The Hound of the Baskervilles
of his own house and sweeps the moor all day in the hope of
catching a glimpse of the escaped convict. If he would confine
his energies to this all would be well, but there are rumours
that he intends to prosecute Dr. Mortimer for opening a grave
without the consent of the next of kin because he dug up the
Neolithic skull in the barrow on Long Down. He helps to keep our
lives from being monotonous and gives a little comic relief where
it is badly needed.
And now, having brought you up to date in the escaped convict,
the Stapletons, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland, of Lafter Hall, let
me end on that which is most important and tell you more about
the Barrymores, and especially about the surprising development
of last night.
First of all about the test telegram, which you sent from London
in order to make sure that Barrymore was really here. I have
already explained that the testimony of the postmaster shows that
the test was worthless and that we have no proof one way or the
other. I told Sir Henry how the matter stood, and he at once, in
his downright fashion, had Barrymore up and asked him whether he
had received the telegram himself. Barrymore said that he had.
“Did the boy deliver it into your own hands?” asked Sir Henry.
Barrymore looked surprised, and considered for a little time.
“No,” said he, “I was in the box-room at the time, and my wife
brought it up to me.”
“Did you answer it yourself?”
“No; I told my wife what to answer and she went down to write
it.”
In the evening he recurred to the subject of his own accord.
“I could not quite understand the object of your questions this
morning, Sir Henry,” said he. “I trust that they do not mean that
I have done anything to forfeit your confidence?”
Sir Henry had to assure him that it was not so and pacify him by
giving him a considerable part of his old wardrobe, the London
outfit having now all arrived.
Mrs. Barrymore is of interest to me. She is a heavy, solid
person, very limited, intensely respectable, and inclined to be
puritanical. You could hardly conceive a less emotional subject.
Yet I have told you how, on the first night here, I heard her
sobbing bitterly, and since then I have more than once observed
traces of tears upon her face. Some deep sorrow gnaws ever at her
heart. Sometimes I wonder if she has a guilty memory which haunts
her, and sometimes I suspect Barrymore of being a domestic
tyrant. I have always felt that there was something singular and
questionable in this man’s character, but the adventure of last
night brings all my suspicions to a head.
And yet it may seem a small matter in itself. You are aware that
I am not a very sound sleeper, and since I have been on guard in
this house my slumbers have been lighter than ever. Last night,
about two in the morning, I was aroused by a stealthy step
passing my room. I rose, opened my door, and peeped out. A long
black shadow was trailing down the corridor. It was thrown by a
man who walked softly down the passage with a candle held in his
hand. He was in shirt and trousers, with no covering to his feet.
I could merely see the outline, but his height told me that it
was Barrymore. He walked very slowly and circumspectly, and there
was something indescribably guilty and furtive in his whole
appearance.
I have told you that the corridor is broken by the balcony which
runs round the hall, but that it is resumed upon the farther
side. I waited until he had passed out of sight and then I
followed him. When I came round the balcony he had reached the
end of the farther corridor, and I could see from the glimmer of
light through an open door that he had entered one of the rooms.
Now, all these rooms are unfurnished and unoccupied so that his
expedition became more mysterious than ever. The light shone
steadily as if he were standing motionless. I crept down the
passage as noiselessly as I could and peeped round the corner of
the door.
Barrymore was crouching at the window with the candle held
against the glass. His profile was half turned towards me, and
his face seemed to be rigid with expectation as he stared out
into the blackness of the moor. For some minutes he stood
watching intently. Then he gave a deep groan and with an
impatient gesture he put out the light. Instantly I made my way
back to my room, and very shortly came the stealthy steps passing
once more upon their return journey. Long afterwards when I had
fallen into a light sleep I heard a key turn somewhere in a lock,
but I could not tell whence the sound came. What it all means I
cannot guess, but there is some secret business going on in this
house of gloom which sooner or later we shall get to the bottom
of. I do not trouble you with my theories, for you asked me to
furnish you only with facts. I have had a long talk with Sir
Henry this morning, and we have made a plan of campaign founded
upon my observations of last night. I will not speak about it
just now, but it should make my next report interesting reading.
Chapter 9.
The Light upon the Moor [Second Report of Dr. Watson]
Baskerville Hall, Oct. 15th.
MY DEAR 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. In my last report I ended upon my top note with
Barrymore at the window, and now I have quite 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 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 Barrymore had
been on the night before. The western window through which he had
stared so intently has, I noticed, one peculiarity above all
other windows in the house—it commands the nearest outlook on to
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 Barrymore, since only this
window would 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 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
had returned to my room might mean that he had gone out to keep
some clandestine appointment. 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 whatever 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 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 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 do exactly what you now suggest,” said
I. “He would follow Barrymore and see what he did.”
“Then we shall do it together.”
“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 tonight and wait until he
passes.” Sir Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was
evident that he hailed the adventure as a relief 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 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 that this will not be wanting if the lady is
willing, for I have seldom seen a man more infatuated with a
woman than he is with our beautiful neighbour, Miss Stapleton.
And yet the course of true love does not run quite as smoothly as
one would under the circumstances expect. Today, for example, its
surface was broken 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, looking at me in a
curious way.
“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 especially that 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 sure that you are the last man in
the world who would wish 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 had made up my mind he picked up his
cane and was gone.
But when I 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 imagined 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. It might not even now be too late to