chief of the staff."

  "That is the exact situation. Watson was asking for orders."

  "And so do I."

  "Very good. You are engaged, as I understand, to dine with ourfriends the Stapletons to-night."

  "I hope that you will come also. They are very hospitable people,and I am sure that they would be very glad to see you."

  "I fear that Watson and I must go to London."

  "To London?"

  "Yes, I think that we should be more useful there at the presentjuncture."

  The baronet's face perceptibly lengthened.

  "I hoped that you were going to see me through this business. TheHall and the moor are not very pleasant places when one isalone."

  "My dear fellow, you must trust me implicitly and do exactly whatI tell you. You can tell your friends that we should have beenhappy to have come with you, but that urgent business required usto be in town. We hope very soon to return to Devonshire. Willyou remember to give them that message?"

  "If you insist upon it."

  "There is no alternative, I assure you."

  I saw by the baronet's clouded brow that he was deeply hurt bywhat he regarded as our desertion.

  "When do you desire to go?" he asked coldly.

  "Immediately after breakfast. We will drive in to Coombe Tracey,but Watson will leave his things as a pledge that he will comeback to you. Watson, you will send a note to Stapleton to tellhim that you regret that you cannot come."

  "I have a good mind to go to London with you," said the baronet."Why should I stay here alone?"

  "Because it is your post of duty. Because you gave me your wordthat you would do as you were told, and I tell you to stay."

  "All right, then, I'll stay."

  "One more direction! I wish you to drive to Merripit House. Sendback your trap, however, and let them know that you intend towalk home."

  "To walk across the moor?"

  "Yes."

  "But that is the very thing which you have so often cautioned menot to do."

  "This time you may do it with safety. If I had not everyconfidence in your nerve and courage I would not suggest it, butit is essential that you should do it."

  "Then I will do it."

  "And as you value your life do not go across the moor in anydirection save along the straight path which leads from MerripitHouse to the Grimpen Road, and is your natural way home."

  "I will do just what you say."

  "Very good. I should be glad to get away as soon after breakfastas possible, so as to reach London in the afternoon."

  I was much astounded by this programme, though I remembered thatHolmes had said to Stapleton on the night before that his visitwould terminate next day. It had not crossed my mind, however,that he would wish me to go with him, nor could I understand howwe could both be absent at a moment which he himself declared tobe critical. There was nothing for it, however, but implicitobedience; so we bade good-bye to our rueful friend, and a coupleof hours afterwards we were at the station of Coombe Tracey andhad dispatched the trap upon its return journey. A small boy waswaiting upon the platform.

  "Any orders, sir?"

  "You will take this train to town, Cartwright. The moment youarrive you will send a wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, in my name,to say that if he finds the pocket-book which I have dropped heis to send it by registered post to Baker Street."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And ask at the station office if there is a message for me."

  The boy returned with a telegram, which Holmes handed to me. Itran: "Wire received. Coming down with unsigned warrant. Arrivefive-forty.--LESTRADE."

  "That is in answer to mine of this morning. He is the best of theprofessionals, I think, and we may need his assistance. Now,Watson, I think that we cannot employ our time better than bycalling upon your acquaintance, Mrs. Laura Lyons."

  His plan of campaign was beginning to be evident. He would usethe baronet in order to convince the Stapletons that we werereally gone, while we should actually return at the instant whenwe were likely to be needed. That telegram from London, ifmentioned by Sir Henry to the Stapletons, must remove the lastsuspicions from their minds. Already I seemed to see our netsdrawing closer around that lean-jawed pike.

  Mrs. Laura Lyons was in her office, and Sherlock Holmes openedhis interview with a frankness and directness which considerablyamazed her.

  "I am investigating the circumstances which attended the death ofthe late Sir Charles Baskerville," said he. "My friend here, Dr.Watson, has informed me of what you have communicated, and alsoof what you have withheld in connecti
on with that matter."

  "What have I withheld?" she asked defiantly.

  "You have confessed that you asked Sir Charles to be at the gateat ten o'clock. We know that that was the place and hour of hisdeath. You have withheld what the connection is between theseevents."

  "There is no connection."

  "In that case the coincidence must indeed be an extraordinaryone. But I think that we shall succeed in establishing aconnection after all. I wish to be perfectly frank with you, Mrs.Lyons. We regard this case as one of murder, and the evidence mayimplicate not only your friend Mr. Stapleton, but his wife aswell."

  The lady sprang from her chair.

  "His wife!" she cried.

  "The fact is no longer a secret. The person who has passed forhis sister is really his wife."

  Mrs. Lyons had resumed her seat. Her hands were grasping the armsof her chair, and I saw that the pink nails had turned white withthe pressure of her grip.

  "His wife!" she said again. "His wife! He is not a married man."

  Sherlock Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

  "Prove it to me! Prove it to me! And if you can do so --!" Thefierce flash of her eyes said more than any words.

  "I have come prepared to do so," said Holmes, drawing severalpapers from his pocket. "Here is a photograph of the couple takenin York four years ago. It is indorsed 'Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur,'but you will have no difficulty in recognizing him, and her also,if you know her by sight. Here are three written descriptions bytrustworthy witnesses of Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur, who at that timekept St. Oliver's private school. Read them and see if you candoubt the identity of these people."

  She glanced at them, and then looked up at us with the set, rigidface of a desperate woman.

  "Mr. Holmes," she said, "this man had offered me marriage oncondition that I could get a divorce from my husband. He has liedto me, the villain, in every conceivable way. Not one word oftruth has he ever told me. And why--why? I imagined that all wasfor my own sake. But now I see that I was never anything but atool in his hands. Why should I preserve faith with him who neverkept any with me? Why should I try to shield him from theconsequences of his own wicked acts? Ask me what you like, andthere is nothing which I shall hold back. One thing I swear toyou, and that is that when I wrote the letter I never dreamed ofany harm to the old gentleman, who had been my kindest friend."

  "I entirely believe you, madam," said Sherlock Holmes. "Therecital of these events must be very painful to you, and perhapsit will make it easier if I tell you what occurred, and you cancheck me if I make any material mistake. The sending of thisletter was suggested to you by Stapleton?"

  "He dictated it."

  "I presume that the reason he gave was that you would receivehelp from Sir Charles for the legal expenses connected with yourdivorce?"

  "Exactly."

  "And then after you had sent the letter he dissuaded you fromkeeping the appointment?"

  "He told me that it would hurt his self-respect that any otherman should find the money for such an object, and that though hewas a poor man himself he would devote his last penny to removingthe obstacles which divided us."

  "He appears to be a very consistent character. And then you heardnothing until you read the reports of the death in the paper?"

  "No."

  "And he made you swear to say nothing about your appointment withSir Charles?"

  "He did. He said that the death was a very mysterious one, andthat I should certainly be suspected if the facts came out. Hefrightened me into remaining silent."

  "Quite so. But you had your suspicions?"

  She hesitated and looked down.

  "I knew him," she said. "But if he had kept faith with me Ishould always have done so with him."

  "I think that on the whole you have had a fortunate escape," saidSherlock Holmes. "You have had him in your power and he knew it,and yet you are alive. You have been walking for some months verynear to the edge of a precipice. We must wish you good-morningnow, Mrs. Lyons, and it is probable that you will very shortlyhear from us again."

  "Our case becomes rounded off, and difficulty after difficultythins away in front of us," said Holmes as we stood waiting forthe arrival of the express from town. "I shall soon be in theposition of being able to put into a single connected narrativeone of the most singular and sensational crimes of modern times.Students of criminology will remember the analogous incidents inGodno, in Little Russia, in the year '66, and of course there arethe Anderson murders in North Carolina, but this case possessessome features which are entirely its own. Even now we have noclear case against this very wily man. But I shall be very muchsurprised if it is not clear enough before we go to bed thisnight."

  The London express came roaring into the station, and a small,wiry bulldog of a man had sprung from a first-class carriage. Weall three shook hands, and I saw at once from the reverential wayin which Lestrade gazed at my companion that he had learned agood deal since the days when they had first worked together. Icould well remember the scorn which the theories of the reasonerused then to excite in the practical man.

  "Anything good?" he asked.

  "The biggest thing for years," said Holmes. "We have two hoursbefore we need think of starting. I think we might employ it ingetting some dinner and then, Lestrade, we will take the Londonfog out of your throat by giving you a breath of the pure nightair of Dartmoor. Never been there? Ah, well, I don't suppose youwill forget your first visit."