ButwhenIcametothinkthematterovermyconsciencereproachedmebitterlyforhavingonanypretextallowedhimtogooutofmysight。
IimaginedwhatmyfeelingswouldbeifIhadtoreturntoyouandtoconfessthatsomemisfortunehadoccurredthroughmydisregardforyourinstructions。
Iassureyoumycheeksflushedattheverythought。Itmightnotevennowbetoolatetoovertakehim，soIsetoffatonceinthedirectionofMerripitHouse。
IhurriedalongtheroadatthetopofmyspeedwithoutseeinganythingofSirHenry，untilIcametothepointwherethemoorpathbranchesoff。There，fearingthatperhapsIhadcomeinthewrongdirectionafterall，ImountedahillfromwhichIcouldcommandaview—thesamehillwhichiscutintothedarkquarry。ThenceIsawhimatonce。Hewasonthemoorpathaboutaquarterofamileoff，andaladywasbyhissidewhocouldonlybeMissStapleton。Itwasclearthattherewasalreadyanunderstandingbetweenthemandthattheyhadmetbyappointment。Theywerewalkingslowlyalongindeepconversation，andIsawhermakingquicklittlemovementsofherhandsasifshewereveryearnestinwhatshewassaying，whilehelistenedintently，andonceortwiceshookhisheadinstrongdissent。Istoodamongtherockswatchingthem，verymuchpuzzledastowhatIshoulddonext。Tofollowthemandbreakintotheirintimateconversationseemedtobeanoutrage，andyetmycleardutywasneverforaninstanttolethimoutofmysight。Toactthespyuponafriendwasahatefultask。Still，Icouldseenobettercoursethantoobservehimfromthehill，andtoclearmyconsciencebyconfessingtohimafterwardswhatI
haddone。ItistruethatifanysuddendangerhadthreatenedhimIwastoofarawaytobeofuse，andyetIamsurethatyouwillagreewithmethatthepositionwasverydifficult，andthattherewasnothingmorewhichIcoulddo。
Ourfriend，SirHenry，andtheladyhadhaltedonthepathandwerestandingdeeplyabsorbedintheirconversation，whenIwassuddenlyawarethatIwasnottheonlywitnessoftheirinterview。Awispofgreenfloatingintheaircaughtmyeye，andanotherglanceshowedmethatitwascarriedonastickbyamanwhowasmovingamongthebrokenground。
ItwasStapletonwithhisbutterfly—net。HewasverymuchclosertothepairthanIwas，andheappearedtobemovingintheirdirection。AtthisinstantSirHenrysuddenlydrewMissStapletontohisside。Hisarmwasroundher，butitseemedtomethatshewasstrainingawayfromhimwithherfaceaverted。Hestoopedhisheadtohers，andsheraisedonehandasifinprotest。NextmomentIsawthemspringapartandturnhurriedlyround。Stapletonwasthecauseoftheinterruption。Hewasrunningwildlytowardsthem，hisabsurdnetdanglingbehindhim。Hegesticulatedandalmostdancedwithexcitementinfrontofthelovers。WhatthescenemeantIcouldnotimagine，butitseemedtomethatStapletonwasabusingSirHenry，whoofferedexplanations，whichbecamemoreangryastheotherrefusedtoacceptthem。Theladystoodbyinhaughtysilence。FinallyStapletonturneduponhisheelandbeckonedinaperemptorywaytohissister，who，afteranirresoluteglanceatSirHenry，walkedoffbythesideofherbrother。Thenaturalist’sangrygesturesshowedthattheladywasincludedinhisdispleasure。Thebaronetstoodforaminutelookingafterthem，andthenhewalkedslowlybackthewaythathehadcome，hisheadhanging，theverypictureofdejection。
WhatallthismeantIcouldnotimagine，butIwasdeeplyashamedtohavewitnessedsointimateascenewithoutmyfriend’sknowledge。I
randownthehillthereforeandmetthebaronetatthebottom。Hisfacewasflushedwithangerandhisbrowsvwerewrinkled，likeonewhoisathiswit’sendswhattodo。
`Halloa，Watson！Wherehaveyoudroppedfrom？’saidhe。`Youdon’tmeantosaythatyoucameaftermeinspiteofall？’
Iexplainedeverythingtohim：howIhadfounditimpossibletoremainbehind，howIhadfollowedhim，andhowIhadwitnessedallthathadoccurred。Foraninstanthiseyesblazedatme，butmyfranknessdisarmedhisanger，andhebrokeatlastintoaratherruefullaugh。
`Youwouldhavethoughtthemiddleofthatprairieafairlysafeplaceforamantobeprivate，’saidhe，`but，bythunder，thewholecountrysideseemstohavebeenouttoseemedomywooing—andamightypoorwooingatthat！Wherehadyouengagedaseat？’
`Iwasonthathill。’
`Quiteinthebackrow，eh？Butherbrotherwaswelluptothefront。Didyouseehimcomeoutonus？’
`Yes，Idid。’
`Didheeverstrikeyouasbeingcrazy—thisbrotherofhers？’
`Ican’tsaythatheeverdid。’
`Idaresaynot。Ialwaysthoughthimsaneenoughuntilto—day，butyoucantakeitfrommethateitherheorIoughttobeinastraitjacket。
What’sthematterwithme，anyhow？You’velivednearmeforsomeweeks，Watson。Tellmestraight，now！IsthereanythingthatwouldpreventmefrommakingagoodhusbandtoawomanthatIloved？’
`Ishouldsaynot。’
`Hecan’tobjecttomyworldlyposition，soitmustbemyselfthathehasthisdownon。Whathasheagainstme？IneverhurtmanorwomaninmylifethatIknowof。Andyethewouldnotsomuchasletmetouchthetipsofherfingers。’
`Didhesayso？’
`That，andadealmore。Itellyou，Watson，I’veonlyknownherthesefewweeks，butfromthefirstIjustfeltthatshewasmadeforme，andshe，too—shewashappywhenshewaswithme，andthatI’llswear。
There’salightinawoman’seyesthatspeakslouderthanwords。Buthehasneverletusgettogetheranditwasonlyto—dayforthefirsttimethatIsawachanceofhavingafewwordswithheralone。Shewasgladtomeetme，butwhenshediditwasnotlovethatshewouldtalkabout，andshewouldn’thaveletmetalkaboutiteitherifshecouldhavestoppedit。Shekeptcomingbacktoitthatthiswasaplaceofdanger，andthatshewouldneverbehappyuntilIhadleftit。ItoldherthatsinceIhadseenherIwasinnohurrytoleaveit，andthatifshereallywantedmetogo，theonlywaytoworkitwasforhertoarrangetogowithme。WiththatIofferedinasmanywordstomarryher，butbeforeshecouldanswer，downcamethisbrotherofhers，runningatuswithafaceonhimlikeamadman。Hewasjustwhitewithrage，andthoselighteyesofhiswereblazingwithfury。WhatwasIdoingwiththelady？HowdaredIofferherattentionswhichweredistastefultoher？DidIthinkthatbecauseIwasabaronetIcoulddowhatIliked？IfhehadnotbeenherbrotherIshouldhaveknownbetterhowtoanswerhim。AsitwasItoldhimthatmyfeelingstowardshissisterweresuchasIwasnotashamedof，andthatIhopedthatshemighthonourmebybecomingmywife。Thatseemedtomakethematternobetter，sothenIlostmytempertoo，andIansweredhimrathermorehotlythanIshouldperhaps，consideringthatshewasstandingby。Soitendedbyhisgoingoffwithher，asyousaw，andhereamIasbadlypuzzledamanasanyinthiscounty。Justtellmewhatitallmeans，Watson，andI’lloweyoumorethaneverIcanhopetopay。’
Itriedoneortwoexplanations，but，indeed，Iwascompletelypuzzledmyself。Ourfriend’stitle，hisfortune，hisage，hischaracter，andhisappearanceareallinhisfavour，andIknownothingagainsthimunlessitbethisdarkfatewhichrunsinhisfamily。Thathisadvancesshouldberejectedsobrusquelywithoutanyreferencetothelady’sownwishesandthattheladyshouldacceptthesituationwithoutprotestisveryamazing。However，ourconjecturesweresetatrestbyavisitfromStapletonhimselfthatveryafternoon。Hehadcometoofferapologiesforhisrudenessofthemorning，andafteralongprivateinterviewwithSirHenryinhisstudytheupshotoftheirconversationwasthatthebreachisquitehealed，andthatwearetodineatMerripitHousenextFridayasasignofit。
`Idon’tsaynowthatheisn’tacrazyman，’saidSirHenry`I
can’tforgetthelookinhiseyeswhenheranatmethismorning，butI
mustallowthatnomancouldmakeamorehandsomeapologythanhehasdone。’
`Didhegiveanyexplanationofhisconduct？’
`Hissisteriseverythinginhislife，hesays。Thatisnaturalenough，andIamgladthatheshouldunderstandhervalue。Theyhavealwaysbeentogether，andaccordingtohisaccounthehasbeenaverylonelymanwithonlyherasacompanion，sothatthethoughtoflosingherwasreallyterribletohim。Hehadnotunderstood，hesaid，thatIwasbecomingattachedtoher，butwhenhesawwithhisowneyesthatitwasreallyso，andthatshemightbetakenawayfromhim，itgavehimsuchashockthatforatimehewasnotresponsibleforwhathesaidordid。Hewasverysorryforallthathadpassed，andherecognizedhowfoolishandhowselfishitwasthatheshouldimaginethathecouldholdabeautifulwomanlikehissistertohimselfforherwholelife。Ifshehadtoleavehimhehadratheritwastoaneighbourlikemyselfthantoanyoneelse。Butinanycaseitwasablowtohimanditwouldtakehimsometimebeforehecouldpreparehimselftomeetit。HewouldwithdrawalloppositionuponhispartifI
wouldpromiseforthreemonthstoletthematterrestandtobecontentwithcultivatingthelady’sfriendshipduringthattimewithoutclaimingherlove。ThisIpromised，andsothematterrests。’
Sothereisoneofoursmallmysteriesclearedup。Itissomethingtohavetouchedbottomanywhereinthisboginwhichwearefloundering。
WeknownowwhyStapletonlookedwithdisfavouruponhissister’ssuitor—evenwhenthatsuitorwassoeligibleaoneasSirHenry。AndnowIpassontoanotherthreadwhichIhaveextricatedoutofthetangledskein，themysteryofthesobsinthenight，ofthetear—stainedfaceofMrs。
Barrymore，ofthesecretjourneyofthebutlertothewesternlatticewindow。
Congratulateme，mydearHolmes，andtellmethatIhavenotdisappointedyouasanagent—thatyoudonotregrettheconfidencewhichyoushowedinmewhenyousentmedown。Allthesethingshavebyonenight’sworkbeenthoroughlycleared。
Ihavesaid`byonenight’swork，’but，intruth，itwasbytwonights’work，foronthefirstwedrewentirelyblank。IsatupwithSirHenryinhisroomsuntilnearlythreeo’clockinthemorning，butnosoundofanysortdidwehearexceptthechimingclockuponthestairs。Itwasamostmelancholyvigilandendedbyeachofusfallingasleepinourchairs。
Fortunatelywewerenotdiscouraged，andwedeterminedtotryagain。Thenextnightweloweredthelampandsatsmokingcigaretteswithoutmakingtheleastsound。Itwasincrediblehowslowlythehourscrawledby，andyetwewerehelpedthroughitbythesamesortofpatientinterestwhichthehuntermustfeelashewatchesthetrapintowhichhehopesthegamemaywander。Onestruck，andtwo，andwehadalmostforthesecondtimegivenitupindespairwheninaninstantwebothsatboltuprightinourchairswithallourwearysenseskeenlyonthealertoncemore。Wehadheardthecreakofastepinthepassage。
Verystealthilywehearditpassalonguntilitdiedawayinthedistance。Thenthebaronetgentlyopenedhisdoorandwesetoutinpursuit。
Alreadyourmanhadgoneroundthegalleryandthecorridorwasallindarkness。Softlywestolealonguntilwehadcomeintotheotherwing。
Wewerejustintimetocatchaglimpseofthetall，black—beardedfigure，hisshouldersroundedashetiptoeddownthepassage。Thenhepassedthroughthesamedoorasbefore，andthelightofthecandleframeditinthedarknessandshotonesingleyellowbeamacrossthegloomofthecorridor。Weshuffledcautiouslytowardsit，tryingeveryplankbeforewedaredtoputourwholeweightuponit。Wehadtakentheprecautionofleavingourbootsbehindus，but，evenso，theoldboardssnappedandcreakedbeneathourtread。
Sometimesitseemedimpossiblethatheshouldfailtohearourapproach。
However，themanisfortunatelyratherdeaf，andhewasentirelypreoccupiedinthatwhichhewasdoing。Whenatlastwereachedthedoorandpeepedthroughwefoundhimcrouchingatthewindow，candleinhand，hiswhite，intentfacepressedagainstthepane，exactlyasIhadseenhimtwonightsbefore。
Wehadarrangednoplanofcampaign，butthebaronetisamantowhomthemostdirectwayisalwaysthemostnatural。Hewalkedintotheroom，andashedidsoBarrymoresprangupfromthewindowwithasharphissofhisbreathandstood，lividandtrembling，beforeus。Hisdarkeyes，glaringoutofthewhitemaskofhisface，werefullofhorrorandastonishmentashegazedfromSirHenrytome。
`Whatareyoudoinghere，Barrymore？’
`Nothing，sir。’Hisagitationwassogreatthathecouldhardlyspeak，andtheshadowssprangupanddownfromtheshakingofhiscandle。
`Itwasthewindow，sir。Igoroundatnighttoseethattheyarefastened。’
`Onthesecondfloor？’
`Yes，sir，allthewindows。’
`Lookhere，Barrymore，’saidSirHenrysternly，`wehavemadeupourmindstohavethetruthoutofyou，soitwillsaveyoutroubletotellitsoonerratherthanlater。Come，now！Nolies！Whatwereyoudoingatthatwindow？’
Thefellowlookedatusinahelplessway，andhewrunghishandstogetherlikeonewhoisinthelastextremityofdoubtandmisery。
`Iwasdoingnoharm，sir。Iwasholdingacandletothewindow。’
`Andwhywereyouholdingacandletothewindow？’
`Don’taskme，SirHenry—don’taskme！Igiveyoumyword，sir，thatitisnotmysecret，andthatIcannottellit。IfitconcernednoonebutmyselfIwouldnottrytokeepitfromyou。’
Asuddenideaoccurredtome，andItookthecandlefromthetremblinghandofthebutler。
`Hemusthavebeenholdingitasasignal，’saidI。`Letusseeifthereisanyanswer。’Ihelditashehaddone，andstaredoutintothedarknessofthenight。VaguelyIcoulddiscerntheblackbankofthetreesandthelighterexpanseofthemoor，forthemoonwasbehindtheclouds。AndthenIgaveacryofexultation，foratinypin—pointofyellowlighthadsuddenlytransfixedthedarkveil，andglowedsteadilyinthecentreoftheblacksquareframedbythewindow。
`Thereitis！’Icried。
`No，no，sir，itisnothing—nothingatall！’thebutlerbrokein;`Iassureyou，sir—’
`Moveyourlightacrossthewindow，Watson！’criedthebaronet。
`See，theothermovesalso！Now，yourascal，doyoudenythatitisasignal？
Come，speakup！Whoisyourconfederateoutyonder，andwhatisthisconspiracythatisgoingon？’
Theman’sfacebecameopenlydefiant。
`Itismybusiness，andnotyours。Iwillnottell。’
`Thenyouleavemyemploymentrightaway。’
`Verygood，sir。IfImustImust。’
`Andyougoindisgrace。Bythunder，youmaywellbeashamedofyourself。Yourfamilyhaslivedwithmineforoverahundredyearsunderthisroof，andhereIfindyoudeepinsomedarkplotagainstme。’
`No，no，sir;no，notagainstyou！’Itwasawoman’svoice，andMrs。Barrymore，palerandmorehorror—struckthanherhusband，wasstandingatthedoor。Herbulkyfigureinashawlandskirtmighthavebeencomicwereitnotfortheintensityoffeelinguponherface。
`Wehavetogo，Eliza。Thisistheendofit。Youcanpackourthings，’saidthebutler。
`Oh，John，John，haveIbroughtyoutothis？Itismydoing，SirHenry—allmine。HehasdonenothingexceptformysakeandbecauseI
askedhim。’
`Speakout，then！Whatdoesitmean？’
`Myunhappybrotherisstarvingonthemoor。Wecannotlethimperishatourverygates。Thelightisasignaltohimthatfoodisreadyforhim，andhislightoutyonderistoshowthespottowhichtobringit。’
`Thenyourbrotheris—’
`Theescapedconvict，sir—Selden，thecriminal。’
`That’sthetruth，sir，’saidBarrymore。`IsaidthatitwasnotmysecretandthatIcouldnottellittoyou。Butnowyouhaveheardit，andyouwillseethatiftherewasaplotitwasnotagainstyou。’
This，then，wastheexplanationofthestealthyexpeditionsatnightandthelightatthewindow。SirHenryandIbothstaredatthewomaninamazement。Wasitpossiblethatthisstolidlyrespectablepersonwasofthesamebloodasoneofthemostnotoriouscriminalsinthecountry？
`Yes，sir，mynamewasSelden，andheismyyoungerbrother。Wehumouredhimtoomuchwhenhewasaladandgavehimhisownwayineverythinguntilhecametothinkthattheworldwasmadeforhispleasure，andthathecoulddowhathelikedinit。Thenashegrewolderhemetwickedcompanions，andthedevilenteredintohimuntilhebrokemymother’sheartanddraggedournameinthedirt。FromcrimetocrimehesanklowerandloweruntilitisonlythemercyofGodwhichhassnatchedhimfromthescaffold;buttome，sir，hewasalwaysthelittlecurly—headedboythatIhadnursedandplayedwithasaneldersisterwould。Thatwaswhyhebrokeprison，sir。HeknewthatIwashereandthatwecouldnotrefusetohelphim。
Whenhedraggedhimselfhereonenight，wearyandstarving，withthewardershardathisheels，whatcouldwedo？Wetookhiminandfedhimandcaredforhim。Thenyoureturned，sir，andmybrotherthoughthewouldbesaferonthemoorthananywhereelseuntilthehueandcrywasover，sohelayinhidingthere。Buteverysecondnightwemadesureifhewasstilltherebyputtingalightinthewindow，andiftherewasananswermyhusbandtookoutsomebreadandmeattohim。Everydaywehopedthathewasgone，butaslongashewastherewecouldnotdeserthim。Thatisthewholetruth，asIamanhonestChristianwomanandyouwillseethatifthereisblameinthematteritdoesnotliewithmyhusbandbutwithme，forwhosesakehehasdoneallthathehas。’
Thewoman’swordscamewithanintenseearnestnesswhichcarriedconvictionwiththem。
`Isthistrue，Barrymore？’
`Yes，SirHenry。Everywordofit。’
`Well，Icannotblameyouforstandingbyyourownwife。ForgetwhatIhavesaid。Gotoyourroom，youtwo，andweshalltalkfurtheraboutthismatterinthemorning。’
Whentheyweregonewelookedoutofthewindowagain。SirHenryhadflungitopen，andthecoldnightwindbeatinuponourfaces。Farawayintheblackdistancetherestillglowedthatonetinypointofyellowlight。
`Iwonderhedares，’saidSirHenry。
`Itmaybesoplacedastobeonlyvisiblefromhere。’
`Verylikely。Howfardoyouthinkitis？’
`OutbytheCleftTor，Ithink。’
`Notmorethanamileortwooff。’
`Hardlythat。’
`Well，itcannotbefarifBarrymorehadtocarryoutthefoodtoit。Andheiswaiting，thisvillain，besidethatcandle。Bythunder，Watson，Iamgoingouttotakethatman！’
Thesamethoughthadcrossedmyownmind。ItwasnotasiftheBarrymoreshadtakenusintotheirconfidence。Theirsecrethadbeenforcedfromthem。Themanwasadangertothecommunity，anunmitigatedscoundrelforwhomtherewasneitherpitynorexcuse。Wewereonlydoingourdutyintakingthischanceofputtinghimbackwherehecoulddonoharm。Withhisbrutalandviolentnature，otherswouldhavetopaythepriceifweheldourhands。Anynight，forexample，ourneighbourstheStapletonsmightbeattackedbyhim，anditmayhavebeenthethoughtofthiswhichmadeSirHenrysokeenupontheadventure。
`Iwillcome，’saidI。
`Thengetyourrevolverandputonyourboots。Thesoonerwestartthebetter，asthefellowmayputouthislightandbeoff。’
Infiveminuteswewereoutsidethedoor，startinguponourexpedition。
Wehurriedthroughthedarkshrubbery，amidthedullmoaningoftheautumnwindandtherustleofthefallingleaves。Thenightairwasheavywiththesmellofdampanddecay。Nowandagainthemoonpeepedoutforaninstant，butcloudsweredrivingoverthefaceofthesky，andjustaswecameoutonthemoorathinrainbegantofall。Thelightstillburnedsteadilyinfront。
`Areyouarmed？’Iasked。
`Ihaveahunting—crop。’
`Wemustcloseinonhimrapidly，forheissaidtobeadesperatefellow。Weshalltakehimbysurpriseandhavehimatourmercybeforehecanresist。’
`Isay，Watson，’saidthebaronet，`whatwouldHolmessaytothis？
Howaboutthathourofdarknessinwhichthepowerofevilisexalted？’
AsifinanswertohiswordsthererosesuddenlyoutofthevastgloomofthemoorthatstrangecrywhichIhadalreadyhearduponthebordersofthegreatGrimpenMire。Itcamewiththewindthroughthesilenceofthenight，along，deepmutterthenarisinghowl，andthenthesadmoaninwhichitdiedaway。Againandagainitsounded，thewholeairthrobbingwithit，strident，wild，andmenacing。Thebaronetcaughtmysleeveandhisfaceglimmeredwhitethroughthedarkness。
`MyGod，what’sthat，Watson？’
`Idon’tknow。It’sasoundtheyhaveonthemoor。Ihearditoncebefore。’
Itdiedaway，andanabsolutesilenceclosedinuponus。Westoodstrainingourears，butnothingcame。
`Watson，’saidthebaronet，`itwasthecryofahound。’
Mybloodrancoldinmyveins，fortherewasabreakinhisvoicewhichtoldofthesuddenhorrorwhichhadseizedhim。
`Whatdotheycallthissound？’heasked。
`Who？’
`Thefolkonthecountryside。’
`Oh，theyareignorantpeople。Whyshouldyoumindwhattheycallit？’
`Tellme，Watson。Whatdotheysayofit？’
Ihesitatedbutcouldnotescapethequestion。
`TheysayitisthecryoftheHoundoftheBaskervilles。’
Hegroanedandwassilentforafewmoments。
`Ahounditwas，’hesaidatlast，`butitseemedtocomefrommilesaway，overyonder，Ithink。’
`Itwashardtosaywhenceitcame。’
`Itroseandfellwiththewind。Isn’tthatthedirectionofthegreatGrimpenMire？’
`Yes，itis。’
`Well，itwasupthere。Comenow，Watson，didn’tyouthinkyourselfthatitwasthecryofahound？
Iamnotachild。Youneednotfeartospeakthetruth。’
`StapletonwaswithmewhenIhearditlast。Hesaidthatitmightbethecallingofastrangebird。’
`No，no，itwasahound。MyGod，cantherebesometruthinallthesestories？IsitpossiblethatIamreallyindangerfromsodarkacause？Youdon’tbelieveit，doyou，Watson？’
`No，no。’
`AndyetitwasonethingtolaughaboutitinLondon，anditisanothertostandouthereinthedarknessofthemoorandtohearsuchacryasthat。Andmyuncle！Therewasthefootprintofthehoundbesidehimashelay。Itallfitstogether。Idon’tthinkthatIamacoward，Watson，butthatsoundseemedtofreezemyveryblood。Feelmyhand！’
Itwasascoldasablockofmarble。
`You’llbeallrightto—morrow。’
`Idon’tthinkI’llgetthatcryoutofmyhead。Whatdoyouadvisethatwedonow？’
`Shallweturnback？’
`No，bythunder;wehavecomeouttogetourman，andwewilldoit。Weaftertheconvict，andahell—hound，aslikelyasnot，afterus。Comeon！We’llseeitthroughifallthefiendsofthepitwerelooseuponthemoor。’
Westumbledslowlyalonginthedarkness，withtheblackloomofthecraggyhillsaroundus，andtheyellowspeckoflightburningsteadilyinfront。Thereisnothingsodeceptiveasthedistanceofalightuponapitch—darknight，andsometimestheglimmerseemedtobefarawayuponthehorizonandsometimesitmighthavebeenwithinafewyardsofus。
Butatlastwecouldseewhenceitcame，andthenweknewthatwewereindeedveryclose。Agutteringcandlewasstuckinacreviceoftherockswhichflankeditoneachsidesoastokeepthewindfromitandalsotopreventitfrombeingvisible，saveinthedirectionofBaskervilleHall。
Aboulderofgraniteconcealedourapproach，andcrouchingbehinditwegazedoveritatthesignallight。Itwasstrangetoseethissinglecandleburningthereinthemiddleofthemoor，withnosignoflifenearit—
justtheonestraightyellowflameandthegleamoftherockoneachsideofit。
`Whatshallwedonow？’whisperedSirHenry。
`Waithere。Hemustbenearhislight。Letusseeifwecangetaglimpseofhim。’
Thewordswerehardlyoutofmymouthwhenwebothsawhim。Overtherocks，inthecreviceofwhichthecandleburned，therewasthrustoutanevilyellowface，aterribleanimalface，allseamedandscoredwithvilepassions。Foulwithmire，withabristlingbeard，andhungwithmattedhair，itmightwellhavebelongedtooneofthoseoldsavageswhodweltintheburrowsonthehillsides。Thelightbeneathhimwasreflectedinhissmall，cunningeyeswhichpeeredfiercelytorightandleftthroughthedarknesslikeacraftyandsavageanimalwhohasheardthestepsofthehunters。
Somethinghadevidentlyarousedhissuspicions。ItmayhavebeenthatBarrymorehadsomeprivatesignalwhichwehadneglectedtogive，orthefellowmayhavehadsomeotherreasonforthinkingthatallwasnotwell，butIcouldreadhisfearsuponhiswickedface。Anyinstanthemightdashoutthelightandvanishinthedarkness。Isprangforwardtherefore，andSirHenrydidthesame。Atthesamemomenttheconvictscreamedoutacurseatusandhurledarockwhichsplinteredupagainsttheboulderwhichhadshelteredus。Icaughtoneglimpseofhisshort，squat，stronglybuiltfigureashesprangtohisfeetandturnedtorun。Atthesamemomentbyaluckychancethemoonbrokethroughtheclouds。Werushedoverthebrowofthehill，andtherewasourmanrunningwithgreatspeeddowntheotherside，springingoverthestonesinhiswaywiththeactivityofamountaingoat。Aluckylongshotofmyrevolvermighthavecrippledhim，butIhadbroughtitonlytodefendmyselfifattackedandnottoshootanunarmedmanwhowasrunningaway。
Wewerebothswiftrunnersandinfairlygoodtraining，butwesoonfoundthatwehadnochanceofovertakinghim。Wesawhimforalongtimeinthemoonlightuntilhewasonlyasmallspeckmovingswiftlyamongthebouldersuponthesideofadistanthill。Weranandranuntilwewerecompletelyblown，butthespacebetweenusgreweverwider。Finallywestoppedandsatpantingontworocks，whilewewatchedhimdisappearinginthedistance。
Anditwasatthismomentthatthereoccurredamoststrangeandunexpectedthing。Wehadrisenfromourrocksandwereturningtogohome，havingabandonedthehopelesschase。Themoonwaslowupontheright，andthejaggedpinnacleofagranitetorstoodupagainstthelowercurveofitssilverdisc。There，outlinedasblackasanebonystatueonthatshiningbackground，Isawthefigureofamanuponthetor。
Donotthinkthatitwasadelusion，Holmes。IassureyouthatIhaveneverinmylifeseenanythingmoreclearly。AsfarasIcouldjudge，thefigurewasthatofatall，thinman。Hestoodwithhislegsalittleseparated，hisarmsfolded，hisheadbowed，asifhewerebroodingoverthatenormouswildernessofpeatandgranitewhichlaybeforehim。Hemighthavebeentheveryspiritofthatterribleplace。Itwasnottheconvict。
Thismanwasfarfromtheplacewherethelatterhaddisappeared。Besides，hewasamuchtallerman。WithacryofsurpriseIpointedhimouttothebaronet，butintheinstantduringwhichIhadturnedtograsphisarmthemanwasgone。Therewasthesharppinnacleofgranitestillcuttingtheloweredgeofthemoon，butitspeakborenotraceofthatsilentandmotionlessfigure。
Iwishedtogointhatdirectionandtosearchthetor，butitwassomedistanceaway。Thebaronet’snerveswerestillquiveringfromthatcry，whichrecalledthedarkstoryofhisfamily，andhewasnotinthemoodforfreshadventures。Hehadnotseenthislonelymanuponthetorandcouldnotfeelthethrillwhichhisstrangepresenceandhiscommandingattitudehadgiventome。`Awarder，nodoubt，’saidhe。`Themoorhasbeenthickwiththemsincethisfellowescaped。’Well，perhapshisexplanationmaybetherightone，butIshouldliketohavesomefurtherproofofit。
To—daywemeantocommunicatetothePrincetownpeoplewheretheyshouldlookfortheirmissingman，butitishardlinesthatwehavenotactuallyhadthetriumphofbringinghimbackasourownprisoner。Sucharetheadventuresoflastnight，andyoumustacknowledge，mydearHolmes，thatIhavedoneyouverywellinthematterofareport。MuchofwhatItellyouisnodoubtquiteirrelevant，butstillIfeelthatitisbestthatIshouldletyouhaveallthefactsandleaveyoutoselectforyourselfthosewhichwillbeofmostservicetoyouinhelpingyoutoyourconclusions。
Wearecertainlymakingsomeprogress。SofarastheBarrymoresgowehavefoundthemotiveoftheiractions，andthathasclearedupthesituationverymuch。Butthemoorwithitsmysteriesanditsstrangeinhabitantsremainsasinscrutableasever。PerhapsinmynextImaybeabletothrowsomelightuponthisalso。Bestofallwoulditbeifyoucouldcomedowntous。Inanycaseyouwillhearfrommeagaininthecourseofthenextfewdays。
[NextChapter][TableofContents]ConanDoyle：TheHoundoftheBaskervilles10[TableofContents]Chapter10ExtractfromtheDiaryofDr。WatsonSofarIhavebeenabletoquotefromthereportswhichIhaveforwardedduringtheseearlydaystoSherlockHolmes。Now，however，IhavearrivedatapointinmynarrativewhereIamcompelledtoabandonthismethodandtotrustoncemoretomyrecollections，aidedbythediarywhichI
keptatthetime。Afewextractsfromthelatterwillcarrymeontothosesceneswhichareindeliblyfixedineverydetailuponmymemory。Iproceed，then，fromthemorningwhichfollowedourabortivechaseoftheconvictandourotherstrangeexperiencesuponthemoor。
October16th。Adullandfoggydaywithadrizzleofrain。
Thehouseisbankedinwithrollingclouds，whichrisenowandthentoshowthedrearycurvesofthemoor，withthin，silverveinsuponthesidesofthehills，andthedistantbouldersgleamingwherethelightstrikesupontheirwetfaces。Itismelancholyoutsideandin。Thebaronetisinablackreactionaftertheexcitementsofthenight。Iamconsciousmyselfofaweightatmyheartandafeelingofimpendingdanger—everpresentdanger，whichisthemoreterriblebecauseIamunabletodefineit。
AndhaveInotcauseforsuchafeeling？Considerthelongsequenceofincidentswhichhaveallpointedtosomesinisterinfluencewhichisatworkaroundus。ThereisthedeathofthelastoccupantoftheHall，fulfillingsoexactlytheconditionsofthefamilylegend，andtherearetherepeatedreportsfrompeasantsoftheappearanceofastrangecreatureuponthemoor。TwiceIhavewithmyownearsheardthesoundwhichresembledthedistantbayingofahound。Itisincredible，impossible，thatitshouldreallybeoutsidetheordinarylawsofnature。Aspectralhoundwhichleavesmaterialfootmarksandfillstheairwithitshowlingissurelynottobethoughtof。Stapletonmayfallinwithsuchasuperstition，andMortimeralso，butifIhaveonequalityuponearthitiscommonsense，andnothingwillpersuademetobelieveinsuchathing。Todosowouldbetodescendtothelevelofthesepoorpeasants，whoarenotcontentwithamerefienddogbutmustneedsdescribehimwithhell—fireshootingfromhismouthandeyes。Holmeswouldnotlistentosuchfancies，andIamhisagent。
Butfactsarefacts，andIhavetwiceheardthiscryinguponthemoor。
Supposethattherewerereallysomehugehoundlooseuponit;thatwouldgofartoexplaineverything。Butwherecouldsuchahoundlieconcealed，wherediditgetitsfood，wherediditcomefrom，howwasitthatnoonesawitbyday？Itmustbeconfessedthatthenaturalexplanationoffersalmostasmanydifficultiesastheother。Andalways，apartfromthehound，thereisthefactofthehumanagencyinLondon，themaninthecab，andtheletterwhichwarnedSirHenryagainstthemoor。Thisatleastwasreal，butitmighthavebeentheworkofaprotectingfriendaseasilyasofanenemy。Whereisthatfriendorenemynow？HasheremainedinLondon，orhashefollowedusdownhere？Couldhe—couldhebethestrangerwhomIsawuponthetor？
ItistruethatIhavehadonlytheoneglanceathim，andyettherearesomethingstowhichIamreadytoswear。HeisnoonewhomI
haveseendownhere，andIhavenowmetalltheneighbours。ThefigurewasfartallerthanthatofStapleton，farthinnerthanthatofFrankland。
Barrymoreitmightpossiblyhavebeen，butwehadlefthimbehindus，andIamcertainthathecouldnothavefollowedus。Astrangerthenisstilldoggingus，justasastrangerdoggedusinLondon。Wehavenevershakenhimoff。IfIcouldlaymyhandsuponthatman，thenatlastwemightfindourselvesattheendofallourdifficulties。TothisonepurposeImustnowdevoteallmyenergies。
MyfirstimpulsewastotellSirHenryallmyplans。Mysecondandwisestoneistoplaymyowngameandspeakaslittleaspossibletoanyone。Heissilentanddistrait。Hisnerveshavebeenstrangelyshakenbythatsounduponthemoor。Iwillsaynothingtoaddtohisanxieties，butIwilltakemyownstepstoattainmyownend。
Wehadasmallscenethismorningafterbreakfast。BarrymoreaskedleavetospeakwithSirHenry，andtheywereclosetedinhisstudysomelittletime。Sittinginthebilliard—roomImorethanonceheardthesoundofvoicesraised，andIhadaprettygoodideawhatthepointwaswhichwasunderdiscussion。Afteratimethebaronetopenedhisdoorandcalledforme。
`Barrymoreconsidersthathehasagrievance，’hesaid。`Hethinksthatitwasunfaironourparttohunthisbrother—in—lawdownwhenhe，ofhisownfreewill，hadtoldusthesecret。’
Thebutlerwasstandingverypalebutverycollectedbeforeus。
`Imayhavespokentoowarmly，sir，’saidhe，`andifIhave，IamsurethatIbegyourpardon。Atthesametime，IwasverymuchsurprisedwhenIheardyoutwogentlemencomebackthismorningandlearnedthatyouhadbeenchasingSelden。Thepoorfellowhasenoughtofightagainstwithoutmyputtingmoreuponhistrack。’
`Ifyouhadtoldusofyourownfreewillitwouldhavebeenadifferentthing，’saidthebaronet，`youonlytoldus，orratheryourwifeonlytoldus，whenitwasforcedfromyouandyoucouldnothelpyourself。’
`Ididn’tthinkyouwouldhavetakenadvantageofit，SirHenry—indeedIdidn’t。’
`Themanisapublicdanger。Therearelonelyhousesscatteredoverthemoor，andheisafellowwhowouldstickatnothing。Youonlywanttogetaglimpseofhisfacetoseethat。LookatMr。Stapleton’shouse，forexample，withnoonebuthimselftodefendit。There’snosafetyforanyoneuntilheisunderlockandkey。’
`He’llbreakintonohouse，sir。Igiveyoumysolemnworduponthat。Buthewillnevertroubleanyoneinthiscountryagain。Iassureyou，SirHenry，thatinaveryfewdaysthenecessaryarrangementswillhavebeenmadeandhewillbeonhiswaytoSouthAmerica。ForGod’ssake，sir，Ibegofyounottoletthepoliceknowthatheisstillonthemoor。
Theyhavegivenupthechasethere，andhecanliequietuntiltheshipisreadyforhim。Youcan’ttellonhimwithoutgettingmywifeandmeintotrouble。Ibegyou，sir，tosaynothingtothepolice。’
`Whatdoyousay，Watson？’
Ishruggedmyshoulders。`Ifheweresafelyoutofthecountryitwouldrelievethetax—payerofaburden。’
`Buthowaboutthechanceofhisholdingsomeoneupbeforehegoes？’
`Hewouldnotdoanythingsomad，sir。Wehaveprovidedhimwithallthathecanwant。Tocommitacrimewouldbetoshowwherehewashiding。’
`Thatistrue，’saidSirHenry。`Well，Barrymore—’
`Godblessyou，sir，andthankyoufrommyheart！Itwouldhavekilledmypoorwifehadhebeentakenagain。’
`Iguessweareaidingandabettingafelony，Watson？But，afterwhatwehaveheardIdon’tfeelasifIcouldgivethemanup，sothereisanendofit。Allright，Barrymore，youcango。’
Withafewbrokenwordsofgratitudethemanturned，buthehesitatedandthencameback。
`You’vebeensokindtous，sir，thatIshouldliketodothebestIcanforyouinreturn。Iknowsomething，SirHenry，andperhapsIshouldhavesaiditbefore，butitwaslongaftertheinquestthatI
founditout。I’veneverbreathedawordaboutityettomortalman。It’saboutpoorSirCharles’sdeath。’
ThebaronetandIwerebothuponourfeet。`Doyouknowhowhedied？’
`No，sir，Idon’tknowthat。’
`Whatthen？’
`Iknowwhyhewasatthegateatthathour。Itwastomeetawoman。’
`Tomeetawoman！He？’
`Yes，sir。’
`Andthewoman’sname？’
`Ican’tgiveyouthename，sir，butIcangiveyoutheinitials。
HerinitialswereL。L。’
`Howdoyouknowthis，Barrymore？’
`Well，SirHenry，yourunclehadaletterthatmorning。Hehadusuallyagreatmanyletters，forhewasapublicmanandwellknownforhiskindheart，sothateveryonewhowasintroublewasgladtoturntohim。Butthatmorning，asitchanced，therewasonlythisoneletter，soItookthemorenoticeofit。ItwasfromCoombeTracey，anditwasaddressedinawoman’shand。’
`Well？’
`Well，sir，Ithoughtnomoreofthematter，andneverwouldhavedonehaditnotbeenformywife。OnlyafewweeksagoshewascleaningoutSirCharles’sstudy—ithadneverbeentouchedsincehisdeath—andshefoundtheashesofaburnedletterinthebackofthegrate。Thegreaterpartofitwascharredtopieces，butonelittleslip，theendofapage，hungtogether，andthewritingcouldstillberead，thoughitwasgrayonablackground。Itseemedtoustobeapostscriptattheendoftheletteranditsaid：Please，please，asyouareagentleman，burnthisletter，andbeatthegatebytenoclock。BeneathitweresignedtheinitialsL。L。’
`Haveyougotthatslip？’
`No，sir，itcrumbledalltobitsafterwemovedit。’
`HadSirCharlesreceivedanyotherlettersinthesamewriting？’
`Well，sir，Itooknoparticularnoticeofhisletters。Ishouldnothavenoticedthisone，onlyithappenedtocomealone。’
`AndyouhavenoideawhoL。L。is？’
`No，sir。Nomorethanyouhave。ButIexpectifwecouldlayourhandsuponthatladyweshouldknowmoreaboutSirCharles’sdeath。’
`Icannotunderstand，Barrymore，howyoucametoconcealthisimportantinformation。’
`Well，sir，itwasimmediatelyafterthatourowntroublecametous。Andthenagain，sir，wewerebothofusveryfondofSirCharles，aswewellmightbeconsideringallthathehasdoneforus。Torakethisupcouldn’thelpourpoormaster，andit’swelltogocarefullywhenthere’saladyinthecase。Eventhebestofus—’
`Youthoughtitmightinjurehisreputation？’
`Well，sir，Ithoughtnogoodcouldcomeofit。Butnowyouhavebeenkindtous，andIfeelasifitwouldbetreatingyouunfairlynottotellyouallthatIknowaboutthematter。’
`Verygood，Barrymore;youcango。’WhenthebutlerhadleftusSirHenryturnedtome。`Well，Watson，whatdoyouthinkofthisnewlight？’
`Itseemstoleavethedarknessratherblackerthanbefore。’
`SoIthink。ButifwecanonlytraceL。L。itshouldclearupthewholebusiness。Wehavegainedthatmuch。Weknowthatthereissomeonewhohasthefactsifwecanonlyfindher。Whatdoyouthinkweshoulddo？’
`LetHolmesknowallaboutitatonce。Itwillgivehimtheclueforwhichhehasbeenseeking。Iammuchmistakenifitdoesnotbringhimdown。’
Iwentatoncetomyroomanddrewupmyreportofthemorning’sconversationforHolmes。Itwasevidenttomethathehadbeenverybusyoflate，forthenoteswhichIhadfromBakerStreetwerefewandshort，withnocommentsupontheinformationwhichIhadsuppliedandhardlyanyreferencetomymission。Nodoubthisblackmailingcaseisabsorbingallhisfaculties。Andyetthisnewfactormustsurelyarresthisattentionandrenewhisinterest。Iwishthathewerehere。
October17th。Alldayto—daytherainpoureddown，rustlingontheivyanddrippingfromtheeaves。Ithoughtoftheconvictoutuponthebleak，cold，shelterlessmoor。Poordevil！Whateverhiscrimes，hehassufferedsomethingtoatoneforthem。AndthenIthoughtofthatotherone—thefaceinthecab，thefigureagainstthemoon。Washealsooutinthatdeluged—theunseenwatcher，themanofdarkness？
IntheeveningIputonmywaterproofandIwalkedfaruponthesoddenmoor，fullofdarkimaginings，therainbeatinguponmyfaceandthewindwhistlingaboutmyears。Godhelpthosewhowanderintothegreatmirenow，foreventhefirmuplandsarebecomingamorass。IfoundtheblacktoruponwhichIhadseenthesolitarywatcher，andfromitscraggysummitIlookedoutmyselfacrossthemelancholydowns。
Rainsquallsdriftedacrosstheirrussetface，andtheheavy，slate—colouredcloudshunglowoverthelandscape，trailingingraywreathsdownthesidesofthefantastichills。Inthedistanthollowontheleft，halfhiddenbythemist，thetwothintowersofBaskervilleHallroseabovethetrees。TheyweretheonlysignsofhumanlifewhichIcouldsee，saveonlythoseprehistorichutswhichlaythicklyupontheslopesofthehills。
NowherewasthereanytraceofthatlonelymanwhomIhadseenonthesamespottwonightsbefore。
AsIwalkedbackIwasovertakenbyDr。Mortimerdrivinginhisdog—cartoveraroughmoorlandtrackwhichledfromtheoutlyingfarmhouseofFoulmire。Hehasbeenveryattentivetous，andhardlyadayhaspassedthathehasnotcalledattheHalltoseehowweweregettingon。Heinsisteduponmyclimbingintohisdog—cart，andhegavemealifthomeward。Ifoundhimmuchtroubledoverthedisappearanceofhislittlespaniel。Ithadwanderedontothemoorandhadnevercomeback。IgavehimsuchconsolationasImight，butIthoughtoftheponyontheGrimpenMire，andIdonotfancythathewillseehislittledogagain。
`Bytheway，Mortimer，’saidIaswejoltedalongtheroughroad，`Isupposetherearefewpeoplelivingwithindrivingdistanceofthiswhomyoudonotknow？’
`Hardlyany，Ithink。’
`Canyou，then，tellmethenameofanywomanwhoseinitialsareL。L。？’
Hethoughtforafewminutes。
`No，’saidhe。`ThereareafewgipsiesandlabouringfolkforwhomIcan’tanswer，butamongthefarmersorgentrythereisnoonewhoseinitialsarethose。Waitabitthough，’headdedafterapause。`ThereisLauraLyons—herinitialsareL。L。—butshelivesinCoombeTracey。’
`Whoisshe？’Iasked。
`SheisFrankland’sdaughter。’
`What！OldFranklandthecrank？’
`Exactly。ShemarriedanartistnamedLyons，whocamesketchingonthemoor。Heprovedtobeablackguardanddesertedher。ThefaultfromwhatIhearmaynothavebeenentirelyononeside。Herfatherrefusedtohaveanythingtodowithherbecauseshehadmarriedwithouthisconsentandperhapsforoneortwootherreasonsaswell。So，betweentheoldsinnerandtheyoungonethegirlhashadaprettybadtime。’
`Howdoesshelive？’
`IfancyoldFranklandallowsherapittance，butitcannotbemore，forhisownaffairsareconsiderablyinvolved。Whatevershemayhavedeservedonecouldnotallowhertogohopelesslytothebad。Herstorygotabout，andseveralofthepeopleheredidsomethingtoenablehertoearnanhonestliving。Stapletondidforone，andSirCharlesforanother。
Igaveatriflemyself。Itwastosetherupinatypewritingbusiness。’
Hewantedtoknowtheobjectofmyinquiries，butImanagedtosatisfyhiscuriositywithouttellinghimtoomuch，forthereisnoreasonwhyweshouldtakeanyoneintoourconfidence。To—morrowmorningIshallfindmywaytoCoombeTracey，andifIcanseethisMrs。LauraLyons，ofequivocalreputation，alongstepwillhavebeenmadetowardsclearingoneincidentinthischainofmysteries。Iamcertainlydevelopingthewisdomoftheserpent，forwhenMortimerpressedhisquestionstoaninconvenientextentIaskedhimcasuallytowhattypeFrankland’sskullbelonged，andsoheardnothingbutcraniologyfortherestofourdrive。IhavenotlivedforyearswithSherlockHolmesfornothing。
Ihaveonlyoneotherincidenttorecorduponthistempestuousandmelancholyday。ThiswasmyconversationwithBarrymorejustnow，whichgivesmeonemorestrongcardwhichIcanplayinduetime。
Mortimerhadstayedtodinner，andheandthebaronetplayedécarté
afterwards。Thebutlerbroughtmemycoffeeintothelibrary，andItookthechancetoaskhimafewquestions。
`Well，’saidI，`hasthispreciousrelationofyoursdeparted，orishestilllurkingoutyonder？’
`Idon’tknow，sir。Ihopetoheaventhathehasgone，forhehasbroughtnothingbuttroublehere！I’venotheardofhimsinceIleftoutfoodforhimlast，andthatwasthreedaysago。’
`Didyouseehimthen？’
`No，sir，butthefoodwasgonewhennextIwentthatway。’
`Thenhewascertainlythere？’
`Soyouwouldthink，sir，unlessitwastheothermanwhotookit。’
Isatwithmycoffee—cuphalfwaytomylipsandstaredatBarrymore。
`Youknowthatthereisanothermanthen？’
`Yes，sir;thereisanothermanuponthemoor。’
`Haveyouseenhim？’
`No，sir。’
`Howdoyouknowofhimthen？’
`Seldentoldmeofhim，sir，aweekagoormore。He’sinhiding，too，buthe’snotaconvictasfarasIcanmakeout。Idon’tlikeit，Dr。Watson—Itellyoustraight，sir，thatIdon’tlikeit。’Hespokewithasuddenpassionofearnestness。
`Now，listentome，Barrymore！Ihavenointerestinthismatterbutthatofyourmaster。Ihavecomeherewithnoobjectexcepttohelphim。Tellme，frankly，whatitisthatyoudon’tlike。’
Barrymorehesitatedforamoment，asifheregrettedhisoutburstorfounditdifficulttoexpresshisownfeelingsinwords。
`It’sallthesegoings—on，sir，’hecriedatlast，wavinghishandtowardstherain—lashedwindowwhichfacedthemoor。`There’sfoulplaysomewhere，andthere’sblackvillainybrewing，tothatI’llswear！
VerygladIshouldbe，sir，toseeSirHenryonhiswaybacktoLondonagain！’
`Butwhatisitthatalarmsyou？’
`LookatSirCharles’sdeath！Thatwasbadenough，forallthatthecoronersaid。Lookatthenoisesonthemooratnight。There’snotamanwouldcrossitaftersundownifhewaspaidforit。Lookatthisstrangerhidingoutyonder，andwatchingandwaiting！What’shewaitingfor？Whatdoesitmean？ItmeansnogoodtoanyoneofthenameofBaskerville，andverygladIshallbetobequitofitallonthedaythatSirHenry’snewservantsarereadytotakeovertheHall。’
`Butaboutthisstranger，’saidI。`Canyoutellmeanythingabouthim？WhatdidSeldensay？Didhefindoutwherehehid，orwhathewasdoing？’
`Hesawhimonceortwice，butheisadeeponeandgivesnothingaway。Atfirsthethoughtthathewasthepolice，butsoonhefoundthathehadsomelayofhisown。Akindofgentlemanhewas，asfarashecouldsee，butwhathewasdoinghecouldnotmakeout。’
`Andwheredidhesaythathelived？’
`Amongtheoldhousesonthehillside—thestonehutswheretheoldfolkusedtolive。’
`Buthowabouthisfood？’
`Seldenfoundoutthathehasgotaladwhoworksforhimandbringsallheneeds。IdaresayhegoestoCoombeTraceyforwhathewants。’
`Verygood，Barrymore。Wemaytalkfurtherofthissomeothertime。’WhenthebutlerhadgoneIwalkedovertotheblackwindow，andIlookedthroughablurredpaneatthedrivingcloudsandatthetossingoutlineofthewind—swepttrees。Itisawildnightindoors，andwhatmustitbeinastonehutuponthemoor。Whatpassionofhatredcanitbewhichleadsamantolurkinsuchaplaceatsuchatime！Andwhatdeepandearnestpurposecanhehavewhichcallsforsuchatrial！
There，inthathutuponthemoor，seemstolietheverycentreofthatproblemwhichhasvexedmesosorely。IswearthatanotherdayshallnothavepassedbeforeIhavedoneallthatmancandotoreachtheheartofthemystery。
[NextChapter][TableofContents]ConanDoyle：TheHoundoftheBaskervilles11[TableofContents]Chapter11TheManontheTorTheextractfrommyprivatediarywhichformsthelastchapterhasbroughtmynarrativeuptotheeighteenthofOctober，atimewhenthesestrangeeventsbegantomoveswiftlytowardstheirterribleconclusion。Theincidentsofthenextfewdaysareindeliblygravenuponmyrecollection，andIcantellthemwithoutreferencetothenotesmadeatthetime。IstartthemfromthedaywhichsucceededthatuponwhichIhadestablishedtwofactsofgreatimportance，theonethatMrs。LauraLyonsofCoombeTraceyhadwrittentoSirCharlesBaskervilleandmadeanappointmentwithhimattheveryplaceandhourthathemethisdeath，theotherthatthelurkingmanuponthemoorwastobefoundamongthestonehutsuponthehillside。
WiththesetwofactsinmypossessionIfeltthateithermyintelligenceormycouragemustbedeficientifIcouldnotthrowsomefurtherlightuponthesedarkplaces。
IhadnoopportunitytotellthebaronetwhatIhadlearnedaboutMrs。Lyonsupontheeveningbefore，forDr。Mortimerremainedwithhimatcardsuntilitwasverylate。Atbreakfast，however，IinformedhimaboutmydiscoveryandaskedhimwhetherhewouldcaretoaccompanymetoCoombeTracey。Atfirsthewasveryeagertocome，butonsecondthoughtsitseemedtobothofusthatifIwentalonetheresultsmightbebetter。
Themoreformalwemadethevisitthelessinformationwemightobtain。
IleftSirHenrybehind，therefore，notwithoutsomeprickingsofconscience，anddroveoffuponmynewquest。
WhenIreachedCoombeTraceyItoldPerkinstoputupthehorses，andImadeinquiriesfortheladywhomIhadcometointerrogate。Ihadnodifficultyinfindingherrooms，whichwerecentralandwellappointed。
Amaidshowedmeinwithoutceremony，andasIenteredthesitting—roomalady，whowassittingbeforeaRemingtontypewriter，sprangupwithapleasantsmileofwelcome。Herfacefell，however，whenshesawthatI
wasastranger，andshesatdownagainandaskedmetheobjectofmyvisit。
ThefirstimpressionleftbyMrs。Lyonswasoneofextremebeauty。
Hereyesandhairwereofthesamerichhazelcolour，andhercheeks，thoughconsiderablyfreckled，wereflushedwiththeexquisitebloomofthebrunette，thedaintypinkwhichlurksattheheartofthesulphurrose。Admirationwas，Irepeat，thefirstimpression。Butthesecondwascriticism。Therewassomethingsubtlywrongwiththeface，somecoarsenessofexpression，somehardness，perhaps，ofeye，someloosenessoflipwhichmarreditsperfectbeauty。Butthese，ofcourse，areafterthoughts。AtthemomentIwassimplyconsciousthatIwasinthepresenceofaveryhandsomewoman，andthatshewasaskingmethereasonsformyvisit。Ihadnotquiteunderstooduntilthatinstanthowdelicatemymissionwas。
`Ihavethepleasure，’saidI，`ofknowingyourfather。’Itwasaclumsyintroduction，andtheladymademefeelit。
`Thereisnothingincommonbetweenmyfatherandme，’shesaid。
`Iowehimnothing，andhisfriendsarenotmine。IfitwerenotforthelateSirCharlesBaskervilleandsomeotherkindheartsImighthavestarvedforallthatmyfathercared。’
`ItwasaboutthelateSirCharlesBaskervillethatIhavecomeheretoseeyou。’
Thefrecklesstartedoutonthelady’sface。
`WhatcanItellyouabouthim？’sheasked，andherfingersplayednervouslyoverthestopsofhertypewriter。
`Youknewhim，didyounot？’
`IhavealreadysaidthatIoweagreatdealtohiskindness。
IfIamabletosupportmyselfitislargelyduetotheinterestwhichhetookinmyunhappysituation。’
`Didyoucorrespondwithhim？’
Theladylookedquicklyupwithanangrygleaminherhazeleyes。
`Whatistheobjectofthesequestions？’sheaskedsharply。
`Theobjectistoavoidapublicscandal。ItisbetterthatI
shouldaskthemherethanthatthemattershouldpassoutsideourcontrol。’
Shewassilentandherfacewasstillverypale。Atlastshelookedupwithsomethingrecklessanddefiantinhermanner。
`Well，I’llanswer，’shesaid。`Whatareyourquestions？’
`DidyoucorrespondwithSirCharles？’
`Icertainlywrotetohimonceortwicetoacknowledgehisdelicacyandhisgenerosity。’
`Haveyouthedatesofthoseletters？’
`No。’
`Haveyouevermethim？’
`Yes，onceortwice，whenhecameintoCoombeTracey。Hewasaveryretiringman，andhepreferredtodogoodbystealth。’
`Butifyousawhimsoseldomandwrotesoseldom，howdidheknowenoughaboutyouraffairstobeabletohelpyou，asyousaythathehasdone？’
Shemetmydifficultywiththeutmostreadiness。
`Therewereseveralgentlemenwhoknewmysadhistoryandunitedtohelpme。OnewasMr。Stapleton，aneighbourandintimatefriendofSirCharles’s。Hewasexceedinglykind，anditwasthroughhimthatSirCharleslearnedaboutmyaffairs。’
IknewalreadythatSirCharlesBaskervillehadmadeStapletonhisalmoneruponseveraloccasions，sothelady’sstatementboretheimpressoftruthuponit。
`DidyoueverwritetoSirCharlesaskinghimtomeetyou？’I
continued。
Mrs。Lyonsflushedwithangeragain。
`Really，sir，thisisaveryextraordinaryquestion。’
`Iamsorry，madam，butImustrepeatit。’
`ThenIanswer，certainlynot。’
`NotontheverydayofSirCharles’sdeath？’
Theflushhadfadedinaninstant，andadeathlyfacewasbeforeme。Herdrylipscouldnotspeakthe`No’whichIsawratherthanheard。
`Surelyyourmemorydeceivesyou，’saidI。`Icouldevenquoteapassageofyourletter。Itran``Please，please，asyouareagentleman，burnthisletter，andbeatthegatebyteno’clock。’’
Ithoughtthatshehadfainted，butsherecoveredherselfbyasupremeeffort。
`Istherenosuchthingasagentleman？’shegasped。
`YoudoSirCharlesaninjustice。Hedidburntheletter。Butsometimesalettermaybelegibleevenwhenburned。Youacknowledgenowthatyouwroteit？’
`Yes，Ididwriteit，’shecried，pouringouthersoulinatorrentofwords。`Ididwriteit。WhyshouldIdenyit？Ihavenoreasontobeashamedofit。Iwishedhimtohelpme。IbelievedthatifIhadaninterviewIcouldgainhishelp，soIaskedhimtomeetme。’
`Butwhyatsuchanhour？’
`BecauseIhadonlyjustlearnedthathewasgoingtoLondonnextdayandmightbeawayformonths。TherewerereasonswhyIcouldnotgetthereearlier。’
`Butwhyarendezvousinthegardeninsteadofavisittothehouse？’
`Doyouthinkawomancouldgoaloneatthathourtoabachelor’shouse？’
`Well，whathappenedwhenyoudidgetthere？’
`Ineverwent。’
`Mrs。Lyons！’
`No，IswearittoyouonallIholdsacred。Ineverwent。Somethingintervenedtopreventmygoing。’
`Whatwasthat？’
`Thatisaprivatematter。Icannottellit。’
`YouacknowledgethenthatyoumadeanappointmentwithSirCharlesattheveryhourandplaceatwhichhemethisdeath，butyoudenythatyoukepttheappointment。’
`Thatisthetruth。’
AgainandagainIcross—questionedher，butIcouldnevergetpastthatpoint。