May 27, 2025 • 30 mins
In the eerie Baskerville Hall, a baronet is found dead under mysterious circumstances. Could his death be the consequence of a centuries-old family curse, believed to be carried out by a supernatural hound? Join the iconic detective duo, Holmes and Watson, as they delve into the enigmatic death of Sir Charles Baskerville, racing against time to protect the new baronet from a similar ominous fate.
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Chapter eleven of The Hound of the Baskervilles. This is
a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
Read by Richard Riman, the Man on the Tour. The
(00:23):
extract from my private diary which forms the last chapter
has brought my narrative up to the eighteenth of October,
a time when these strange events began to move swiftly
towards their terrible conclusion. The incidents of the next few
days are indelibly graven upon my recollection, and I can
tell them without reference to the notes made at the
(00:46):
time I start them, from the day which succeeded that
upon which I had established two facts of great importance,
the one that Missus Laura Lyons of Coombe Tracy had
written to Sir Charles Baskerville and made an appointment with
him at the very place and hour that he met
his death. The other that the lurking man upon the
(01:07):
moor was to be found among the stone huts upon
the hillside. With these two facts in my possession, I
felt that either my intelligence or my courage must be deficient.
If I could not throw some further light upon these
dark places. I had no opportunity to tell the Baronet
what I had learned about Missus Lyons upon the evening before,
(01:29):
for doctor Mortimer remained with him at cards until it
was very late at breakfast. However, I informed him about
my discovery and asked him whether he would care to
accompany me to Coombe Tracy. At first he was very
eager to come, but on second thoughts, it seemed to
both of us that if I went alone, the results
might be better. The more formal we made the visit,
(01:51):
the less information we might obtain. I left Sir Henry behind, therefore,
not without some prickings of conscience, and drove off upon
my new quest. When I reached comb Tracy, I told
Perkins to put up the horses, and I made inquiries
for the lady whom I had come to interrogate. I
(02:12):
had no difficulty in finding her rooms, which were central
and well appointed. A maid showed me in without ceremony,
and as I entered the sitting room, a lady who
was sitting before a Remington typewriter sprang up with a
pleasant smile of welcome. Her face fell However, when she
saw that I was a stranger, and she sat down
(02:34):
again and asked me the object of my visit. The
first impression left by missus Lyons was one of extreme beauty.
Her eyes and hair were of the same rich hazel color,
and her cheeks, though considerably freckled, were flushed with the
exquisite bloom of the brunette, the dainty pink which lurks
(02:55):
at the heart of the sulfur rose. Admiration was I
repeat the first impression, but the second was criticism. There
was something subtly wrong with the face, some coarseness of expression,
some hardness perhaps of eye, some looseness of lip, which
(03:16):
marred its perfect beauty. But these, of course are afterthoughts.
At the moment, I was simply conscious that I was
in the presence of a very handsome woman, and that
she was asking me the reasons for my visit. I
had not quite understood until that instant how delicate my
mission was. I have the pleasure, said I of knowing
(03:39):
your father. It was a clumsy introduction, and the lady
made me feel it. There is nothing in common between
my father and me, she said, I owe him nothing,
and his friends are not mine. If it were not
for the late Sir Charles Baskerville and some other kind hearts,
(04:00):
I might have starved for all that my father cared.
It was about the late Sir Charles Boskerville that I
have come here to see you. The freckles started out
on the lady's face. What can I tell you about him?
She asked, and her fingers played nervously over the stops
of her typewriter. You knew him, did you not. I
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have already said that I owe a great deal to
his kindness. If I am able to support myself, it
is largely due to the interest which he took in
my unhappy situation. Did you correspond with him? The lady
looked quickly up with an angry gleam in her hazel eyes.
What is the object of these questions, she asked sharply.
(04:47):
The object is to avoid a public scandal. It is
better that I should ask them here than that the
matter should pass outside our control. She was silent, and
her face was still very At last, she looked up
with something reckless and defiant in her manner. Well, I'll answer,
(05:08):
she said, What are your questions? Did you correspond with
sir Charles. I certainly wrote to him once or twice
to acknowledge his delicacy and generosity. Have you the dates
of those letters? No? Have you ever met him? Yes,
once or twice when he came into comb tracy. He
(05:30):
was a very retiring man, and he preferred to do
good by stealth. But if you saw him so seldom
and wrote so seldom, how did he know enough about
your affairs to be able to help you as you
say that he has done? She met my difficulty with
the utmost readiness. There were several gentlemen who knew my
(05:51):
sad history and united to help me. One was mister Stapleton,
a neighbor and intimate friend of Sir Charles's. He was
exceedingly kind, and it was through him that Sir Charles
learned about my affairs. I knew already that Sir Charles
Baskerville had made Stapleton his almoner upon several occasions. So
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the lady's statement bore the impress of truth upon it.
Did you ever write to Sir Charles asking him to
meet you? I continued, Missus Lyons, flushed with anger. Again, Really, sir,
this is a very extraordinary question. I am sorry, madam,
but I must repeat it. Then I answered, certainly not not.
(06:37):
On the very day of Sir Charles's death, the flush
had faded in an instant, and a deathly face was
before me. Her dry lips could not speak the no,
which I saw rather than heard. Surely your memory deceives,
you said I. I could even quote a passage of
(06:57):
your letter. It ran. Please please, as you are a gentleman,
burn this letter and be at the gate by ten o'clock.
I thought that she had fainted, but she recovered herself
by a supreme effort. Is there no such thing as
a gentleman? She gasped, You do, Sir Charles an injustice.
(07:23):
He did burn the letter, but sometimes a letter may
be legible even when burned. You acknowledge now that you
wrote it? Yes, I did write it, she cried, pouring
out her soul in a torrent of words. I did
write it. Why should I deny it? I have no
reason to be ashamed of it. I wished him to
(07:43):
help me. I believe that if I had an interview,
I could gain his help. So I asked him to
meet me. But why at such an hour? Because I
had only just learned that he was going to London
next day and might be away for months. There were
reasons why I could not get there earlier. But why
a rendezvous in the garden instead of a visit to
(08:05):
the house. Do you think a woman could go alone
at that hour to a bachelor's house. Well, what happened
when you did get there? I never went, Missus Lions, No,
I swear to you on all I hold sacred. I
never went. Something intervened to prevent my going. What was that?
(08:30):
That is a private matter. I cannot tell it. You
acknowledged then that you made an appointment with Sir Charles
at the very hour and place at which he met
his death, But you deny that you kept the appointment.
That is the truth. Again and again I cross questioned her,
but I could never get past that point, Missus Lyons,
(08:54):
said I as I rose from this long and inconclusive interview.
You are taking a very great responsibility and putting yourself
in a very false position by not making an absolutely
clean breast of all that you know. If I have
to call in the aid of the police, you will
find how seriously you are compromised. If your position is innocent,
(09:19):
why did you in the first instance, deny having written
to Sir Charles upon that date, because I feared that
some false conclusion might be drawn from it, and that
I might find myself involved in a scandal. And why
were you so pressing that Sir Charles should destroy your letter?
If you have read the letter, you will know I
(09:41):
did not say that I had read all the letter.
You quoted some of it. I quoted the PostScript. The
letter had, as I said, been burned, and it was
not all legible. I asked you once again why it
was that you were so pressing that Sir Charles should
destroy this letter, which he received on the day of
(10:02):
his death. The matter is a very private one. The
more reason why you should avoid a public investigation. I
will tell you. Then, if you have heard anything of
my unhappy history, you will know that I made a
rash marriage and had reason to regret it. I have
(10:23):
heard so much. My life has been one incessant persecution
from a husband whom I abhor. The law is upon
his side, and every day I am faced by the
possibility that he may force me to live with him.
At the time that I wrote this letter to Sir Charles,
I had learned that there was a prospect of my
regaining my freedom if certain expenses could be met. It
(10:47):
meant everything to me, peace of mind, happiness, self respect, everything.
I knew Sir Charles's generosity, and I thought that if
he heard the story from my own lips, he would
help me. Then how is it that you did not
go because I received help in the interval from another source.
(11:10):
Why then did you not write to Sir Charles and
explain this so I should have done had I not
seen his death in the papers next morning. The woman's
story hung coherently together, and all my questions were unable
to shake it. I could only check it by finding
if she had indeed instituted divorce proceedings against her husband
(11:33):
at or about the time of the tragedy. It was
unlikely that she would dare to say that she had
not been to Baskerville Hall. If she really had been,
for a trap would be necessary to take her there,
and would not have returned to Coombe Tracy until the
early hours of the morning. Such an excursion could not
be kept secret. The probability was therefore that she was
(11:56):
telling the truth, or at least a part of the truth.
I came away baffled and disheartened. Once again, I had
reached that dead wall which seemed to be built across
every path by which I tried to get at the
object of my mission. And yet the more I thought
of the lady's face and of her manner, the more
(12:17):
I felt that something was being held back from me.
Why should she turn so pale, Why should she fight
against every admission until it was false from her? Why
should she have been so reticent at the time of
the tragedy. Surely the explanation of all this could not
be as innocent as she would have me believe. For
(12:39):
the moment, I could proceed no farther in that direction,
but must turn back to that other clue, which was
to be sought for among the stone huts upon the moor.
And that was a most vague direction. I realized it
as I drove back, and noted how hill after hill
(12:59):
showed traces of the ancient people. Barrymore's only indication had
been that the stranger lived in one of these abandoned huts,
and many hundreds of them are scattered throughout the length
and breadth of the moor. But I had my own
experience for a guide, since it had shown me the
man himself standing upon the summit of the black tor.
(13:23):
That then should be the center of my search. From
there I should explore every hut upon the moor until
I lighted upon the right one. If this man were
inside it, I should find out from his own lips
at the point of my revolver, if necessary, who he
was and why he had dogged us so long. He
(13:44):
might slip away from us in the crowd of Regent Street,
but it would puzzle him to do so upon the
lonely moor. On the other hand, if I should find
the hut and its tenant should not be within it,
I must remain there, however long the vigil until he
returned Holmes had missed him in London. It would indeed
(14:08):
be a triumph for me if I could run him
to Earth where my master had failed. Luck had been
against us again and again in this inquiry, but now
at last it came to my aid, and the messenger
of good fortune was none other than mister Franklin, who
was standing gray, whiskered and red faced outside the gate
(14:31):
of his garden, which opened on to the high road
along which I traveled. Good day, Doctor Watson cried he
with unwonted good humor. You must really give your horses
a rest and come in to have a glass of
wine and congratulate me. My feelings towards him were very
(14:51):
far from being friendly, after what I had heard of
his treatment of his daughter. But I was anxious to
send Perkins and the wagon at home, and the opportunity
was a good one. I alighted and set a message
to Sir Henry that I should walk over in time
for dinner. Then I followed Franklin into his dining room.
(15:13):
It is a great day for me, sir, one of
the red letter days of my life, he cried, with
many chuckles. I have brought off a double event. I
need to teach them in these parts that law is law,
and that there is a man here who does not
fear to invoke it. I have established a right of
(15:35):
way through the center of Old Middleton's Park, slap across it, sir,
within a hundred yards of his own front door. What
do you think of that? We'll teach these magnates that
they cannot ride roughshod over the rights of the commoners
confound them. And I've closed the wood where the Fernworthy
folk used to picnic. These infernal people seem to think
(15:59):
that there are are no rights of property and that
they can swarm where they like with their papers and
their bottles. Both cases decided, Doctor Watson, and both in
my favor. I haven't had such a day since I
had Sir John Morland for trespass because he shot in
his own warrant. How on earth did you do that?
(16:23):
Look it up in the book, sir. It will repay
reading Franklin versus Morland, Court of Queen's Bench. It cost
me two hundred pounds, but I got my verdict. Did
it do you any good? None, sir none. I am
proud to say that I had no interest in the matter.
(16:44):
I act entirely from a sense of public duty. I
have no doubt, for example, that the Fernworthy people will
burn me in effigy to night. I told the police
last time they did it, that they should stop these
disgraceful exhibitions. The County Constabulary is in a scandalous state, sir,
and it has not afforded me the protection to which
(17:06):
I am entitled. The case of Franklin versus Regina. Will
bring the matter before the attention of the public I've
told them that they would have occasion to regret their
creepment of me, And already my words have come true.
How so, I asked the old man, put on a
very knowing expression, because I could tell them what they
(17:31):
are dying to know. But nothing would induce me to
help the rascals in any way. I had been casting
round for some excuse by which I could get away
from his gossip, But now I began to wish to
hear more of it. I had seen enough of the
contrary nature of the old sinner to understand that any
(17:53):
strong sign of interest would be the surest way to
stop his confidences. Some poaching case, no doubt, said I,
with an indifferent manner. Ah, my boy, A very much
more important matter than that. What about the convict on
the moor, I stared, You don't mean that you know
(18:15):
where he is? Said I. I may not know exactly
where he is, but I am quite sure that I
could help the police to lay their hands on him.
Has it never struck you that the way to catch
that man was to find out where he got his
food and so trace it to him. He certainly seemed
(18:35):
to be getting uncomfortably near the truth no doubt, said I,
But how do you know that he is anywhere upon
the moor? I knew it because I have seen with
my own eyes the messenger who takes him his food.
My heart set for Barrymore. It was a serious thing
(18:57):
to be in the power of this spiteful, old, old busybody.
But his next remark took a weight from my mind.
You'll be surprised to hear that his food is taken
to him by a child. I see him every day
through my telescope upon the roof. He passes along the
same path at the same hour. And to whom should
(19:19):
he be going except to the convict. Here was luck, indeed,
and yet I suppressed all appearance of interest a child.
Barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied by a boy.
It was on his track, and not upon the convicts
that Franklin had stumbled. If I could get his knowledge,
(19:40):
it might save me a long and weary hunt. But
incredulity and indifference were evidently my strongest cards. I should
say that it was much more likely that it was
the son of one of the Morland shepherds taking out
his father's dinner. The least appearance of opposition struck fire
(20:03):
out of the old autocrat. His eyes looked malignantly at me,
and his gray whiskers bristled like those of an angry cat. Indeed, Sir,
said he, pointing out over the wide stretching moor, do
you see that black tor over yonder? Well? Do you
see the low hill beyond with the thorn bush upon it?
(20:25):
It is the stoniest part of the whole moor. Is
that a place where a shepherd would be likely to
take his station? Your suggestion, Sir, is a most absurd one.
I meekly answered that I had spoken without knowing all
the facts. My submission pleased him and led him to
(20:46):
further confidences. You may be sure, Sir, that I have
very good grounds before I come to an opinion. I
have seen the boy again and again with his bundle
every day, and sometimes I have been able. But wait
a moment, doctor Watson. Do our eyes deceive me? Or
(21:08):
is there, at the present moment something moving upon that hillside?
It was several miles off, but I could distinctly see
a small dark dot against the dull green and gray Coniser, come,
cried Franklin, rushing upstairs. You will see with your own
(21:30):
eyes and judge for yourself. The telescope, a formidable instrument
mounted upon a tripod, stood upon the flat leads of
the house. Franklin clapped his eye to it and gave
a cry of satisfaction. Quick, doctor Watson, Quick before he
passes over the hill. There he was, sure enough, a
(21:51):
small urchin with a little bundle upon his shoulder, toiling
slowly up the hill. When he reached the crest, I
saw the ragged, uncouth figure outlined for an instant against
the cold blue sky. He looked round him with a
furtive and stealthy air, as one who dreads for suit.
(22:12):
Then he vanished over the hill. Well, am I right?
Certainly there is a boy who seems to have some
secret errand. And what the errand is even a county
constable could guess. But not one word shall they have
from me, and I'd bind you to secrecy, also, doctor Watson,
(22:34):
not a word, you understand, just as you wish. They
have treated me shamefully, shamefully When the facts come out
in Franklin Versus Regina, I venture to think that a
thrill of indignation will run through the country. Nothing would
induce me to help the police in any way, for
all they care, that might have been me instead of
(22:57):
my effigy, which these rascals burned at the stake. Surely
you are not going. You will help me to empty
the decanter in honor of this great occasion. But I
resisted all his solicitations and succeeded in dissuading him from
his announced intention of walking home with me. I kept
(23:18):
the road as long as his eye was on me,
and then I struck off across the moor and made
for the stony hill over which the boy had disappeared.
Everything was working in my favor, and I swore that
it should not be through lack of energy or perseverance,
that I should miss the chance which fortune had thrown
(23:40):
in my way. The sun was already sinking when I
reached the summit of the hill, and the long slopes
beneath me were all gold and green on one side,
and gray shadow on the other. A haze lay low
upon the farthest sky line, out of which jutted the
van Tostic shapes of Belliver and Vixen tore over the
(24:05):
wide expanse. There was no sound and no movement. One
great gray bird, a gull or curlew soared aloft in
the blue heaven. He and I seemed to be the
only living things between the huge arch of the sky
and the desert beneath it. The barren scene, the sense
(24:28):
of loneliness, and the mystery and urgency of my task
all struck a chill into my heart. The boy was
nowhere to be seen, but down beneath me, in a
cleft of the hills, there was a circle of the
old stone huts, and in the middle of them there
was one which retained sufficient roof to act as a
(24:51):
screen against the weather. My heart leaped within me as
I saw it. This must be the burrow where the
stranger lurk. At last, my foot was on the threshold
of his hiding place. His secret was within my grasp.
As I approached the hut, walking as warily as Stapleton
(25:13):
would do when with poised net he drew near the
settled butterfly, I satisfied myself that the place had indeed
been used as a habitation. A vague pathway among the
bowlers led to the dilapidated opening, which served as a door.
All was silent within. The unknown might be lurking there,
(25:38):
or you might be prowling on the moor. My nerves
tingled with the sense of adventure. Throwing aside my cigarette,
I closed my hand upon the butt of my revolver,
and walking swiftly up to the door, I looked in.
The place was empty, but there were ample son mines
(26:00):
that I had not come upon a false scent. This
was certainly where the man lived. Some blankets, rolled in
a waterproof lay upon that very stone slab upon which
neolithic man had once slumbered. The ashes of a fire
were heaped in a rude grate. Beside it lay some
(26:20):
cooking utensils and a bucket half full of water. A
litter of empty tins showed that the place had been
occupied for some time, and I saw, as my eyes
became accustomed to the checkered light, a pannikin and a
half full bottle of spirits standing in the corner. In
(26:40):
the middle of the hut, a flat stone served the
purpose of a table, and upon this stood a small
cloth bundle, the same, no doubt, which I had seen
through the telescope upon the shoulder of the boy. It
contained a loaf of bread, a tinned tongue, and two
(27:00):
tins of preserved peaches. As I set it down again,
after having examined it, my heart leapt to see that
beneath it there lay a sheet of paper with writing
upon it. I raised it, and this was what I read,
roughly scrawled in pencil, Doctor Watson has gone to Coombe Tracy.
(27:25):
For a minute I stood there with the paper in
my hands, thinking not the meaning of this curt message.
It was I, then, and not Sir Henry, who was
being dogged by this secret man. He had not followed
me himself, but he had set an agent, the boy,
perhaps upon my track, and this was his report. Possibly
(27:48):
I had taken no step, since I had been upon
the moor which had not been observed and reported. Always
there was this feeling of an unseen force, a fine
neck drawn round us, with infinite still and delicacy, holding
us so lightly that it was only at some supreme
moment that one realized that one was indeed entangled in
(28:09):
its meshes. If there was one report, there might be others.
So I looked round the hut in search of them.
There was no trace, however, of anything of the kind,
nor could I discover any sign which might indicate the
character or intentions of the man who lived in this
singular place, save that he must be of spot in habits,
(28:32):
and cared little for the comforts of life. When I
thought of the heavy rains and looked at the gaping roof,
I understood how strong and immutable must be the purpose
which had kept him in that inhospitable abode. Was he
our malignant enemy, or was he, by chance our guardian Angel?
(28:54):
I swore that I would not leave the hut until
I knew outside. The sun was sinking low, and the
west was blazing with scarlet and gold. Its reflection was
shot back in ruddy patches by the distant pools which
lay amid the great grimpen mire. There were the two
(29:18):
towers of Basquerville Hall, and there was a distant blur
of smoke which marked the village of Grimpin between the two,
behind the hill was the house of the Stapletons. All
was sweet and mellow and peaceful in the golden evening light.
And yet as I looked at them, my soul shared
none of the piece of nature, but quivered at the
(29:40):
vagueness and the terror of that interview which every instant
was bringing nearer with dingling nerve but a fixed purpose.
I sat in the dark recess of the hut and
waited with somba patience for the coming of its tenant,
and then had lost I heard him. Far away. Came
(30:01):
the sharp clink of a boot striking upon a stone,
Then another, and yet another, coming nearer and nearer. I
shrank back into the darkest corner and cock the pistol
in my pocket, determined not to discover myself until I
had had an opportunity of seeing something of the stranger.
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Then there was a long pause which showed that he
had stopped. Then once more the footsteps approached, and a
shadow fell across the opening of the hut. It is
a lovely evening, my dear Watson, said a well known voice.
(30:43):
I really think that you will be more comfortable outside
than in end of chapter eleven.
Chapter eleven of The Hound of the Baskervilles. This is
a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
Read by Richard Riman, the Man on the Tour. The
(00:23):
extract from my private diary which forms the last chapter
has brought my narrative up to the eighteenth of October,
a time when these strange events began to move swiftly
towards their terrible conclusion. The incidents of the next few
days are indelibly graven upon my recollection, and I can
tell them without reference to the notes made at the
(00:46):
time I start them, from the day which succeeded that
upon which I had established two facts of great importance,
the one that Missus Laura Lyons of Coombe Tracy had
written to Sir Charles Baskerville and made an appointment with
him at the very place and hour that he met
his death. The other that the lurking man upon the
(01:07):
moor was to be found among the stone huts upon
the hillside. With these two facts in my possession, I
felt that either my intelligence or my courage must be deficient.
If I could not throw some further light upon these
dark places. I had no opportunity to tell the Baronet
what I had learned about Missus Lyons upon the evening before,
(01:29):
for doctor Mortimer remained with him at cards until it
was very late at breakfast. However, I informed him about
my discovery and asked him whether he would care to
accompany me to Coombe Tracy. At first he was very
eager to come, but on second thoughts, it seemed to
both of us that if I went alone, the results
might be better. The more formal we made the visit,
(01:51):
the less information we might obtain. I left Sir Henry behind, therefore,
not without some prickings of conscience, and drove off upon
my new quest. When I reached comb Tracy, I told
Perkins to put up the horses, and I made inquiries
for the lady whom I had come to interrogate. I
(02:12):
had no difficulty in finding her rooms, which were central
and well appointed. A maid showed me in without ceremony,
and as I entered the sitting room, a lady who
was sitting before a Remington typewriter sprang up with a
pleasant smile of welcome. Her face fell However, when she
saw that I was a stranger, and she sat down
(02:34):
again and asked me the object of my visit. The
first impression left by missus Lyons was one of extreme beauty.
Her eyes and hair were of the same rich hazel color,
and her cheeks, though considerably freckled, were flushed with the
exquisite bloom of the brunette, the dainty pink which lurks
(02:55):
at the heart of the sulfur rose. Admiration was I
repeat the first impression, but the second was criticism. There
was something subtly wrong with the face, some coarseness of expression,
some hardness perhaps of eye, some looseness of lip, which
(03:16):
marred its perfect beauty. But these, of course are afterthoughts.
At the moment, I was simply conscious that I was
in the presence of a very handsome woman, and that
she was asking me the reasons for my visit. I
had not quite understood until that instant how delicate my
mission was. I have the pleasure, said I of knowing
(03:39):
your father. It was a clumsy introduction, and the lady
made me feel it. There is nothing in common between
my father and me, she said, I owe him nothing,
and his friends are not mine. If it were not
for the late Sir Charles Baskerville and some other kind hearts,
(04:00):
I might have starved for all that my father cared.
It was about the late Sir Charles Boskerville that I
have come here to see you. The freckles started out
on the lady's face. What can I tell you about him?
She asked, and her fingers played nervously over the stops
of her typewriter. You knew him, did you not. I
(04:22):
have already said that I owe a great deal to
his kindness. If I am able to support myself, it
is largely due to the interest which he took in
my unhappy situation. Did you correspond with him? The lady
looked quickly up with an angry gleam in her hazel eyes.
What is the object of these questions, she asked sharply.
(04:47):
The object is to avoid a public scandal. It is
better that I should ask them here than that the
matter should pass outside our control. She was silent, and
her face was still very At last, she looked up
with something reckless and defiant in her manner. Well, I'll answer,
(05:08):
she said, What are your questions? Did you correspond with
sir Charles. I certainly wrote to him once or twice
to acknowledge his delicacy and generosity. Have you the dates
of those letters? No? Have you ever met him? Yes,
once or twice when he came into comb tracy. He
(05:30):
was a very retiring man, and he preferred to do
good by stealth. But if you saw him so seldom
and wrote so seldom, how did he know enough about
your affairs to be able to help you as you
say that he has done? She met my difficulty with
the utmost readiness. There were several gentlemen who knew my
(05:51):
sad history and united to help me. One was mister Stapleton,
a neighbor and intimate friend of Sir Charles's. He was
exceedingly kind, and it was through him that Sir Charles
learned about my affairs. I knew already that Sir Charles
Baskerville had made Stapleton his almoner upon several occasions. So
(06:12):
the lady's statement bore the impress of truth upon it.
Did you ever write to Sir Charles asking him to
meet you? I continued, Missus Lyons, flushed with anger. Again, Really, sir,
this is a very extraordinary question. I am sorry, madam,
but I must repeat it. Then I answered, certainly not not.
(06:37):
On the very day of Sir Charles's death, the flush
had faded in an instant, and a deathly face was
before me. Her dry lips could not speak the no,
which I saw rather than heard. Surely your memory deceives,
you said I. I could even quote a passage of
(06:57):
your letter. It ran. Please please, as you are a gentleman,
burn this letter and be at the gate by ten o'clock.
I thought that she had fainted, but she recovered herself
by a supreme effort. Is there no such thing as
a gentleman? She gasped, You do, Sir Charles an injustice.
(07:23):
He did burn the letter, but sometimes a letter may
be legible even when burned. You acknowledge now that you
wrote it? Yes, I did write it, she cried, pouring
out her soul in a torrent of words. I did
write it. Why should I deny it? I have no
reason to be ashamed of it. I wished him to
(07:43):
help me. I believe that if I had an interview,
I could gain his help. So I asked him to
meet me. But why at such an hour? Because I
had only just learned that he was going to London
next day and might be away for months. There were
reasons why I could not get there earlier. But why
a rendezvous in the garden instead of a visit to
(08:05):
the house. Do you think a woman could go alone
at that hour to a bachelor's house. Well, what happened
when you did get there? I never went, Missus Lions, No,
I swear to you on all I hold sacred. I
never went. Something intervened to prevent my going. What was that?
(08:30):
That is a private matter. I cannot tell it. You
acknowledged then that you made an appointment with Sir Charles
at the very hour and place at which he met
his death, But you deny that you kept the appointment.
That is the truth. Again and again I cross questioned her,
but I could never get past that point, Missus Lyons,
(08:54):
said I as I rose from this long and inconclusive interview.
You are taking a very great responsibility and putting yourself
in a very false position by not making an absolutely
clean breast of all that you know. If I have
to call in the aid of the police, you will
find how seriously you are compromised. If your position is innocent,
(09:19):
why did you in the first instance, deny having written
to Sir Charles upon that date, because I feared that
some false conclusion might be drawn from it, and that
I might find myself involved in a scandal. And why
were you so pressing that Sir Charles should destroy your letter?
If you have read the letter, you will know I
(09:41):
did not say that I had read all the letter.
You quoted some of it. I quoted the PostScript. The
letter had, as I said, been burned, and it was
not all legible. I asked you once again why it
was that you were so pressing that Sir Charles should
destroy this letter, which he received on the day of
(10:02):
his death. The matter is a very private one. The
more reason why you should avoid a public investigation. I
will tell you. Then, if you have heard anything of
my unhappy history, you will know that I made a
rash marriage and had reason to regret it. I have
(10:23):
heard so much. My life has been one incessant persecution
from a husband whom I abhor. The law is upon
his side, and every day I am faced by the
possibility that he may force me to live with him.
At the time that I wrote this letter to Sir Charles,
I had learned that there was a prospect of my
regaining my freedom if certain expenses could be met. It
(10:47):
meant everything to me, peace of mind, happiness, self respect, everything.
I knew Sir Charles's generosity, and I thought that if
he heard the story from my own lips, he would
help me. Then how is it that you did not
go because I received help in the interval from another source.
(11:10):
Why then did you not write to Sir Charles and
explain this so I should have done had I not
seen his death in the papers next morning. The woman's
story hung coherently together, and all my questions were unable
to shake it. I could only check it by finding
if she had indeed instituted divorce proceedings against her husband
(11:33):
at or about the time of the tragedy. It was
unlikely that she would dare to say that she had
not been to Baskerville Hall. If she really had been,
for a trap would be necessary to take her there,
and would not have returned to Coombe Tracy until the
early hours of the morning. Such an excursion could not
be kept secret. The probability was therefore that she was
(11:56):
telling the truth, or at least a part of the truth.
I came away baffled and disheartened. Once again, I had
reached that dead wall which seemed to be built across
every path by which I tried to get at the
object of my mission. And yet the more I thought
of the lady's face and of her manner, the more
(12:17):
I felt that something was being held back from me.
Why should she turn so pale, Why should she fight
against every admission until it was false from her? Why
should she have been so reticent at the time of
the tragedy. Surely the explanation of all this could not
be as innocent as she would have me believe. For
(12:39):
the moment, I could proceed no farther in that direction,
but must turn back to that other clue, which was
to be sought for among the stone huts upon the moor.
And that was a most vague direction. I realized it
as I drove back, and noted how hill after hill
(12:59):
showed traces of the ancient people. Barrymore's only indication had
been that the stranger lived in one of these abandoned huts,
and many hundreds of them are scattered throughout the length
and breadth of the moor. But I had my own
experience for a guide, since it had shown me the
man himself standing upon the summit of the black tor.
(13:23):
That then should be the center of my search. From
there I should explore every hut upon the moor until
I lighted upon the right one. If this man were
inside it, I should find out from his own lips
at the point of my revolver, if necessary, who he
was and why he had dogged us so long. He
(13:44):
might slip away from us in the crowd of Regent Street,
but it would puzzle him to do so upon the
lonely moor. On the other hand, if I should find
the hut and its tenant should not be within it,
I must remain there, however long the vigil until he
returned Holmes had missed him in London. It would indeed
(14:08):
be a triumph for me if I could run him
to Earth where my master had failed. Luck had been
against us again and again in this inquiry, but now
at last it came to my aid, and the messenger
of good fortune was none other than mister Franklin, who
was standing gray, whiskered and red faced outside the gate
(14:31):
of his garden, which opened on to the high road
along which I traveled. Good day, Doctor Watson cried he
with unwonted good humor. You must really give your horses
a rest and come in to have a glass of
wine and congratulate me. My feelings towards him were very
(14:51):
far from being friendly, after what I had heard of
his treatment of his daughter. But I was anxious to
send Perkins and the wagon at home, and the opportunity
was a good one. I alighted and set a message
to Sir Henry that I should walk over in time
for dinner. Then I followed Franklin into his dining room.
(15:13):
It is a great day for me, sir, one of
the red letter days of my life, he cried, with
many chuckles. I have brought off a double event. I
need to teach them in these parts that law is law,
and that there is a man here who does not
fear to invoke it. I have established a right of
(15:35):
way through the center of Old Middleton's Park, slap across it, sir,
within a hundred yards of his own front door. What
do you think of that? We'll teach these magnates that
they cannot ride roughshod over the rights of the commoners
confound them. And I've closed the wood where the Fernworthy
folk used to picnic. These infernal people seem to think
(15:59):
that there are are no rights of property and that
they can swarm where they like with their papers and
their bottles. Both cases decided, Doctor Watson, and both in
my favor. I haven't had such a day since I
had Sir John Morland for trespass because he shot in
his own warrant. How on earth did you do that?
(16:23):
Look it up in the book, sir. It will repay
reading Franklin versus Morland, Court of Queen's Bench. It cost
me two hundred pounds, but I got my verdict. Did
it do you any good? None, sir none. I am
proud to say that I had no interest in the matter.
(16:44):
I act entirely from a sense of public duty. I
have no doubt, for example, that the Fernworthy people will
burn me in effigy to night. I told the police
last time they did it, that they should stop these
disgraceful exhibitions. The County Constabulary is in a scandalous state, sir,
and it has not afforded me the protection to which
(17:06):
I am entitled. The case of Franklin versus Regina. Will
bring the matter before the attention of the public I've
told them that they would have occasion to regret their
creepment of me, And already my words have come true.
How so, I asked the old man, put on a
very knowing expression, because I could tell them what they
(17:31):
are dying to know. But nothing would induce me to
help the rascals in any way. I had been casting
round for some excuse by which I could get away
from his gossip, But now I began to wish to
hear more of it. I had seen enough of the
contrary nature of the old sinner to understand that any
(17:53):
strong sign of interest would be the surest way to
stop his confidences. Some poaching case, no doubt, said I,
with an indifferent manner. Ah, my boy, A very much
more important matter than that. What about the convict on
the moor, I stared, You don't mean that you know
(18:15):
where he is? Said I. I may not know exactly
where he is, but I am quite sure that I
could help the police to lay their hands on him.
Has it never struck you that the way to catch
that man was to find out where he got his
food and so trace it to him. He certainly seemed
(18:35):
to be getting uncomfortably near the truth no doubt, said I,
But how do you know that he is anywhere upon
the moor? I knew it because I have seen with
my own eyes the messenger who takes him his food.
My heart set for Barrymore. It was a serious thing
(18:57):
to be in the power of this spiteful, old, old busybody.
But his next remark took a weight from my mind.
You'll be surprised to hear that his food is taken
to him by a child. I see him every day
through my telescope upon the roof. He passes along the
same path at the same hour. And to whom should
(19:19):
he be going except to the convict. Here was luck, indeed,
and yet I suppressed all appearance of interest a child.
Barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied by a boy.
It was on his track, and not upon the convicts
that Franklin had stumbled. If I could get his knowledge,
(19:40):
it might save me a long and weary hunt. But
incredulity and indifference were evidently my strongest cards. I should
say that it was much more likely that it was
the son of one of the Morland shepherds taking out
his father's dinner. The least appearance of opposition struck fire
(20:03):
out of the old autocrat. His eyes looked malignantly at me,
and his gray whiskers bristled like those of an angry cat. Indeed, Sir,
said he, pointing out over the wide stretching moor, do
you see that black tor over yonder? Well? Do you
see the low hill beyond with the thorn bush upon it?
(20:25):
It is the stoniest part of the whole moor. Is
that a place where a shepherd would be likely to
take his station? Your suggestion, Sir, is a most absurd one.
I meekly answered that I had spoken without knowing all
the facts. My submission pleased him and led him to
(20:46):
further confidences. You may be sure, Sir, that I have
very good grounds before I come to an opinion. I
have seen the boy again and again with his bundle
every day, and sometimes I have been able. But wait
a moment, doctor Watson. Do our eyes deceive me? Or
(21:08):
is there, at the present moment something moving upon that hillside?
It was several miles off, but I could distinctly see
a small dark dot against the dull green and gray Coniser, come,
cried Franklin, rushing upstairs. You will see with your own
(21:30):
eyes and judge for yourself. The telescope, a formidable instrument
mounted upon a tripod, stood upon the flat leads of
the house. Franklin clapped his eye to it and gave
a cry of satisfaction. Quick, doctor Watson, Quick before he
passes over the hill. There he was, sure enough, a
(21:51):
small urchin with a little bundle upon his shoulder, toiling
slowly up the hill. When he reached the crest, I
saw the ragged, uncouth figure outlined for an instant against
the cold blue sky. He looked round him with a
furtive and stealthy air, as one who dreads for suit.
(22:12):
Then he vanished over the hill. Well, am I right?
Certainly there is a boy who seems to have some
secret errand. And what the errand is even a county
constable could guess. But not one word shall they have
from me, and I'd bind you to secrecy, also, doctor Watson,
(22:34):
not a word, you understand, just as you wish. They
have treated me shamefully, shamefully When the facts come out
in Franklin Versus Regina, I venture to think that a
thrill of indignation will run through the country. Nothing would
induce me to help the police in any way, for
all they care, that might have been me instead of
(22:57):
my effigy, which these rascals burned at the stake. Surely
you are not going. You will help me to empty
the decanter in honor of this great occasion. But I
resisted all his solicitations and succeeded in dissuading him from
his announced intention of walking home with me. I kept
(23:18):
the road as long as his eye was on me,
and then I struck off across the moor and made
for the stony hill over which the boy had disappeared.
Everything was working in my favor, and I swore that
it should not be through lack of energy or perseverance,
that I should miss the chance which fortune had thrown
(23:40):
in my way. The sun was already sinking when I
reached the summit of the hill, and the long slopes
beneath me were all gold and green on one side,
and gray shadow on the other. A haze lay low
upon the farthest sky line, out of which jutted the
van Tostic shapes of Belliver and Vixen tore over the
(24:05):
wide expanse. There was no sound and no movement. One
great gray bird, a gull or curlew soared aloft in
the blue heaven. He and I seemed to be the
only living things between the huge arch of the sky
and the desert beneath it. The barren scene, the sense
(24:28):
of loneliness, and the mystery and urgency of my task
all struck a chill into my heart. The boy was
nowhere to be seen, but down beneath me, in a
cleft of the hills, there was a circle of the
old stone huts, and in the middle of them there
was one which retained sufficient roof to act as a
(24:51):
screen against the weather. My heart leaped within me as
I saw it. This must be the burrow where the
stranger lurk. At last, my foot was on the threshold
of his hiding place. His secret was within my grasp.
As I approached the hut, walking as warily as Stapleton
(25:13):
would do when with poised net he drew near the
settled butterfly, I satisfied myself that the place had indeed
been used as a habitation. A vague pathway among the
bowlers led to the dilapidated opening, which served as a door.
All was silent within. The unknown might be lurking there,
(25:38):
or you might be prowling on the moor. My nerves
tingled with the sense of adventure. Throwing aside my cigarette,
I closed my hand upon the butt of my revolver,
and walking swiftly up to the door, I looked in.
The place was empty, but there were ample son mines
(26:00):
that I had not come upon a false scent. This
was certainly where the man lived. Some blankets, rolled in
a waterproof lay upon that very stone slab upon which
neolithic man had once slumbered. The ashes of a fire
were heaped in a rude grate. Beside it lay some
(26:20):
cooking utensils and a bucket half full of water. A
litter of empty tins showed that the place had been
occupied for some time, and I saw, as my eyes
became accustomed to the checkered light, a pannikin and a
half full bottle of spirits standing in the corner. In
(26:40):
the middle of the hut, a flat stone served the
purpose of a table, and upon this stood a small
cloth bundle, the same, no doubt, which I had seen
through the telescope upon the shoulder of the boy. It
contained a loaf of bread, a tinned tongue, and two
(27:00):
tins of preserved peaches. As I set it down again,
after having examined it, my heart leapt to see that
beneath it there lay a sheet of paper with writing
upon it. I raised it, and this was what I read,
roughly scrawled in pencil, Doctor Watson has gone to Coombe Tracy.
(27:25):
For a minute I stood there with the paper in
my hands, thinking not the meaning of this curt message.
It was I, then, and not Sir Henry, who was
being dogged by this secret man. He had not followed
me himself, but he had set an agent, the boy,
perhaps upon my track, and this was his report. Possibly
(27:48):
I had taken no step, since I had been upon
the moor which had not been observed and reported. Always
there was this feeling of an unseen force, a fine
neck drawn round us, with infinite still and delicacy, holding
us so lightly that it was only at some supreme
moment that one realized that one was indeed entangled in
(28:09):
its meshes. If there was one report, there might be others.
So I looked round the hut in search of them.
There was no trace, however, of anything of the kind,
nor could I discover any sign which might indicate the
character or intentions of the man who lived in this
singular place, save that he must be of spot in habits,
(28:32):
and cared little for the comforts of life. When I
thought of the heavy rains and looked at the gaping roof,
I understood how strong and immutable must be the purpose
which had kept him in that inhospitable abode. Was he
our malignant enemy, or was he, by chance our guardian Angel?
(28:54):
I swore that I would not leave the hut until
I knew outside. The sun was sinking low, and the
west was blazing with scarlet and gold. Its reflection was
shot back in ruddy patches by the distant pools which
lay amid the great grimpen mire. There were the two
(29:18):
towers of Basquerville Hall, and there was a distant blur
of smoke which marked the village of Grimpin between the two,
behind the hill was the house of the Stapletons. All
was sweet and mellow and peaceful in the golden evening light.
And yet as I looked at them, my soul shared
none of the piece of nature, but quivered at the
(29:40):
vagueness and the terror of that interview which every instant
was bringing nearer with dingling nerve but a fixed purpose.
I sat in the dark recess of the hut and
waited with somba patience for the coming of its tenant,
and then had lost I heard him. Far away. Came
(30:01):
the sharp clink of a boot striking upon a stone,
Then another, and yet another, coming nearer and nearer. I
shrank back into the darkest corner and cock the pistol
in my pocket, determined not to discover myself until I
had had an opportunity of seeing something of the stranger.
(30:23):
Then there was a long pause which showed that he
had stopped. Then once more the footsteps approached, and a
shadow fell across the opening of the hut. It is
a lovely evening, my dear Watson, said a well known voice.
(30:43):
I really think that you will be more comfortable outside
than in end of chapter eleven.
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