09 - The Light upon the Moor [Second Report of Dr. Watson]. The Hound of The Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
The Hound of the Baskervilles is the third of the four crime novels written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle featuring the detective Sherlock Holmes. Originally serialised in The Strand Magazine from August 1901 to April 1902, it is set largely on Dartmoor in Devon in England's West Country and tells the story of an attempted murder inspired by the legend of a fearsome, diabolical hound of supernatural origin. Sherlock Holmes and his companion Dr. Watson investigate the case. This was the first appearance of Holmes since his intended death in "The Final Problem", and the success of The Hound of the Baskervilles led to the character's eventual revival.
The Hound of the Baskervilles is the third of the four crime novels written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle featuring the detective Sherlock Holmes. Originally serialised in The Strand Magazine from August 1901 to April 1902, it is set largely on Dartmoor in Devon in England's West Country and tells the story of an attempted murder inspired by the legend of a fearsome, diabolical hound of supernatural origin. Sherlock Holmes and his companion Dr. Watson investigate the case. This was the first appearance of Holmes since his intended death in "The Final Problem", and the success of The Hound of the Baskervilles led to the character's eventual revival.
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Chapter nine of The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Bobnefeld, Chapter nine, second report of Doctor Watson,
the Lights upon the Moor, Baskerville Hall, October fifteenth. My
(00:27):
dear mister Holmes, if I was compelled to leave you
without much news during the early days of my mission,
you must acknowledge that I am making up for lost time,
and that events are now crowding thick and fast upon us.
And my last report I ended upon my top note,
with Barrymore at the window. And now I have quite
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a budget already which will, unless I am much mistaken,
considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I
could not have anticipated. In some ways they have, within
the last forty eight hours become much clearer, and in
some ways they have become more complicated. But I will
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tell you all, and you shall judge for yourself. Before
breakfast on the morning following my adventure, I went down
the corridor and examined the room in which Barymon had
been the night before, the western window through which he
had stared so intently. Has I noticed one peculiarity. Above
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all other windows in the house, it commands the nearest
outlook on the moor. There is an opening between two
trees which enables one from this point of view to
look right down upon it, while from all the other
windows it is only a distant glimpse which can be obtained.
It follows therefore that Barrimont, since only this window would
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serve the purpose, must have been looking out for something
or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark,
so that I can hardly imagine how he could have
hoped to see anyone. It had struck me that it
was possible that some love intrigue was on foot. That
would have accounted for his stealthy movements, and also for
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the uneasiness of his wife. The man is a striking
looking fellow, very well equipped to steal the heart of
a country girl, so that this theory seemed to have
something to support it. That opening of the door, which
I had heard after I returned to my room, might
mean that he had gone out to keep some clandestine appointment.
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So I reasoned with myself in the morning, and I
tell you the direction of my suspicions. However much the
result may have shown that they were unfounded. But whenever
the true explanation of Barrymore's movements might be, I felt
that the responsibility of keeping them to myself until I
could explain them was more than I could bear. I
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had an interview with the baronet in his study after breakfast,
and I told him all that I had seen. He
was less surprised than I had expected. I knew that
Barrymore walked about nights, and I had a mind to
speak to him about it. Said he, two or three
times I have heard his steps in the passage, coming
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and going just about the hour you name. Perhaps then
he pays a visit every night to that particular window,
I suggested, Perhaps he does. If so, we should be
able to shadow him and see what it is that
he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmes would
do if he were here. I believe that he would
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do exactly what you now suggest, said I. He would
follow Barrymore and see what he did. Then we shall
do it together. Oh but surely he would hear us.
The man is rather deaf, and in any case we
must take our chance of that. We'll sit up in
my room to night and wait until he passes. Sir
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Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident
that he hailed the adventure as a belief to his
somewhat quiet life upon the moor. The Baronet has been
in communication with the architect who prepared the plans for
Sir Charles, and with a contractor from London, so that
we may expect great changes to begin here soon. There
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have been decorators and furnishers up from Plymouth, and it
is evident that our friend has large ideas and means
to spare no pains or expense to restore the grandeur
of his family. When the house is renovated and refurnished,
all that he will need will be a wife to
make it complete. Between ourselves there are pretty clear signs
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that this will not be wanting if the lady is willing.
For I have sel them seen a man more infatuated
with a woman than he is with our beautiful neighbor,
Miss Stapleton. And yet the course of true love does
not run quite as smoothly as one would under the
circumstances expect to day. For example, its surface was broken
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by a very unexpected ripple, which has caused our friend
considerable perplexity and annoyance. After the conversation which I have
quoted about Barrymore, Sir Henry put on his hat and
prepared to go out. As a matter of course, I
did the same. What are you coming, Watson, he asked,
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looking at me in a curious way. Or that depends
on whether you are going on the moor? Said I, yes,
I am well, you know what my instructions are. I
am sorry to intrude, but you heard how earnestly Holmes
insisted that I should not leave you, and actually that
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you should not go alone upon the moor. Sir Henry
put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasant smile.
My dear fellow, said he Holmes, with all his wisdom,
did not foresee some things which have happened since I
have been on the moor. You understand me. I am
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sure that you are the last man in the world
who would wished to be a spoil sport. I must
go out alone. It put me in a most awkward position.
I was at a loss what to say or what
to do. And before I made up my mind, he
picked up his cane and was gone. But when I
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came to think the matter over, my conscience reproached me
bitterly for having, on any pretext allowed him to go
out of my sight. I imagine what my feelings would be
if I had to return to you and to confess
that some misfortune had occurred through my disregard for your instructions.
I assure you my cheeks flushed at the very thought.
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It might not even now be too late to overtake him.
So I set off at once in the direction of
Merripit House. I hurried along the road at the top
of my speed, without seeing anything of Sir Henry, until
I came to the point where the moor path branches off. There,
fearing that perhaps I had come in the wrong direction
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after all, I mounted a hill from which I could
command a view the same hill which is cut into
the dark quarry. Thence I saw him at once. He
was on the moor path, about a quarter of a
mile off, and a lady was by his side, who
could only be Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there
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was already an understanding between them, and that they had
met by appointment. They were walking slowly along in deep conversation,
and I saw her making quick little movements of her hands,
as if she were very earnest in what she was saying,
while he listened intently, and once or twice shook his
head in strong descent. I stood among the rocks, watching them,
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very much puzzled as to what I should do next.
To follow them and break into their intimate conversation seemed
to be an outrage, and yet my clear duty was
never for an instant to let him out of my sight.
To act the spy upon a friend was a hateful task. Still,
I could see no better course than to observe him
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from the hill, and to clear my conscience by confessing
to him afterwards what I had done. It is true
that if any sudden danger had threatened him, I was
too far away to be of use. And yet I
am sure that you will agree with me that the
position was very difficult, and that there was nothing more
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which I could do. Our friend, Sir Henry, and the
lady had halted on the path and were standing deeply
absorbed in their conversation. When I was suddenly aware that
I was not the only witness of their interview. A
wisp of green floating in the air caught my eye,
and another glance showed me that it was carried on
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a stick by a man who was moving among the
broken ground. It was Stapleton with his butterfly net. He
was very much closer to the pair than I was,
and he appeared to be moving in their direction. At
this instant, Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side.
His arm was around her, but it seemed to me
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that she was straining away from him, with her face averted.
He stooped his head to hers, and she raised one
hand as if in protest. Next moment I saw him
spring apart and turn hurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause
of the in He was running wildly towards them, his
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absurd net dangling behind him. He gesticulated and almost danced
with excitement in front of the lovers. What the scene
meant I could not imagine, but it seemed to me
that Stapleton was abusing Sir Henry, who offered explanations, which
became more angry as the other refused to accept them.
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The lady stood by in haughty silence. Finally Stapleton turned
upon his heel and beckoned in a peremptory way to
his sister, who, after an irresolute glance at Sir Henry
walked off by the side of her brother. The naturalist's
angry gestures showed that the lady was included in his displeasure.
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The baronet stood for a minute looking after them, and
then he walked slowly back the way that he had come,
his head hanging the very picture of dejection. What all
this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply
ashamed to have witnessed so intimate a scene without my
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friend's knowledge. I ran down the hill therefore, and met
the baronet at the bottom. His face was flushed with anger,
and his brows were wrinkled, like one who was at
his wits ends. What to do? Hullo, Watson, where have
you dropped from? Said he. You don't mean to say
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that you came after me? In spite of all, I
explained everything to him, how I had found it impossible
to remain behind, how I had followed him, and how
I had witnessed all that had occurred. For an instant
his eyes blazed at me, but my frankness disarmed his anger,
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and he broke at last into a rather rueful laugh.
You would have thought the middle of that prairie affair,
save place for a man to be private, said he.
But by thunder the whole countryside seems to have been
out to see me do my wooing, and a mighty
poor wooing at that? Where had you engaged a seat?
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I was on that hill, quite in the back row, eh,
But her brother was well up to the front. Did
you see him come out on us? Yes? I did.
Did he ever strike you as being crazy? This brother
of hers? I can't say that he ever did. I
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dare say not. I always thought him sane enough till
to day. But you can take it from me that
either he or I ought to be in a strait jacket.
What's the matter with me? Anyhow? You've lived near me
for some weeks? Watson? Tell me straight now? Is there
anything that would prevent me from making a good husband
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to a woman that I? I should say not? He
can't object to my worldly position, so it must be
myself that he has this down on. What has he
against me? I never hurt man or woman in my
life that I know of, And yet he would not
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so much as let me touch the tips of her fingers?
Did he says? So? That? And a deal more, I
tell you Watson. I've only known her these few weeks,
but from the first I just felt that she was
made for me, and she too. She was happy when
she was with me, and that I'll swear there's a
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light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words.
But he has never let us get together. And it
is only today, for the first time that I saw
a chance of having a few words with her alone.
She was glad to meet me, but once she did,
it was not love that she would talk about, and
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she wouldn't have let me talk about it either, if
she could have stopped it. She kept coming back to it,
that this was a place of danger and that she
would never be happy until I had left it. I
told her that since I had seen her, I was
in no hurry to leave it, and that if she
really wanted me to go, the only way to work
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it was for her to arrange to go with me.
With that, I offered in as many words, to marry her.
But before she could answer down came this brother of
hers running at us with a face on him like
a madman. He was just white with rage, and those
light eyes of his were blazing with fury. What was
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I doing with the lady. How dared I offer her
attentions which were distasteful to her? Did I think that
because I was a baronet I could do what I liked?
If he had not been her brother, I should have
known better how to answer him. As it was, I
told him that my feelings towards her sister were such
as I was not ashamed of, and that I hoped
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that she might honor me by becoming my wife. That
seemed to make the matter no better. So then I
lost my temper too, and I answered him rather more
hotly than I should, perhaps considering that she was standing by.
So it ended by his going off with her, as
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you saw, And here am I as badly puzzled a
man as any in this county. Just tell me what
it all means, Watson, and I owe you more than
ever I can hope to pay. I tried one or
two explanations, but indeed I was completely puzzled myself. Our
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friend's title, his fortune, his age, his character, and his
appearance are all in his favor, and I know nothing
against him, as it be this dark fate which runs
in his family, that his advances should be rejected. So
brusquely without any reference to the lady's own wishes, and
that the lady should accept the situation without protest is
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very amazing. However, our conjectures were set at rest by
a visit from Stapleton himself that very afternoon. He had
come to offer apologies for his rudeness of the morning,
and after a long private interview with Sir Henry in
his study, the upshot of their conversation was that the
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breach is quite healed, and that we are to dine
at Merriport House next Friday as a sign of it.
I don't say now that he isn't a crazy man,
said Sir Henry. I can't forget the look in his
eyes when he ran at me this morning. But I
must allow that no man could make a more handsome
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apology than he has done. Did he give any explanation
of his conduct. His sister is everything in his life,
he says. That is natural enough, and I am glad
that he should understand her value. They have always been together,
and according to his account, he has been a very
lonely man with only her as a companion, so that
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the thought of losing her was really terrible to him.
He had not understood. He said that I was becoming
attached to her, But when he saw with his own
eyes that it was really so, and that she might
be taken away from him, it gave him such a
shock that for a time he was not responsible for
what he said or did. He was very sorry for
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all that had passed, and he recognized how foolish and
how selfish it was that he could imagine that he
could hold a beautiful woman like his sister to himself
for her whole life. If she had to leave him,
he had rather it was to a neighbor like myself
than to any one else. But in any case, it
was a blow to him, and it would take him
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some time before he could prepare himself to meet it.
He would withdraw all opposition upon his part if I
would promise for three months to let the matter rest,
and to be content with cultivating the lady's friendship during
that time without claiming her love. This I promised, and
so the matter rests. So there is one of our
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small mysteries cleared up. It is something to have touched
bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering.
We know now why stable to look with disfavor upon
his sister's suitor, even when that suitor was so eligible
a one as Sir Henry. And now I pass on
to another thread which I have extricated out of the
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tangled skein the mystery of the sobs in the night
of the tear stained face of Missus barrymore of the
secret journey of the butler to the western lattice window.
Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I
have not disappointed you as an agent, that you do
not regret the confidence which you showed in me when
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you set me down. All these things have by one
night's work been thoroughly cleared. I have said by one
night's work, but in truth it was by two nights work.
For on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat
up with Sir Henry in his rooms until nearly three
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o'clock in the morning, but no sound of any sort
did we hear, except the chiming clock upon the stairs.
It was a most melancholy vigil and ended by each
of us falling asleep in our chairs. Fortunately we were
not discouraged, and we determined to try again. The next night.
We lowered the lamp and sat smoking cigarettes without making
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the least sound. It was incredible how slowly the hours
crawled by, and yet we were helped through it by
the same sort of patient interest which the hunter must
feel as he watches the trap into which he hopes
the game will wander. One struck and two, and we
had almost for the second time given it up in despair,
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when in an instant we both sat bolt upright in
our chairs, with all our weary senses keenly on the alert.
Once more, we had heard the creak of a step
in the passage. Very stealthily, we heard it pass along
until it died away in the distance. Then the baronet
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gently opened his door and we sat out in pursuit.
Already our man had gone round the gallery and the
corridor was all in darkness. Softly, we stole along until
we had come into the other wing. We were just
in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, black
bearded figure, his shoulders rounded as he tiptoed down the passage.
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Then he passed through the same door as before, and
the light of the candle framed it in the darkness,
and shot one single yellow beam across the gloom of
the corridor. We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank
before we dared to put our whole weight upon it.
We had taken the precaution of leaving our boots behind us,
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but even so the old boards snapped and creaked beneath
our tread. Sometimes it seemed impossible that he should fail
to hear our approach. However, the man is fortunately rather deaf,
and he was entirely preoccupied in that which he was doing.
When at last we reached the door and peeped through,
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we found him crouching at the window, candle in hand,
his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly as
I had seen him two nights before. We had arranged
no plan of campaign, But the Baronet is a man
to whom the most direct way is always the most natural.
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He walked into the room, and as he did so,
Barrymore sprang up from the window with a sharp hiss
of his breath, and stood livid and trembling before us.
His dark eyes glaring out of the white mask of
his face, were full of horror and astonishment as he
gazed from Sir Henry to me, what are you doing here? Barrymore, nothing, sir.
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His agitation was so great that he could hardly speak,
and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking
of his candle. It was the window, sir. I go
round at night to see that they are fastened on
the second floor. Yes, sir, all the windows. Look here, Barrymore,
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said sir Henry sternly. We have made up our minds
to have the truth out of you, so it will
save you trouble to tell it sooner rather than later.
Come now, no lies, What were you doing at that window?
The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and
he wrung his hands together, like one who was in
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the last extremity of doubt and misery. I was doing
no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to the window.
And why were you holding a candle to the window.
Don't ask me, sir, Henry, don't ask me. I give
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you my word, sir, that it is not my secret,
and that I cannot tell it. If it concerned no
one but myself, I would not try to keep it
from you. A sudden idea occurred to me, and I
took the candle from the trembling hand of the butler,
he must have been holding it as a signal, said
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I us see if there is any answer. I held
it as he had done, and stared out into the
darkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern the black
bank of the trees and the lighter expanse of the moor,
for the moon was behind the clouds. And then I
gave a cry of exultation, for a tiny pinpoint of
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yellow light had suddenly transfixed the dark veil and glowed
steadily in the center of the black square framed by
the window. There it is, I cried, No, no, sir,
it is nothing, nothing at all. The butler broke in.
I assure you, sir, move your light across the window.
Watson cried, the baronet see the other moves also. Now,
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you rascal, do you deny that it is a signal?
Come speak up? Who is your confederate out yonder? And
what is this conspiracy that is going on? The man's
face became open, defiant. It is my business and not yours.
I will not tell. Then you leave my employment right away,
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very good, sir. If I must, I must, and you
go in disgrace by thunder. You may well be ashamed
of yourself. Your family has lived with mine for over
a hundred years under this roof, and here I find
you deep in some dark plot against me. No, no, sir, no,
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not against you. It was a woman's voice, and missus
barrymore paler and more horror struck than her husband, was
standing at the door. Her bunky figure in a shawl
and skirt might have been comic were it not for
the intensity of feeling upon her face. We have to go, Eliza,
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this is the end of it. You can pack our things,
said the butler. Oh John, John, have I brought you
to this? It is my doing, Sir, Henry all mine.
He has done nothing except for my sake, And because
I asked him speak out. Then what does it mean?
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My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot
let him perish at our very gates. The light is
a signal to him that food is ready for him,
and his light out yonder is to show the spot
to which to bring it. Then your brother is the
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escaped convict, Sir Selden, the criminal. That's the truth, sir,
said Barrymore. I said that it was not my secret,
and that I could not tell it to you. But
now you have heard it, and you will see that
if there was a plot, it was not against you. This, then,
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was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions at nights and
the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both
stared at the woman in amazement. Was it possible that
this stolidly respectable person was of the same blood as
one of the most notorious criminals in the country. Yes, sir,
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my name is Selden, and he is my younger brother.
We humored him too much when he was a lad,
and gave him his own way and everything, until he
came to think that the world was made for his
pleasure and that he could do what he liked in it. Then,
as he grew older, he met wicked companions, and the
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devil entered into him, until he broke my mother's heart
and dragged our name in the dirt. From crime to
crime he sank lower and lower, until it is only
the mercy of God which had snatched him from the scaffold.
But to me, Sir, he was always the little curly
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headed boy that I had nursed and played with as
an elder sister. Would that is why he broke prison Sir,
he knew that I was here and that we could
not refuse to help him. When he dragged himself here
one night, weary and starving, with the warders hard at
his heels, what could we do? We took him in
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and fed him and cared for him. Then you returned, sir,
and my brother thought he would be safer on the
moon than anywhere else until the hue and cry was over.
So he lay in hiding there. But every second night
we made sure if he was still there by putting
a light in the window, and if there was an answer,
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my husband took out some bread and meat to him.
Every day we hoped that he was gone, But as
long as he was there, we could not desert him.
That is the whole truth. As I am an honest
Christian woman, and you will see that if there is
blame in the matter, it does not lie with my husband,
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but with me, for whose sake he has done all
that he has. The woman's words came with an intense
earnestness which carried conviction with them. Is this true? Barrymore, yes, sir,
Henry every word of it. Well, I cannot blame you
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for standing by your own wife forget what I have said.
Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk
further about this matter. In the morning, when they were gone,
we looked out of the window again. Sir Henry had
flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in
upon our faces. Far away, in the black distance, there
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still glowed that one point of yellow light. I wonder,
he dares, said, Sir Henry, it may be so placed
as to be only visible from here. Very likely. How
far do you think it is out by the cleft tour?
I think not more than a mile or two off,
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hardly that well, it cannot be far if barrymore had
to carry out the food to it, and he is
waiting this villain beside that candle by thunder, Watson, I
am going out to take that man. The same thought
had crossed my own mind. It was not as if
the Barymores had taken us into their confidence. Their secret
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had been forced from them. The man was a danger
to the community, an unmitigated scoundrel for whom there was
neither pity nor excuse. We were only doing our duty
and taking this chance of putting him back where he
could do no harm with his brutal and violent nature.
Others would have to pay the price. If we held
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our hands any night, For example, our neighbors, the Stapletons,
might be attacked by him. And it may have been
the thought of this which made Sir Henry so keen
upon the adventure by will come, said, I, then get
your revolver and put on your boots. The sooner we start,
the better. As the fellow mat put out his light
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and be off. In five minutes we were outside the
door starting upon our expedition. We hurried through the dark shrubbery,
amid the dull moaning of the autumn wind and the
rustling of the falling leaves. The night air was heavy
with the smell of damp and decay. Now and again
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the moon peeped out for an instant, but clouds were
driving over the face of the sky, and just as
we came out on the moor, a thin rain began
to fall. The light still burned steadily in front. Are
you armed, i asked, I have a hunting crop. We
must close in on him rapidly, for he is said
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to be a desperate fellow. We shall take him by
surprise and have him at our mercy before he can
resist I say, Watson, said the baronet, What would Holmes
say to this? How about that hour of darkness in
which the power of evil is exalted? As if in
answer to his words, there rose suddenly out of the
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vast gloom of the moor that strange cry which I
had already heard upon the borders of the great guimp
and Mire. It came with the wind through the silence
of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl,
and then the sad moan, in which it died away.
Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident,
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wild and menacing. The baronet caught my sleeve, and his
face glimmered white through the darkness. My god, what's that, Watson?
I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor.
I heard it once before. It died away, and an
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absolute silence closed in upon us. We stood, straining our ears,
but nothing came. Watson, said the baronet. It was the
cry of a hound. My blood ran cold in my veins,
for there was a break in his voice which told
(33:41):
of the sudden horror which had seized him. What do
they call this sound? He asked, Oh, the folk on
the country side. Ah, they are ignorant people. Why should
you mind what they call it? Tell me, Watson, what
do they say of it? I hesitated, but could not
(34:03):
escape the question. They say it is the cry of
the hound of the Baskervilles. He groaned and was silent
for a few moments. A hound, it was, he said
at last. But it seemed to come from miles away,
over yonder. I think it was hard to say whence
(34:25):
it came. It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't
that the direction of the great grimp and mire? Yes,
it is, well, it was up there. Come now, Watson.
Didn't you think yourself that it was the cry of
a hound? I am not a child. You need not
fear to speak the truth. Stapleton was with me when
(34:49):
I heard it last. He said that it might be
the calling of a strange bird. No, no, it was
a hound. My God? Can there be some truth in
all these stories? Is it possible that I am really
in danger from so dark a cause? You don't believe it,
(35:09):
do you, Watson? No? No? And yet it was one
thing to laugh about it in London, and it is
another to stand out here in the darkness of the moor,
and to hear such a cry as that, and my
uncle there was the footprint of the hound beside him
as he lay. It all fits together. I don't think
(35:33):
that I am a coward Watson, but that sound seems
to freeze my very blood. Feel my hand, it was
as cold as a block of marble. You'll be all
right tomorrow. I don't think that I'll get that cry
out of my head. What do you advise that we
(35:55):
do now? Oh? Shall we turn back? No, I thunder.
We have come out to get our men, and we
will do it. We after the convict, and a hell
hound as likely as not after us. Come on, we'll
see it through. If all the fiends of the pit
(36:15):
were loose upon the moor. We stumbled slowly along in
the darkness, with the black loom of the craggy hills
around us, and the yellow speck of light burning steadily
in front. There is nothing so deceptive as the distance
of a light upon a pitch dark night. And sometimes
the glimmer seemed to be far away upon the horizon,
(36:38):
and sometimes it might have been within a few yards
of us. But at last we could see whence it came,
And then we knew that we were indeed very close.
A guttering candle was stuck in a crevice of the
rocks which flanked it on each side, so as to
keep the wind from it, and also to prevent it
from being visible save in the direct of Baskerville Hall.
(37:02):
A boulder of granite concealed our approach, and crouching behind it,
we gazed over it at the signal light. It was
strange to see this single candle burning there in the
middle of the moor, with no sign of life near it,
just the one straight yellow flame and the gleam of
the rock on each side of it. What shall we
(37:25):
do now, whispered Sir Henry. Wait here, he must be
near his light. Let us see if we can get
a glimpse of him. My words were hardly out of
my mouth when we both saw him. Over the rocks.
In the crevice of which the candle burned, there was
thrust out an evil yellow face, a terrible animal face,
(37:49):
all seamed and scored with vile passions, foul with mire,
with a bristling beard, and hung with matted hair. It
might well have belonged to one of those old savages
who dwelt in the burrows on the hillsides. The light
beneath him was reflected in his small, cunning eyes, which
peered fiercely to right and left through the darkness, like
(38:12):
a crafty and savage animal who has heard the steps
of the hunters. Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It
may have been that Barrymore had some private signal which
he had neglected to give, or the fellow may have
had some other reason for thinking that all was not well.
But I could read his fears upon his wicked face.
(38:36):
Any instant he might dash out of the light and
vanish in the darkness. I sprang forward therefore, and Sir
Henry did the same. At the same moment, the convict
screamed out a curse at us, and hurled a rock,
which splintered up against the boulder which had sheltered us.
I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, strongly built
(38:59):
figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run.
At the same moment, by a lucky chance, the moon
broke through the clouds. We rushed over the brow of
the hill, and there was our man running with great
speed on the other side, springing over the stones in
his way with the activity of a mountain goat. A
(39:21):
lucky long shot of my revolver might have crippled him,
but I had brought it only to defend myself if attacked,
and not to shoot an unarmed man who was running away.
We were both swift runners and in fairly good training,
but we soon found that we had no chance of
overtaking him. We saw him for a long time in
(39:42):
the moonlight, until he was only a small speck moving
swiftly among the boulders upon the side of a distant hill.
We ran and ran until we were completely blown, but
the space between us grew ever wider. Finally we stopped
and sat panting on two rocks, where we watched him
(40:02):
disappearing in the distance. And it was at this moment
that there occurred a most strange and unexpected thing. We
had risen from our rocks and were turning to go home,
having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was low upon
the rights, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor
(40:22):
stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc. There,
outlined as black as an ebony statue, on that shining background,
I saw the figure of a man upon the tour.
Do not think it was a delusion, Holmes, I assure
you that I have never in my life seen anything more. Clearly,
(40:44):
as far as I could judge, the figure was that
of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legs
a little separated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as
if he were brooding over that enormous wilderness of peat
and granite which lay before him. He might have been
the very spirit of that terrible place. It was not
(41:06):
the convict. This man was far from the place where
the latter had disappeared. Besides, he was a much taller man.
With a cry of surprise, I pointed him out to
the baronet, But in the instant during which I had
turned to grasp his arm, the man was gone. There
was the sharp pinnacle of granite still cutting the lower
(41:27):
edge of the moon, but its peak bore no trace
of that silent and motionless figure. I wished to go
in that direction and to search the tour, but it
was some distance away. The baronet's nurse were still quivering
from that cry, which recalled the dark story of his family,
and he was not in the mood for fresh advengures.
(41:50):
He had not seen this lonely man upon the tour,
and could not feel the thrill which his strange presence
and his commanding attitude had given to me. The warder,
no doubt, said he, The moor has been thick with
them since this fellow escaped. Well, perhaps his explanation may
be the right one, but I should like to have
(42:11):
some for the proof of it. To day we mean
to communicate to the Provincetown people where they should look
for their missing man. But it is hard lines that
we have not actually had the triumph of bringing him
back as our own prisoner. Such are the adventures of
last night. And you must acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that
(42:32):
I have done you very well in the matter of
a report. Much of what I tell you is no
doubt quite irrelevant. But still I feel that it is
best that I should let you have all the facts
and leave you to select for yourself those which will
be of most service to you in helping you to
your conclusions. We are certainly making some progress so far
(42:55):
as the Barrymores go. We have found the motive of
their actions, and that cleared up the situation very much.
But the more with its mysteries and its strange inhabitants,
remains as inscrutable as ever. Perhaps in my next I
may be able to throw some light upon this also.
(43:16):
Best of all, would it be if you could come
down to us. In any case, you will hear from
me again in the course of the next few days.
End of Chapter nine.
Chapter nine of The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Bobnefeld, Chapter nine, second report of Doctor Watson,
the Lights upon the Moor, Baskerville Hall, October fifteenth. My
(00:27):
dear mister Holmes, if I was compelled to leave you
without much news during the early days of my mission,
you must acknowledge that I am making up for lost time,
and that events are now crowding thick and fast upon us.
And my last report I ended upon my top note,
with Barrymore at the window. And now I have quite
(00:49):
a budget already which will, unless I am much mistaken,
considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I
could not have anticipated. In some ways they have, within
the last forty eight hours become much clearer, and in
some ways they have become more complicated. But I will
(01:10):
tell you all, and you shall judge for yourself. Before
breakfast on the morning following my adventure, I went down
the corridor and examined the room in which Barymon had
been the night before, the western window through which he
had stared so intently. Has I noticed one peculiarity. Above
(01:31):
all other windows in the house, it commands the nearest
outlook on the moor. There is an opening between two
trees which enables one from this point of view to
look right down upon it, while from all the other
windows it is only a distant glimpse which can be obtained.
It follows therefore that Barrimont, since only this window would
(01:54):
serve the purpose, must have been looking out for something
or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark,
so that I can hardly imagine how he could have
hoped to see anyone. It had struck me that it
was possible that some love intrigue was on foot. That
would have accounted for his stealthy movements, and also for
(02:16):
the uneasiness of his wife. The man is a striking
looking fellow, very well equipped to steal the heart of
a country girl, so that this theory seemed to have
something to support it. That opening of the door, which
I had heard after I returned to my room, might
mean that he had gone out to keep some clandestine appointment.
(02:38):
So I reasoned with myself in the morning, and I
tell you the direction of my suspicions. However much the
result may have shown that they were unfounded. But whenever
the true explanation of Barrymore's movements might be, I felt
that the responsibility of keeping them to myself until I
could explain them was more than I could bear. I
(03:01):
had an interview with the baronet in his study after breakfast,
and I told him all that I had seen. He
was less surprised than I had expected. I knew that
Barrymore walked about nights, and I had a mind to
speak to him about it. Said he, two or three
times I have heard his steps in the passage, coming
(03:22):
and going just about the hour you name. Perhaps then
he pays a visit every night to that particular window,
I suggested, Perhaps he does. If so, we should be
able to shadow him and see what it is that
he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmes would
do if he were here. I believe that he would
(03:45):
do exactly what you now suggest, said I. He would
follow Barrymore and see what he did. Then we shall
do it together. Oh but surely he would hear us.
The man is rather deaf, and in any case we
must take our chance of that. We'll sit up in
my room to night and wait until he passes. Sir
(04:08):
Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident
that he hailed the adventure as a belief to his
somewhat quiet life upon the moor. The Baronet has been
in communication with the architect who prepared the plans for
Sir Charles, and with a contractor from London, so that
we may expect great changes to begin here soon. There
(04:32):
have been decorators and furnishers up from Plymouth, and it
is evident that our friend has large ideas and means
to spare no pains or expense to restore the grandeur
of his family. When the house is renovated and refurnished,
all that he will need will be a wife to
make it complete. Between ourselves there are pretty clear signs
(04:55):
that this will not be wanting if the lady is willing.
For I have sel them seen a man more infatuated
with a woman than he is with our beautiful neighbor,
Miss Stapleton. And yet the course of true love does
not run quite as smoothly as one would under the
circumstances expect to day. For example, its surface was broken
(05:17):
by a very unexpected ripple, which has caused our friend
considerable perplexity and annoyance. After the conversation which I have
quoted about Barrymore, Sir Henry put on his hat and
prepared to go out. As a matter of course, I
did the same. What are you coming, Watson, he asked,
(05:40):
looking at me in a curious way. Or that depends
on whether you are going on the moor? Said I, yes,
I am well, you know what my instructions are. I
am sorry to intrude, but you heard how earnestly Holmes
insisted that I should not leave you, and actually that
(06:00):
you should not go alone upon the moor. Sir Henry
put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasant smile.
My dear fellow, said he Holmes, with all his wisdom,
did not foresee some things which have happened since I
have been on the moor. You understand me. I am
(06:22):
sure that you are the last man in the world
who would wished to be a spoil sport. I must
go out alone. It put me in a most awkward position.
I was at a loss what to say or what
to do. And before I made up my mind, he
picked up his cane and was gone. But when I
(06:42):
came to think the matter over, my conscience reproached me
bitterly for having, on any pretext allowed him to go
out of my sight. I imagine what my feelings would be
if I had to return to you and to confess
that some misfortune had occurred through my disregard for your instructions.
I assure you my cheeks flushed at the very thought.
(07:05):
It might not even now be too late to overtake him.
So I set off at once in the direction of
Merripit House. I hurried along the road at the top
of my speed, without seeing anything of Sir Henry, until
I came to the point where the moor path branches off. There,
fearing that perhaps I had come in the wrong direction
(07:28):
after all, I mounted a hill from which I could
command a view the same hill which is cut into
the dark quarry. Thence I saw him at once. He
was on the moor path, about a quarter of a
mile off, and a lady was by his side, who
could only be Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there
(07:49):
was already an understanding between them, and that they had
met by appointment. They were walking slowly along in deep conversation,
and I saw her making quick little movements of her hands,
as if she were very earnest in what she was saying,
while he listened intently, and once or twice shook his
head in strong descent. I stood among the rocks, watching them,
(08:15):
very much puzzled as to what I should do next.
To follow them and break into their intimate conversation seemed
to be an outrage, and yet my clear duty was
never for an instant to let him out of my sight.
To act the spy upon a friend was a hateful task. Still,
I could see no better course than to observe him
(08:37):
from the hill, and to clear my conscience by confessing
to him afterwards what I had done. It is true
that if any sudden danger had threatened him, I was
too far away to be of use. And yet I
am sure that you will agree with me that the
position was very difficult, and that there was nothing more
(08:58):
which I could do. Our friend, Sir Henry, and the
lady had halted on the path and were standing deeply
absorbed in their conversation. When I was suddenly aware that
I was not the only witness of their interview. A
wisp of green floating in the air caught my eye,
and another glance showed me that it was carried on
(09:20):
a stick by a man who was moving among the
broken ground. It was Stapleton with his butterfly net. He
was very much closer to the pair than I was,
and he appeared to be moving in their direction. At
this instant, Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side.
His arm was around her, but it seemed to me
(09:43):
that she was straining away from him, with her face averted.
He stooped his head to hers, and she raised one
hand as if in protest. Next moment I saw him
spring apart and turn hurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause
of the in He was running wildly towards them, his
(10:03):
absurd net dangling behind him. He gesticulated and almost danced
with excitement in front of the lovers. What the scene
meant I could not imagine, but it seemed to me
that Stapleton was abusing Sir Henry, who offered explanations, which
became more angry as the other refused to accept them.
(10:25):
The lady stood by in haughty silence. Finally Stapleton turned
upon his heel and beckoned in a peremptory way to
his sister, who, after an irresolute glance at Sir Henry
walked off by the side of her brother. The naturalist's
angry gestures showed that the lady was included in his displeasure.
(10:48):
The baronet stood for a minute looking after them, and
then he walked slowly back the way that he had come,
his head hanging the very picture of dejection. What all
this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply
ashamed to have witnessed so intimate a scene without my
(11:09):
friend's knowledge. I ran down the hill therefore, and met
the baronet at the bottom. His face was flushed with anger,
and his brows were wrinkled, like one who was at
his wits ends. What to do? Hullo, Watson, where have
you dropped from? Said he. You don't mean to say
(11:31):
that you came after me? In spite of all, I
explained everything to him, how I had found it impossible
to remain behind, how I had followed him, and how
I had witnessed all that had occurred. For an instant
his eyes blazed at me, but my frankness disarmed his anger,
(11:52):
and he broke at last into a rather rueful laugh.
You would have thought the middle of that prairie affair,
save place for a man to be private, said he.
But by thunder the whole countryside seems to have been
out to see me do my wooing, and a mighty
poor wooing at that? Where had you engaged a seat?
(12:16):
I was on that hill, quite in the back row, eh,
But her brother was well up to the front. Did
you see him come out on us? Yes? I did.
Did he ever strike you as being crazy? This brother
of hers? I can't say that he ever did. I
(12:37):
dare say not. I always thought him sane enough till
to day. But you can take it from me that
either he or I ought to be in a strait jacket.
What's the matter with me? Anyhow? You've lived near me
for some weeks? Watson? Tell me straight now? Is there
anything that would prevent me from making a good husband
(12:59):
to a woman that I? I should say not? He
can't object to my worldly position, so it must be
myself that he has this down on. What has he
against me? I never hurt man or woman in my
life that I know of, And yet he would not
(13:19):
so much as let me touch the tips of her fingers?
Did he says? So? That? And a deal more, I
tell you Watson. I've only known her these few weeks,
but from the first I just felt that she was
made for me, and she too. She was happy when
she was with me, and that I'll swear there's a
(13:43):
light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words.
But he has never let us get together. And it
is only today, for the first time that I saw
a chance of having a few words with her alone.
She was glad to meet me, but once she did,
it was not love that she would talk about, and
(14:03):
she wouldn't have let me talk about it either, if
she could have stopped it. She kept coming back to it,
that this was a place of danger and that she
would never be happy until I had left it. I
told her that since I had seen her, I was
in no hurry to leave it, and that if she
really wanted me to go, the only way to work
(14:25):
it was for her to arrange to go with me.
With that, I offered in as many words, to marry her.
But before she could answer down came this brother of
hers running at us with a face on him like
a madman. He was just white with rage, and those
light eyes of his were blazing with fury. What was
(14:48):
I doing with the lady. How dared I offer her
attentions which were distasteful to her? Did I think that
because I was a baronet I could do what I liked?
If he had not been her brother, I should have
known better how to answer him. As it was, I
told him that my feelings towards her sister were such
as I was not ashamed of, and that I hoped
(15:09):
that she might honor me by becoming my wife. That
seemed to make the matter no better. So then I
lost my temper too, and I answered him rather more
hotly than I should, perhaps considering that she was standing by.
So it ended by his going off with her, as
(15:29):
you saw, And here am I as badly puzzled a
man as any in this county. Just tell me what
it all means, Watson, and I owe you more than
ever I can hope to pay. I tried one or
two explanations, but indeed I was completely puzzled myself. Our
(15:51):
friend's title, his fortune, his age, his character, and his
appearance are all in his favor, and I know nothing
against him, as it be this dark fate which runs
in his family, that his advances should be rejected. So
brusquely without any reference to the lady's own wishes, and
that the lady should accept the situation without protest is
(16:13):
very amazing. However, our conjectures were set at rest by
a visit from Stapleton himself that very afternoon. He had
come to offer apologies for his rudeness of the morning,
and after a long private interview with Sir Henry in
his study, the upshot of their conversation was that the
(16:33):
breach is quite healed, and that we are to dine
at Merriport House next Friday as a sign of it.
I don't say now that he isn't a crazy man,
said Sir Henry. I can't forget the look in his
eyes when he ran at me this morning. But I
must allow that no man could make a more handsome
(16:54):
apology than he has done. Did he give any explanation
of his conduct. His sister is everything in his life,
he says. That is natural enough, and I am glad
that he should understand her value. They have always been together,
and according to his account, he has been a very
lonely man with only her as a companion, so that
(17:17):
the thought of losing her was really terrible to him.
He had not understood. He said that I was becoming
attached to her, But when he saw with his own
eyes that it was really so, and that she might
be taken away from him, it gave him such a
shock that for a time he was not responsible for
what he said or did. He was very sorry for
(17:40):
all that had passed, and he recognized how foolish and
how selfish it was that he could imagine that he
could hold a beautiful woman like his sister to himself
for her whole life. If she had to leave him,
he had rather it was to a neighbor like myself
than to any one else. But in any case, it
was a blow to him, and it would take him
(18:02):
some time before he could prepare himself to meet it.
He would withdraw all opposition upon his part if I
would promise for three months to let the matter rest,
and to be content with cultivating the lady's friendship during
that time without claiming her love. This I promised, and
so the matter rests. So there is one of our
(18:27):
small mysteries cleared up. It is something to have touched
bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering.
We know now why stable to look with disfavor upon
his sister's suitor, even when that suitor was so eligible
a one as Sir Henry. And now I pass on
to another thread which I have extricated out of the
(18:48):
tangled skein the mystery of the sobs in the night
of the tear stained face of Missus barrymore of the
secret journey of the butler to the western lattice window.
Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I
have not disappointed you as an agent, that you do
not regret the confidence which you showed in me when
(19:09):
you set me down. All these things have by one
night's work been thoroughly cleared. I have said by one
night's work, but in truth it was by two nights work.
For on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat
up with Sir Henry in his rooms until nearly three
(19:30):
o'clock in the morning, but no sound of any sort
did we hear, except the chiming clock upon the stairs.
It was a most melancholy vigil and ended by each
of us falling asleep in our chairs. Fortunately we were
not discouraged, and we determined to try again. The next night.
We lowered the lamp and sat smoking cigarettes without making
(19:54):
the least sound. It was incredible how slowly the hours
crawled by, and yet we were helped through it by
the same sort of patient interest which the hunter must
feel as he watches the trap into which he hopes
the game will wander. One struck and two, and we
had almost for the second time given it up in despair,
(20:17):
when in an instant we both sat bolt upright in
our chairs, with all our weary senses keenly on the alert.
Once more, we had heard the creak of a step
in the passage. Very stealthily, we heard it pass along
until it died away in the distance. Then the baronet
(20:38):
gently opened his door and we sat out in pursuit.
Already our man had gone round the gallery and the
corridor was all in darkness. Softly, we stole along until
we had come into the other wing. We were just
in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, black
bearded figure, his shoulders rounded as he tiptoed down the passage.
(21:02):
Then he passed through the same door as before, and
the light of the candle framed it in the darkness,
and shot one single yellow beam across the gloom of
the corridor. We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank
before we dared to put our whole weight upon it.
We had taken the precaution of leaving our boots behind us,
(21:24):
but even so the old boards snapped and creaked beneath
our tread. Sometimes it seemed impossible that he should fail
to hear our approach. However, the man is fortunately rather deaf,
and he was entirely preoccupied in that which he was doing.
When at last we reached the door and peeped through,
(21:47):
we found him crouching at the window, candle in hand,
his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly as
I had seen him two nights before. We had arranged
no plan of campaign, But the Baronet is a man
to whom the most direct way is always the most natural.
(22:07):
He walked into the room, and as he did so,
Barrymore sprang up from the window with a sharp hiss
of his breath, and stood livid and trembling before us.
His dark eyes glaring out of the white mask of
his face, were full of horror and astonishment as he
gazed from Sir Henry to me, what are you doing here? Barrymore, nothing, sir.
(22:32):
His agitation was so great that he could hardly speak,
and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking
of his candle. It was the window, sir. I go
round at night to see that they are fastened on
the second floor. Yes, sir, all the windows. Look here, Barrymore,
(22:54):
said sir Henry sternly. We have made up our minds
to have the truth out of you, so it will
save you trouble to tell it sooner rather than later.
Come now, no lies, What were you doing at that window?
The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and
he wrung his hands together, like one who was in
(23:16):
the last extremity of doubt and misery. I was doing
no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to the window.
And why were you holding a candle to the window.
Don't ask me, sir, Henry, don't ask me. I give
(23:37):
you my word, sir, that it is not my secret,
and that I cannot tell it. If it concerned no
one but myself, I would not try to keep it
from you. A sudden idea occurred to me, and I
took the candle from the trembling hand of the butler,
he must have been holding it as a signal, said
(23:58):
I us see if there is any answer. I held
it as he had done, and stared out into the
darkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern the black
bank of the trees and the lighter expanse of the moor,
for the moon was behind the clouds. And then I
gave a cry of exultation, for a tiny pinpoint of
(24:21):
yellow light had suddenly transfixed the dark veil and glowed
steadily in the center of the black square framed by
the window. There it is, I cried, No, no, sir,
it is nothing, nothing at all. The butler broke in.
I assure you, sir, move your light across the window.
Watson cried, the baronet see the other moves also. Now,
(24:46):
you rascal, do you deny that it is a signal?
Come speak up? Who is your confederate out yonder? And
what is this conspiracy that is going on? The man's
face became open, defiant. It is my business and not yours.
I will not tell. Then you leave my employment right away,
(25:11):
very good, sir. If I must, I must, and you
go in disgrace by thunder. You may well be ashamed
of yourself. Your family has lived with mine for over
a hundred years under this roof, and here I find
you deep in some dark plot against me. No, no, sir, no,
(25:33):
not against you. It was a woman's voice, and missus
barrymore paler and more horror struck than her husband, was
standing at the door. Her bunky figure in a shawl
and skirt might have been comic were it not for
the intensity of feeling upon her face. We have to go, Eliza,
(25:54):
this is the end of it. You can pack our things,
said the butler. Oh John, John, have I brought you
to this? It is my doing, Sir, Henry all mine.
He has done nothing except for my sake, And because
I asked him speak out. Then what does it mean?
(26:19):
My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot
let him perish at our very gates. The light is
a signal to him that food is ready for him,
and his light out yonder is to show the spot
to which to bring it. Then your brother is the
(26:40):
escaped convict, Sir Selden, the criminal. That's the truth, sir,
said Barrymore. I said that it was not my secret,
and that I could not tell it to you. But
now you have heard it, and you will see that
if there was a plot, it was not against you. This, then,
(27:01):
was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions at nights and
the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both
stared at the woman in amazement. Was it possible that
this stolidly respectable person was of the same blood as
one of the most notorious criminals in the country. Yes, sir,
(27:22):
my name is Selden, and he is my younger brother.
We humored him too much when he was a lad,
and gave him his own way and everything, until he
came to think that the world was made for his
pleasure and that he could do what he liked in it. Then,
as he grew older, he met wicked companions, and the
(27:45):
devil entered into him, until he broke my mother's heart
and dragged our name in the dirt. From crime to
crime he sank lower and lower, until it is only
the mercy of God which had snatched him from the scaffold.
But to me, Sir, he was always the little curly
(28:06):
headed boy that I had nursed and played with as
an elder sister. Would that is why he broke prison Sir,
he knew that I was here and that we could
not refuse to help him. When he dragged himself here
one night, weary and starving, with the warders hard at
his heels, what could we do? We took him in
(28:28):
and fed him and cared for him. Then you returned, sir,
and my brother thought he would be safer on the
moon than anywhere else until the hue and cry was over.
So he lay in hiding there. But every second night
we made sure if he was still there by putting
a light in the window, and if there was an answer,
(28:51):
my husband took out some bread and meat to him.
Every day we hoped that he was gone, But as
long as he was there, we could not desert him.
That is the whole truth. As I am an honest
Christian woman, and you will see that if there is
blame in the matter, it does not lie with my husband,
(29:12):
but with me, for whose sake he has done all
that he has. The woman's words came with an intense
earnestness which carried conviction with them. Is this true? Barrymore, yes, sir,
Henry every word of it. Well, I cannot blame you
(29:35):
for standing by your own wife forget what I have said.
Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk
further about this matter. In the morning, when they were gone,
we looked out of the window again. Sir Henry had
flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in
upon our faces. Far away, in the black distance, there
(29:58):
still glowed that one point of yellow light. I wonder,
he dares, said, Sir Henry, it may be so placed
as to be only visible from here. Very likely. How
far do you think it is out by the cleft tour?
I think not more than a mile or two off,
(30:22):
hardly that well, it cannot be far if barrymore had
to carry out the food to it, and he is
waiting this villain beside that candle by thunder, Watson, I
am going out to take that man. The same thought
had crossed my own mind. It was not as if
the Barymores had taken us into their confidence. Their secret
(30:45):
had been forced from them. The man was a danger
to the community, an unmitigated scoundrel for whom there was
neither pity nor excuse. We were only doing our duty
and taking this chance of putting him back where he
could do no harm with his brutal and violent nature.
Others would have to pay the price. If we held
(31:06):
our hands any night, For example, our neighbors, the Stapletons,
might be attacked by him. And it may have been
the thought of this which made Sir Henry so keen
upon the adventure by will come, said, I, then get
your revolver and put on your boots. The sooner we start,
the better. As the fellow mat put out his light
(31:28):
and be off. In five minutes we were outside the
door starting upon our expedition. We hurried through the dark shrubbery,
amid the dull moaning of the autumn wind and the
rustling of the falling leaves. The night air was heavy
with the smell of damp and decay. Now and again
(31:49):
the moon peeped out for an instant, but clouds were
driving over the face of the sky, and just as
we came out on the moor, a thin rain began
to fall. The light still burned steadily in front. Are
you armed, i asked, I have a hunting crop. We
must close in on him rapidly, for he is said
(32:12):
to be a desperate fellow. We shall take him by
surprise and have him at our mercy before he can
resist I say, Watson, said the baronet, What would Holmes
say to this? How about that hour of darkness in
which the power of evil is exalted? As if in
answer to his words, there rose suddenly out of the
(32:35):
vast gloom of the moor that strange cry which I
had already heard upon the borders of the great guimp
and Mire. It came with the wind through the silence
of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl,
and then the sad moan, in which it died away.
Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident,
(32:59):
wild and menacing. The baronet caught my sleeve, and his
face glimmered white through the darkness. My god, what's that, Watson?
I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor.
I heard it once before. It died away, and an
(33:19):
absolute silence closed in upon us. We stood, straining our ears,
but nothing came. Watson, said the baronet. It was the
cry of a hound. My blood ran cold in my veins,
for there was a break in his voice which told
(33:41):
of the sudden horror which had seized him. What do
they call this sound? He asked, Oh, the folk on
the country side. Ah, they are ignorant people. Why should
you mind what they call it? Tell me, Watson, what
do they say of it? I hesitated, but could not
(34:03):
escape the question. They say it is the cry of
the hound of the Baskervilles. He groaned and was silent
for a few moments. A hound, it was, he said
at last. But it seemed to come from miles away,
over yonder. I think it was hard to say whence
(34:25):
it came. It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't
that the direction of the great grimp and mire? Yes,
it is, well, it was up there. Come now, Watson.
Didn't you think yourself that it was the cry of
a hound? I am not a child. You need not
fear to speak the truth. Stapleton was with me when
(34:49):
I heard it last. He said that it might be
the calling of a strange bird. No, no, it was
a hound. My God? Can there be some truth in
all these stories? Is it possible that I am really
in danger from so dark a cause? You don't believe it,
(35:09):
do you, Watson? No? No? And yet it was one
thing to laugh about it in London, and it is
another to stand out here in the darkness of the moor,
and to hear such a cry as that, and my
uncle there was the footprint of the hound beside him
as he lay. It all fits together. I don't think
(35:33):
that I am a coward Watson, but that sound seems
to freeze my very blood. Feel my hand, it was
as cold as a block of marble. You'll be all
right tomorrow. I don't think that I'll get that cry
out of my head. What do you advise that we
(35:55):
do now? Oh? Shall we turn back? No, I thunder.
We have come out to get our men, and we
will do it. We after the convict, and a hell
hound as likely as not after us. Come on, we'll
see it through. If all the fiends of the pit
(36:15):
were loose upon the moor. We stumbled slowly along in
the darkness, with the black loom of the craggy hills
around us, and the yellow speck of light burning steadily
in front. There is nothing so deceptive as the distance
of a light upon a pitch dark night. And sometimes
the glimmer seemed to be far away upon the horizon,
(36:38):
and sometimes it might have been within a few yards
of us. But at last we could see whence it came,
And then we knew that we were indeed very close.
A guttering candle was stuck in a crevice of the
rocks which flanked it on each side, so as to
keep the wind from it, and also to prevent it
from being visible save in the direct of Baskerville Hall.
(37:02):
A boulder of granite concealed our approach, and crouching behind it,
we gazed over it at the signal light. It was
strange to see this single candle burning there in the
middle of the moor, with no sign of life near it,
just the one straight yellow flame and the gleam of
the rock on each side of it. What shall we
(37:25):
do now, whispered Sir Henry. Wait here, he must be
near his light. Let us see if we can get
a glimpse of him. My words were hardly out of
my mouth when we both saw him. Over the rocks.
In the crevice of which the candle burned, there was
thrust out an evil yellow face, a terrible animal face,
(37:49):
all seamed and scored with vile passions, foul with mire,
with a bristling beard, and hung with matted hair. It
might well have belonged to one of those old savages
who dwelt in the burrows on the hillsides. The light
beneath him was reflected in his small, cunning eyes, which
peered fiercely to right and left through the darkness, like
(38:12):
a crafty and savage animal who has heard the steps
of the hunters. Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It
may have been that Barrymore had some private signal which
he had neglected to give, or the fellow may have
had some other reason for thinking that all was not well.
But I could read his fears upon his wicked face.
(38:36):
Any instant he might dash out of the light and
vanish in the darkness. I sprang forward therefore, and Sir
Henry did the same. At the same moment, the convict
screamed out a curse at us, and hurled a rock,
which splintered up against the boulder which had sheltered us.
I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, strongly built
(38:59):
figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run.
At the same moment, by a lucky chance, the moon
broke through the clouds. We rushed over the brow of
the hill, and there was our man running with great
speed on the other side, springing over the stones in
his way with the activity of a mountain goat. A
(39:21):
lucky long shot of my revolver might have crippled him,
but I had brought it only to defend myself if attacked,
and not to shoot an unarmed man who was running away.
We were both swift runners and in fairly good training,
but we soon found that we had no chance of
overtaking him. We saw him for a long time in
(39:42):
the moonlight, until he was only a small speck moving
swiftly among the boulders upon the side of a distant hill.
We ran and ran until we were completely blown, but
the space between us grew ever wider. Finally we stopped
and sat panting on two rocks, where we watched him
(40:02):
disappearing in the distance. And it was at this moment
that there occurred a most strange and unexpected thing. We
had risen from our rocks and were turning to go home,
having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was low upon
the rights, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor
(40:22):
stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc. There,
outlined as black as an ebony statue, on that shining background,
I saw the figure of a man upon the tour.
Do not think it was a delusion, Holmes, I assure
you that I have never in my life seen anything more. Clearly,
(40:44):
as far as I could judge, the figure was that
of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legs
a little separated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as
if he were brooding over that enormous wilderness of peat
and granite which lay before him. He might have been
the very spirit of that terrible place. It was not
(41:06):
the convict. This man was far from the place where
the latter had disappeared. Besides, he was a much taller man.
With a cry of surprise, I pointed him out to
the baronet, But in the instant during which I had
turned to grasp his arm, the man was gone. There
was the sharp pinnacle of granite still cutting the lower
(41:27):
edge of the moon, but its peak bore no trace
of that silent and motionless figure. I wished to go
in that direction and to search the tour, but it
was some distance away. The baronet's nurse were still quivering
from that cry, which recalled the dark story of his family,
and he was not in the mood for fresh advengures.
(41:50):
He had not seen this lonely man upon the tour,
and could not feel the thrill which his strange presence
and his commanding attitude had given to me. The warder,
no doubt, said he, The moor has been thick with
them since this fellow escaped. Well, perhaps his explanation may
be the right one, but I should like to have
(42:11):
some for the proof of it. To day we mean
to communicate to the Provincetown people where they should look
for their missing man. But it is hard lines that
we have not actually had the triumph of bringing him
back as our own prisoner. Such are the adventures of
last night. And you must acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that
(42:32):
I have done you very well in the matter of
a report. Much of what I tell you is no
doubt quite irrelevant. But still I feel that it is
best that I should let you have all the facts
and leave you to select for yourself those which will
be of most service to you in helping you to
your conclusions. We are certainly making some progress so far
(42:55):
as the Barrymores go. We have found the motive of
their actions, and that cleared up the situation very much.
But the more with its mysteries and its strange inhabitants,
remains as inscrutable as ever. Perhaps in my next I
may be able to throw some light upon this also.
(43:16):
Best of all, would it be if you could come
down to us. In any case, you will hear from
me again in the course of the next few days.
End of Chapter nine.
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