The Hound of the Baskervilles
Stapleton and Mrs. Laura Lyons, were left with a strong suspicion
against Stapleton. Mrs. Stapleton knew that he had designs upon
the old man, and also of the existence of the hound. Mrs. Lyons
knew neither of these things, but had been impressed by the death
occurring at the time of an uncancelled appointment which was
only known to him. However, both of them were under his
influence, and he had nothing to fear from them. The first half
of his task was successfully accomplished but the more difficult
still remained.
“It is possible that Stapleton did not know of the existence of
an heir in Canada. In any case he would very soon learn it from
his friend Dr. Mortimer, and he was told by the latter all
details about the arrival of Henry Baskerville. Stapleton’s first
idea was that this young stranger from Canada might possibly be
done to death in London without coming down to Devonshire at all.
He distrusted his wife ever since she had refused to help him in
laying a trap for the old man, and he dared not leave her long
out of his sight for fear he should lose his influence over her.
It was for this reason that he took her to London with him. They
lodged, I find, at the Mexborough Private Hotel, in Craven
Street, which was actually one of those called upon by my agent
in search of evidence. Here he kept his wife imprisoned in her
room while he, disguised in a beard, followed Dr. Mortimer to
Baker Street and afterwards to the station and to the
Northumberland Hotel. His wife had some inkling of his plans; but
she had such a fear of her husband—a fear founded upon brutal
ill-treatment—that she dare not write to warn the man whom she
knew to be in danger. If the letter should fall into Stapleton’s
hands her own life would not be safe. Eventually, as we know, she
adopted the expedient of cutting out the words which would form
the message, and addressing the letter in a disguised hand. It
reached the baronet, and gave him the first warning of his
danger.
“It was very essential for Stapleton to get some article of Sir
Henry’s attire so that, in case he was driven to use the dog, he
might always have the means of setting him upon his track. With
characteristic promptness and audacity he set about this at once,
and we cannot doubt that the boots or chamber-maid of the hotel
was well bribed to help him in his design. By chance, however,
the first boot which was procured for him was a new one and,
therefore, useless for his purpose. He then had it returned and
obtained another—a most instructive incident, since it proved
conclusively to my mind that we were dealing with a real hound,
as no other supposition could explain this anxiety to obtain an
old boot and this indifference to a new one. The more _outré_ and
grotesque an incident is the more carefully it deserves to be
examined, and the very point which appears to complicate a case
is, when duly considered and scientifically handled, the one
which is most likely to elucidate it.
“Then we had the visit from our friends next morning, shadowed
always by Stapleton in the cab. From his knowledge of our rooms
and of my appearance, as well as from his general conduct, I am
inclined to think that Stapleton’s career of crime has been by no
means limited to this single Baskerville affair. It is suggestive
that during the last three years there have been four
considerable burglaries in the west country, for none of which
was any criminal ever arrested. The last of these, at Folkestone
Court, in May, was remarkable for the cold-blooded pistolling of
the page, who surprised the masked and solitary burglar. I cannot
doubt that Stapleton recruited his waning resources in this
fashion, and that for years he has been a desperate and dangerous
man.
“We had an example of his readiness of resource that morning when
he got away from us so successfully, and also of his audacity in
sending back my own name to me through the cabman. From that
moment he understood that I had taken over the case in London,
and that therefore there was no chance for him there. He returned
to Dartmoor and awaited the arrival of the baronet.”
“One moment!” said I. “You have, no doubt, described the sequence
of events correctly, but there is one point which you have left
unexplained. What became of the hound when its master was in
London?”
“I have given some attention to this matter and it is undoubtedly
of importance. There can be no question that Stapleton had a
confidant, though it is unlikely that he ever placed himself in
his power by sharing all his plans with him. There was an old
manservant at Merripit House, whose name was Anthony. His
connection with the Stapletons can be traced for several years,
as far back as the school-mastering days, so that he must have
been aware that his master and mistress were really husband and
wife. This man has disappeared and has escaped from the country.
It is suggestive that Anthony is not a common name in England,
while Antonio is so in all Spanish or Spanish-American countries.
The man, like Mrs. Stapleton herself, spoke good English, but
with a curious lisping accent. I have myself seen this old man
cross the Grimpen Mire by the path which Stapleton had marked
out. It is very probable, therefore, that in the absence of his
master it was he who cared for the hound, though he may never
have known the purpose for which the beast was used.
“The Stapletons then went down to Devonshire, whither they were
soon followed by Sir Henry and you. One word now as to how I
stood myself at that time. It may possibly recur to your memory
that when I examined the paper upon which the printed words were
fastened I made a close inspection for the water-mark. In doing
so I held it within a few inches of my eyes, and was conscious of
a faint smell of the scent known as white jessamine. There are
seventy-five perfumes, which it is very necessary that a criminal
expert should be able to distinguish from each other, and cases
have more than once within my own experience depended upon their
prompt recognition. The scent suggested the presence of a lady,
and already my thoughts began to turn towards the Stapletons.
Thus I had made certain of the hound, and had guessed at the
criminal before ever we went to the west country.
“It was my game to watch Stapleton. It was evident, however, that
I could not do this if I were with you, since he would be keenly
on his guard. I deceived everybody, therefore, yourself included,
and I came down secretly when I was supposed to be in London. My
hardships were not so great as you imagined, though such trifling
details must never interfere with the investigation of a case. I
stayed for the most part at Coombe Tracey, and only used the hut
upon the moor when it was necessary to be near the scene of
action. Cartwright had come down with me, and in his disguise as
a country boy he was of great assistance to me. I was dependent
upon him for food and clean linen. When I was watching Stapleton,
Cartwright was frequently watching you, so that I was able to
keep my hand upon all the strings.
“I have already told you that your reports reached me rapidly,
being forwarded instantly from Baker Street to Coombe Tracey.
They were of great service to me, and especially that one
incidentally truthful piece of biography of Stapleton’s. I was
able to establish the identity of the man and the woman and knew
at last exactly how I stood. The case had been considerably
complicated through the incident of the escaped convict and the
relations between him and the Barrymores. This also you cleared
up in a very effective way, though I had already come to the same
conclusions from my own observations.
“By the time that you discovered me upon the moor I had a
complete knowledge of the whole business, but I had not a case
which could go to a jury. Even Stapleton’s attempt upon Sir Henry
that night which ended in the death of the unfortunate convict
did not help us much in proving murder against our man. There
seemed to be no alternative but to catch him red-handed, and to
do so we had to use Sir Henry, alone and apparently unprotected,
as a bait. We did so, and at the cost of a severe shock to our
client we succeeded in completing our case and driving Stapleton
to his destruction. That Sir Henry should have been exposed to
this is, I must confess, a reproach to my management of the case,
but we had no means of foreseeing the terrible and paralyzing
spectacle which the beast presented, nor could we predict the fog
which enabled him to burst upon us at such short notice. We
succeeded in our object at a cost which both the specialist and
Dr. Mortimer assure me will be a temporary one. A long journey
may enable our friend to recover not only from his shattered
nerves but also from his wounded feelings. His love for the lady
was deep and sincere, and to him the saddest part of all this
black business was that he should have been deceived by her.
“It only remains to indicate the part which she had played
throughout. There can be no doubt that Stapleton exercised an
influence over her which may have been love or may have been
fear, or very possibly both, since they are by no means
incompatible emotions. It was, at least, absolutely effective. At
his command she consented to pass as his sister, though he found
the limits of his power over her when he endeavoured to make her
the direct accessory to murder. She was ready to warn Sir Henry
so far as she could without implicating her husband, and again
and again she tried to do so. Stapleton himself seems to have
been capable of jealousy, and when he saw the baronet paying
court to the lady, even though it was part of his own plan, still
he could not help interrupting with a passionate outburst which
revealed the fiery soul which his self-contained manner so
cleverly concealed. By encouraging the intimacy he made it
certain that Sir Henry would frequently come to Merripit House
and that he would sooner or later get the opportunity which he
desired. On the day of the crisis, however, his wife turned
suddenly against him. She had learned something of the death of
the convict, and she knew that the hound was being kept in the
outhouse on the evening that Sir Henry was coming to dinner. She
taxed her husband with his intended crime, and a furious scene
followed in which he showed her for the first time that she had a
rival in his love. Her fidelity turned in an instant to bitter
hatred, and he saw that she would betray him. He tied her up,
therefore, that she might have no chance of warning Sir Henry,
and he hoped, no doubt, that when the whole countryside put down
the baronet’s death to the curse of his family, as they certainly
would do, he could win his wife back to accept an accomplished