11 - The Man on the Tor. The Hound of The Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

11 - The Man on the Tor. 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.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Chapter eleven of The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Bob Neufeld, Chapter eleven, The Man on the Tour.
The extract from my private diary which forms the last chapter,

(00:23):
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 time.

(00:44):
I start then, 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 moor was

(01:04):
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 for

(01:27):
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

(01:49):
be better. The more formal we made the visits, the
less information we might obtain. I left Sir Henry behind therefore,
not without some pricklings of conscience, and drove off upon
my new quest. When I reached Coombe Tracey, I told
Perkins to put up the horses, and I made inquiries

(02:10):
for the lady whom I had come to interrogate. I
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

(02:33):
saw that I was a stranger, and she sat down
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

(02:58):
at the heart of the sulfur room. 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
marred its perfect beauty. But these, of course are afterthoughts.

(03:22):
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 it until that instant. How delicate
my mission was. I had the pleasure, said I, of
knowing your father. It was a clumsy introduction, and the

(03:44):
lady made me feel it. There is nothing in common
between my father and me. 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.
I might have starved for all that my father cared.

(04:04):
It was about the late Sir Charles Baskerville 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. Oh you knew him, did you not?
I have already said that I owe a great deal

(04:26):
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. The object is to avoid a public scandal.

(04:51):
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 do very pale. At last, she
looked up with something reckless and defiant in her manner. Well,
I'll answer, she said, What are your questions? Did you

(05:14):
correspond with Sir Charles? I certainly wrote to him once
or twice to acknowledge his delicacy and his generosity. Have
you the dates of those letters? No? Have you ever
met him? Yes, once or twice when he came to
Coombe Tracy. He was a very retiring man, and he

(05:36):
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 sad history and united help me. One

(06:01):
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 the lady's statement bore the impress of truth upon it.

(06:23):
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 answer, certainly not not.

(06:45):
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 your letter.

(07:07):
It ran. Please please, as you are a gentleman, burn
this letter and be at the gate by ten o'clock.
I thought 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. He did

(07:32):
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

(07:52):
ashamed of it. I wished him to help me. I
believed 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 learned
that he was going to London next day and might
be away for months. There are reasons why I could
not get there earlier, but by a rendezvous in the

(08:16):
garden instead of a visit to 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 Lyons. No, I swear it to you,
on all I hold sacred. I never went. Something intervened

(08:39):
to prevent my going. What was that? That is a
private matter. I cannot tell it. You acknowledge 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.

(09:01):
Again and again I cross questioned. But I could never
get past that point, Missus Lyons, said I as I
rose from this long and inclusive interview. You are taking
a very great responsibility and putting yourself in a very
false position by not making an absolutely clean breast of

(09:22):
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, why did you,
in the first instance deny having written to Sir Charles
upon that date, because I feared that some false conclusion

(09:43):
might be drawn front, 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 did not say
that I had read all the let you quoted some
of it. I quoted the PostScript. The letter had, as

(10:06):
I said, been burned, and it was not all legible.
I ask you once again why it was that you
are so pressing that Sir Charles should destroy this letter,
which he received on the day of his death. The
matter is a very private one. The more reason why
you should avoid a public investigation. I will tell you. Then,

(10:32):
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 heard so much. My
life has been one incessant persecution from a husband whom
I abhor. The law is upon his side, and every

(10:53):
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 meant everything to me,
peace of mind, happiness, self respect, everything. I knew Sir

(11:19):
Charles's generosity, and I thought that if he heard the
story from my lips, he would help me. Then how
is it that you did not go because I received
help in the interval from another source? Why then did
you not write to Sir Charles and explain this so

(11:40):
I should have done had I not seen his death
in the paper 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 at or about the

(12:00):
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 could 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,

(12:22):
that she was 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

(12:44):
her manner, the more 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
forced 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

(13:04):
have me believe. For 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 showed traces of the ancient people.

(13:29):
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, that then should be the

(13:51):
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 might slip away from us in

(14:13):
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 be a triumph for me if I

(14:36):
could run him to Earth where my master had failed.
Lucke 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

(14:59):
gate of his garden, which opened onto the high road
along which I traveled. Good day, mister 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 to congratulate. My feelings towards him were very

(15:19):
far from being friendly, after what I had heard of
his treatment of his daughter. But I was anxious to
send packins in the wagon at home, and the opportunity
was a good one. I alighted and sent a message
to Sir Henry that I should walk over in time
for dinner. Then I followed Franklin into his dining room.

(15:41):
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
mean to teach them in those 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

(16:03):
way through the center of Old Middleton's Park, slap across
at Sir, within a hundred yards of his own front door.
What do you think of that? We'll teach these magnets
that they cannot ride rough shod over the rights of
the commoners confound them. And I've closed the wood where

(16:23):
the fern where they folk used to picnic. These infernal
people seem to think that there 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 Morlan for drespass because

(16:47):
he was shot in his old warren. How on earth
did you do that? Look it up in the books, sir.
It will repay reading Franklin versus Morland of Queen's Bench.
It cost me two hundred pounds, but I got my verdict.
Did it do any good? None, sir none. I am

(17:12):
proud to say that I had no interest in the matter.
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,

(17:36):
and it has not afforded me the protection to which
I am entitled. The case of Franklin versus Regina will
bring the matter before the attention of the public. I
told them that they would have occasion to regret their
treatment of me, and already my words have come true. Wow,
so I asked the old man, put on a very

(17:58):
knowing expression, because I could tell them what they 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

(18:20):
nature of the old sinner to understand that any strong
sign of interest would be the surest way to stop
his confidences. Some poaching case, no doubt, said I, with
an indifferent manner. Ha, ha, my boy, A very much
more important matter than that. What about the convict? On

(18:41):
the more I started, You don't mean that you know
where he is? Said I, my 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

(19:03):
food and so trace it to him. He certainly seemed
to be getting uncomfortably near the truth, no doubt, said I,
But how do you know that he is anywhere? Upon
the moor. I know it because I have seen with
my own eyes the messenger who takes him his food.

(19:24):
My heart sank for Barrymore. It was a serious thing
to be in the power of this spiteful, old, busybody.
But TI next remark took a weight from my mind.
You be surprised to hear that his food is taken
to him by a child. I see him every day

(19:44):
through my telescope upon the roof. He passes along the
same path at the same hour. And to whom should
he be going except to the convict. Here was luck, indeed,
And yet I suppressed all appearing of interest a child.
Barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied by a boy.

(20:07):
It was on his track, and not upon the convicts
that Franklin had stumbled. If I could get his knowledge,
it might save me a long and weary hunt. But
incredulity and indifference were evidently my strongest card. I should
say that it was much more likely that it was

(20:28):
the son of one of the Moorland shepherds taking out
his father's dinner. The least appearance of opposition struck fire
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

(20:50):
you see that black tor over yander? Well? Do you
see the low hill beyond with the thorn bush upon it?
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.

(21:11):
I meekly answered that I had spoken without knowing all
the facts. My submission pleased him and led him to
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

(21:32):
every day, and sometimes twice a day. I have been able.
But wait a moment, doctor Watson. Do my eyes deceive me?
Or is there, at the present moment something moving upon
that hillside? It was several miles off, but I could

(21:52):
distinctly see a small dark dot against the dull green
and gray. Come, sir, come, cried Franklin, rushing upstairs. You
will see with your own 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

(22:14):
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 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

(22:35):
outlined for an instant against the cold blue sky. He
looked round him with a furtive and stealthy air, as
one who dreads pursuits. 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

(22:57):
even a county constable could guess. But not one word
shall they have from me? And I bind you to secrecy, also,
doctor Watson, not a word, you understand, just as you wish.
They have treated me shamefully, shamefully when the facts come

(23:17):
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 cared, it might have been me instead
of my effigy, which these rascals burned at the stake.
Surely you're not going. You will help me to empty

(23:41):
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
the road as long as his eye was on me,
and then I struck off, crossed the moor, and made

(24:01):
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
in my way. The sun was already sinking when I
reached the summit of the hill, and the long slopes

(24:22):
beneath me were all gold and green on one side,
and gray shadow on the other. A haze lay low
upon the farther sky line, out of which jutted the
fantastic shapes of Belliver and Vixen tore over the wide expanse.
There was no sound, no movement. One great gray bird,

(24:44):
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 of loneliness, and
the mystery an urgency of my task all struck a
chill into my heart. The boy was nowhere to be seen,

(25:08):
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 screen against the weather.
My heart leaped within me as I saw it. This
must be the burrow where the stranger lurked. At last,

(25:30):
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 would do when with the
poised net he drew near the settled butterfly, I satisfied
myself that the place had indeed been used as a habitation.

(25:51):
A vague pathway among the boulders led to the dilapidated opening,
which served as a door. All was silent within. The
unknown might be lurking there, or he might be prowling
the moor. My nerves tingled with the sense of adventure.
Throwing aside my cigarette, I closed my hand upon the

(26:13):
butt of my revolver, and walking swiftly up to the door,
I looked in. The place was empty, but there were
ample signs 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

(26:37):
which neolithic man had once slumbered. The ashes of a
fire were heaped in a rude grate. Beside it lay
some cooking utensils and a bucket half full of water.
A linner 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

(26:59):
a half full bottle of spirits standing in the corner.
In 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 boar.
It contained a loaf of bread, a tinned tongue, and

(27:21):
two tins of preserved peaches. As I set it down again,
after having examined it. My heart leaped 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.

(27:45):
For a minute I stood there with the paper in
my hands, thinking out 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

(28:10):
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
net drawn round us, with infinite skill and delicacy, holding
us so lightly that it was only at some supreme
moment that one realized that one was indeed entangled in

(28:32):
its meshes. If there was one report, there might be others.
So I looked round the huts 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 spartan habits

(28:54):
and care 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?

(29:16):
I swore that I would not leave the huts until
I knew outside. The sun was sinking low, 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 grimp and mire. There were the two
towers of Baskerville Hall, and there a distant blur of

(29:39):
smoke which marked the village of Grimpen. Between the two,
behind the hill was the house of the Stapletons. All
were sweet and mellow and peaceful in the golden evening light.
And yet as I looked at them, my soul shared
none of the peace of nature, but quivered at the
vagueness and the terror of that interview which every instant

(30:02):
was bringing nearer. With tingling nerves but a fixed purpose,
I sat in the dark recess of the hut and
waited with somber patience for the coming of its tenant.
And then at last I heard him. Far away came
the sharp clink of a boot striking upon a stone,

(30:25):
then another, and yet another, coming nearer and nearer. I
shrank back into the darkest corner and cocked the pistol
in my pocket, determined not to discover myself until I
had an opportunity of seeing something of the stranger. There
was a long pause which showed that he had stopped.

(30:47):
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. I really
think that you will be more comfortable outside than in
end of chapter eleven.