The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 125 The Hound of the Baskervilles (6)
It seemed that the man was taken aback, and was a little bit at a loss: "Well, it seems that I don't need to tell you about this, because it seems that you know as much as I do," he said: "The fact is Well, that gentleman once told me that he was a detective, and that nothing about him should be told to anyone."

"It's a very serious matter, my boy, and if you try to hide anything from me you're in for some bad luck. Do you think your passenger ever told you he was a detective?"

"Yes, he said so."

"When did you say that?"

"When you leave me."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He mentioned his name."

Holmes cast me a quick, triumphant glance, and said: "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was quite the insolence. What did he say his name was?"

"His name," said the coachman, "is Sherlock Holmes, sir."

My friend was startled when he heard the coachman's words, such an expression as I had never seen him.For a moment he sat silent in astonishment, and then he burst out laughing again.

"Wonderful, Watson, very wonderful," said he; "I think he is as quick-witted and astute a fellow as I am. He did me a real f*ck last time--his name is Sherlock M. Holmes?"

"Yes, sir, that is the gentleman's name."

"Great! Tell me where he hitched a ride with you, and what happened afterwards."

"At 09:30 he called my car in Trevorga Square, said he was a detective and said that if I would follow his instructions absolutely all day without asking any questions, he would give me Two quid. I gladly agreed. We went first to the Northumberland Inn, and waited there till the two gentlemen came out and hired a carriage. We followed their carriage till it stopped near here."

"It is this gate," said Holmes.

"Well, I'm not sure of that. But I dare say my passenger knew everything. We stopped in the street for an hour and a half and waited. Then two gentlemen walked past us and we followed along Baker Street." down, and along..."

"I see that," interposed Holmes.

"We were about three-quarters of the way through Regent Street. Suddenly the gentleman in the car opened the sliding roof window and shouted to me to get the car to Waterloo Station as soon as possible. I pumped my horse. , in less than 10 minutes. He actually gave me two gold pounds and went into the station. Just as he was about to walk away, he turned and said: 'You might appreciate it if you knew my name. Interesting, your passenger is Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I learned his name."

"I see. Didn't you see him again?"

"After he entered the station, he was never seen again."

"If you were asked to describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes, how would you describe it?"

The coachman scratched his head and said: "Well, it's not so easy to describe him. I think he is about forty years old, of medium height, and two or three inches shorter than you, sir. Black beard, neatly cropped, and pale. I think that's all I can say."

"What color are your eyes?"

"No, I can't tell."

"Can you recall anything else?"

"Well, sir, I can't remember."

"Well, here's your half quid, then. You'll get another half quid for more information later on. Good night!"

"Good night, sir, and thank you."

John Clayton went away laughing.Holmes shrugged his shoulders, and turned to me with a disappointed smile.

"Our third lead was broken, too, and ended at the beginning of a thread," said he. "The cunning rascal! He has got our hands on it, and he knows that Sir Henry Baskerville has come to me, Having found out who I am in Regent Street, I must have gone to the coachman, considering that I had taken down the number of the carriage, so he sent this joking message. I tell you, Watson, that this time we It's a close match indeed. I've had my setbacks in London. I hope you'll have better luck in Devonshire than here, but I'm not sure."

"What are you worried about?"

"I'm worried about sending you. It's a tricky thing, Watson, and it's dangerous, and the more I look at it the more unusual it becomes. Yes, my dear fellow, you may find it funny, but I want to Say, I should be very glad if you come back to Baker Street safe and sound."

[-]. Baskerville Manor
On the appointed day, Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready.We set out for Devon as planned.Sherlock Holmes rode with me to the station, and gave me some parting instructions and advice.

"I do not wish to overwhelm you, Watson, with all sorts of claims and suspicions," said he, "but I only wish you to report to me the facts in as much detail as possible, and leave the rest to me. Bar."

"What facts?" I asked.

"Any fact, however indirect, connected with the case, especially the relation of young Baskerville to his neighbours, or any new question connected with the sudden death of Sir Childs. The other day I Have made some inquiries myself, but I am afraid they are of no avail. Only one thing seems certain, that the next successor, Mr. James Desman, is an older gentleman. , very kind, so the persecution cannot be his work. I really feel that we can leave him completely when we think about the problem, and the rest is really just around Henry Baskerville in the moor. people."

"Wouldn't it be nice to fire the Barrymore couple first?"

"Don't do it, or you're going to make a big mistake. If they're innocent, it's not fair; if they're guilty, it doesn't do what they deserve. No, no, no. Thus, we must place them on the list of suspects. A coachman and two moor farmers, if I remember correctly; and as to our friend Dr. His wife, of whom we know nothing; Stapleton, the biologist, and his sister, who is said to be a charming young lady; Mr. Frankland of Ryford Park, who is an unknown ; and one or two other neighbors. These are the characters you must pay special attention to."

"I will do my best."

"I take it you're carrying a weapon?"

"I have it, and I think it's better to carry it with me."

"Of course, your revolver should be with you day and night, and you must not be careless for a moment."

Our friends have reserved first-class seats and are waiting for us on the platform.

"Any news?" asked Holmes.

"No, we haven't heard anything," Mortimer replied, "but one thing, I can assure you, that we were not followed for the last two days. Every time we went out, we kept an eye out, and no one may escape our eyes."

"I suppose you are together all the time?"

"Except yesterday afternoon. Whenever I come to town I always have a whole day devoted to amusement, so I spent the whole of yesterday afternoon in the gallery of the College of Surgeons."

"I went to the park to see the fun," said Baskerville, "but we got into no trouble."

"In any case, it is quite negligent," said Holmes, shaking his head gravely. "I beg you, Sir Henry, not to act alone, or you will be in danger. By the way, you have found another high shoe." Yet?"

"No, sir, I can't find it any more."

"It was very interesting. Well, good-bye," he said, as the train moved slowly along the platforms, "Sir Henry, remember that strange old tale that Dr. Mortimer read to us A word from the book - do not walk across the moor when night is falling and evil is in full swing."

As the train moved away from the platform, I looked back. The tall, serious figure of Holmes was still standing there, watching us motionless.

It was a quick and pleasant trip, during which I grew closer to my two companions, and sometimes played with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel.After a few hours, the brown earth slowly turned red, the brick houses were replaced by stone buildings, the bay red cattle were grazing in the well-hedged fields, and the green grass and lush vegetable gardens showed that here The climate is humid and the crops are easy to harvest.Young Baskerville looked eagerly out of the window, and cried with delight at the familiar scenery of Devonshire.

"I have been in many parts of the world since I left here, Dr. Watson," said he, "but I have never seen a place like this."

"I've never met a Devonshireman who didn't praise his homeland," I said.

"Not only the geographical conditions of this county, but also the local people are extraordinary." Dr. Mortimer said, "Just look at our friend, you can tell that he is of Celtic type just by his round head. Celtic passions. Poor Sir Childs' head is of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivorian. When I saw Baskerville Hall , you are still very young, aren't you?"

"I was a teenager when my father died, and he lived in a small house on the south side of the sea, so I never saw the estate. After my father died, I went straight to Went to a friend in America. I tell you, I am as curious about this estate as Dr. Watson, and I am very eager to see the moor."

"Really? In that case, you will soon get your wish, because you will see the swamp soon." Dr. Mortimer pointed out the window as he spoke.

At the end of the field that was cut into countless green squares and the woods that formed a low curve, a gray and gloomy hill stands in between. There are strange and uneven gaps on the top of the hill, which can be vaguely seen from a distance. It's like a dreamlike scenery.Baskerville sat there for a long time in silence, staring dreamily.I could see from his eager facial expression how much this place meant to him, the first time I saw that weird place that had been held by the same people for so long, and everywhere reminded people deeply of them. place.He was dressed in tweed, with an American accent, and sat in the corner of a carriage, but every time I saw his dark and expressive face, I felt more and more that he was indeed the noble, enthusiastic The descendant of the family, and has the demeanor of the head of the family.In his thick eyebrows, nervous nostrils, and large chestnut eyes there is pride, grandeur, and strength.If difficulties and dangers had arisen in that dreadful moor, he was at least a reliable man who would bravely bear his responsibility.

The train stopped at a small station by the road and we got off.Outside the short white railing was parked a four-wheeled carriage pulled by two short-legged ponies.Our arrival was obviously a great event, and the stationmaster and porters surrounded us to help us with our luggage.This is a quiet, lovely and simple place, but at the exit, there are two soldiers in black uniforms standing there, which makes me feel surprised.Rifles slung over their bodies, they walked past us, staring straight at us.The coachman, a small fellow of rough, grim countenance, saluted Henry Baskerville.A few minutes later we were galloping down the wide gray and white avenue.The undulating grassland extends upwards on both sides of the avenue. Through the gaps of dense green shade, you can see some ancient houses with walls and roofs repaired in a herringbone shape. Behind the quiet village under the sun, there is a stretch of In the middle of the dark swamp, which is constantly set off by the evening sky, there are several sinister hills of different heights.

The four-wheeled carriage turned into a side road, and we walked through a channel that had been run over by the wheels for centuries and had sunk deep into the ground. Stone walls of thick-leaved ferns.Bronze ferns and mottled blackberries glisten in the setting sun.We kept going up, and crossed a narrow granite bridge, and the carriage followed a rushing and noisy rapid.The water was rushing, foaming, roaring among the gray stones.There are dense dwarf oak and fir trees in the canyon, and the road winds upstream along the winding river.Baskerville cried out with joy at every turn, looked eagerly about him, and asked us many questions.In his opinion, everything here is beautiful, but I always feel that the countryside around this area has a desolate smell and a scene of late autumn.The path was covered with withered and yellow leaves, and as we passed, some leaves fluttered down from overhead.The rattling of the wheels fell silent as our carriage passed over the dead leaves—these were, in my eyes, ominous gifts from the Creator scattered over the carts of returning Baskervilles.

"Ah!" exclaimed Dr. Mortimer, "what's that?"

Ahead appeared a slope covered with evergreen shrubs of the type heather, a point jutting out from the edge of the moor.At the highest point, there is a soldier on a horse, which can be clearly seen. He is like a statue of a knight mounted on a pedestal, dark and serious, with a carbine resting on his left arm stretched forward. Preparing pose for radiation.He is watching over the path we are on.

"What's the matter, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer.

The coachman turned around in his seat and said: "A prisoner escaped from Prince Town, sir. He has escaped for three days so far. The jailers guard every road and every station, but they still haven't found him." There are traces of it. The farmers in the neighborhood are disturbed, sir, it is true."

"Oh, I know, there's a five pound bounty for anyone who tips the news."

"Yes, sir, but it's a poor thing to take five pounds at the risk of having your throat cut. This is no ordinary criminal, you know. He's a desperado. "

"Who is this fugitive?"

"His name is Seldan, and he is the murderer on Nauting Hill."

I remember that case very clearly. His methods were extremely cruel, and the whole assassination process was run through with extreme atrocities, so this case also aroused Holmes' interest.He was later spared death because his behavior was so brutal that people doubted his mental health.Our carriage climbed to the top of the slope, and in front of us lay a vast moor, dotted with cairns and jagged hills, mottled and strangely colored.A cold wind came from the moor and we all shivered.Perhaps in one of the ravines in that uninhabited plain, this devilish fugitive hid like a beast, filled with hatred for those who had deserted him.The bare wasteland, the chill wind, and the dark sky, combined with this desperado, made the appearance all the more terrifying.Baskerville was also silent, and he wrapped his overcoat tighter.

The fertile country has fallen behind us, and we look back, the setting sun is slanting, and the water is like golden threads, and the red land and the vast woods are also shining.The road ahead, on a terracotta and olive slope, looked increasingly desolate, strewn with boulders.Now and then we passed a little house in the moor, with walls and roof of stone, and no vines on the walls to hide its rough surface.We looked down, and suddenly saw a bowl-shaped depression with patches of badly grown oak and fir trees bent by the wind.From the top of the forest, two thin and tall spiers stick out.The coachman pointed with his whip, and said, "This is Baskerville Manor."

The owner of the manor stood up, his cheeks flushed, and he looked over with piercing eyes.A few minutes later, we arrived at the gate of the manor.The gate was made of iron bars very densely intertwined in a wonderful pattern, and on each side was a weather-beaten pillar, which was covered with moss and looked very dirty. boar head.The concierge had become a heap of crumbling black granite, with bare rafters exposed.But opposite it was a new building, only half built, built by Sir Charles out of gold he had earned from South Africa.

As soon as you enter the gate, walk up the trail.Then the wheels rolled silently on the dead leaves, and the branches of the old tree weaved a dark archway over our heads.Baskerville shuddered at the sight of a house glowing like a ghost at the end of the long drive.

"Did that happen here?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, no, the water pines are on that side."

The young heir looked around sullenly.

"In a place like this, it's no wonder that my uncle always felt that disaster was coming," he said. "It's enough to scare anyone here. I decided to install a row of Thousand Swans and Edisons in the front of the hall within six months." Bulb, then you won't recognize the place anymore."

(End of this chapter)