The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 128 The Hound of the Baskervilles (9)
[-]. Dr. Watson's first report

I shall henceforth copy, in the order in which they occurred, the letters addressed to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lay on the table before me.Although one of them has been lost, I believe that what I have written is completely consistent with the facts.I have vivid memories of these tragic events, and these letters always give a more accurate account of my feelings and suspicions at the time.

My dear Sherlock Holmes: My previous letters and telegrams should have kept you abreast of all that is going on in this most desolate corner.The longer one stays here, the deeper the mystery of the moor, so vast and so horribly magical, penetrates into one's soul.As soon as you're in the heart of the moor, you don't see any trace of modern Britain.On the other hand, you can see houses and labors of prehistoric people everywhere here.As you walk, you are surrounded by the homes of these forgotten people, with their tombs and massive stone pillars.These stone pillars may be where their temples are located.When you see those gray rock huts on the mottled hillsides, you will forget what age you are in. If you are lucky enough to see a furry man crawling through the low doorway Come out, put the flint-pointed arrow on the bowstring, and you will feel his presence much more naturally than your own here.It is strange that the land, which had always been the barrenest, should ever have been so densely populated.I'm not an archaeologist, but I can imagine that they were some kind of downtrodden race who didn't like to fight, and were forced to accept this place that no one wanted to live in.

Obviously, none of this has anything to do with the mission you've sent me here on, and would probably be tedious to the most practical of you.I also remember your indifference when it came to the question whether the sun revolves around the earth or the earth revolves around the sun.But let me return to the matter concerning Sir Henry Baskerville.

You didn't get any reports the other day because nothing worth reporting happened.Then, however, an astonishing thing happened, which I shall now report to you from the beginning to the end.First, I want to give you an idea of ​​the other relevant factors in the whole situation.

One of them is the fugitive in the moor that I rarely talk about.It is now completely certain that he has run away, which can relieve the hearts of the residents who live scattered in this area.He had been on the run for a fortnight, during which time no one had seen him or heard of him.It is indeed difficult to imagine that he could have been in the moor all this time.Of course, if it was just hiding, it would be no difficulty for him, and any small stone house could be his best hiding place.But unless he could kill the sheep in the swamp, he couldn't eat anything.So we thought he had escaped, and the peasants who lived in remote places could sleep more peacefully.

We have four able-bodied men living here, so we can still take good care of ourselves.But frankly, when I think of the Stapletons, I feel uneasy.They lived in a place where there was no one else for miles around, except for a maid, an old manservant, and their brother and sister, the older brother looking frail.If this fugitive from Nauting Mountain breaks into their house and falls into the hands of this desperado, they are really powerless to resist.Sir Henry and I were very concerned about their situation, and had suggested that Perkins, the coachman, should go to bed with them, but Stapleton took no notice of it.

In fact, our friend, the baronet, had begun to show a great deal of interest in our neighbour.This is easy to understand, for such an active person like him, it is really boring in such a lonely place, and she is a charming beauty.There was something tropical and exotic about her, which contrasted strangely with her brother's cold and unsympathetic expression, but he also made one feel that there was a fire in his heart.He must have had power over her, for I had seen her keep looking at him as she spoke, as if asking his approval for everything she said.I believe he treats her well.His eyes were piercing, his lips were thin but determined, and these features often showed a dogmatic and tyrannical character.I think you will find him an interesting subject of study.

On the first day he called on Baskerville.The next morning, he led the two of us to see the legendary place where the profligate Xiu Guo happened.We walked a couple of miles over the moor to get there, and it was such a desolate place that it was so easy to make up stories like that.We found a short ravine between two rocky hillocks, and following this ravine we came to an open and grassy clearing, covered with white cotton grass.In the center of the clearing stood two large rocks, the tops of which had been weathered into pointed shapes, much like the worn-out tusks of some gigantic beast.This scene is indeed consistent with the tragic scene in the legend.Sir Henry was very interested, and asked Stapleton again and again if he really believed that ghosts and ghosts could interfere in human affairs.When he spoke, he seemed casual on the surface, but it was obvious that he was serious in his heart.Stapleton answered very carefully, and it was easy to see that he wanted to say as little as possible, as if taking into account the effect on the baron's emotions, he did not express all his opinions.He told us something similar about some families who had been haunted by demons, which made us think he had the same opinion on the matter as the average person.

We dined at Melipy on the way back, and Sir Henry and Miss Stapleton became acquainted.He seemed to have fallen in love with her at first sight, and I dare say it was mutual.He kept mentioning her when we got home.From that day on, we saw their brother and sister almost every day.When they dined here tonight they talked about our visit to them next week.One would think that Stapleton would be delighted if such a couple could be united, but I have often seen Stapleton's face lighten whenever Sir Henry looked at his sister for a longer period of time. There will be strong resentment.He undoubtedly liked her very much, without her, his life would be very lonely, but it would be too selfish for him to hinder her beautiful marriage because of this.I'm pretty sure he didn't want their intimacy to develop into love, and I've found many times that he tried to avoid giving them the chance to be alone and talk.Well, you told me never to let Sir Henry go out alone, but add the problem of love to all other difficulties, and it will be quite difficult.If I carry out your orders firmly and thoroughly, I may become persona non grata.

That day—Thursday, to be exact—Mortimer was with us for dinner, and he was overjoyed to find a prehistoric human skull when he excavated an ancient tomb in Changgang.I've never seen someone as persistent as him!Then the Stapletons came, and at Sir Henry's entreaty, the kind doctor led us down the Yaw Lane, and explained to us what happened on the night Sir Childs died. all through.It was a long and dreary walk, between two rows of tall clipped hedges, the yew-pine lane, and a narrow meadow on either side of the path, terminated by a dilapidated arbor.The little door that opened onto the moor was right in the middle--where the old gentleman had left his cigar ashes--a white wooden door with a latch, and the wide moor was beyond.I still remember your thoughts on the matter, and I tried to picture in my mind the whole reality of what happened.Probably while the old man was standing there he saw something running towards him across the moor, and he was so frightened by it that he panicked and ran away until he died of terror and heart failure.

He was running along that long and gloomy lane.But why did he run away?Just because of a sheepdog on the moor?Or did you see a big, silent, ghostly black hound?Could it be that someone is playing tricks?Had the white and watchful Barrymore concealed what he knew?All this seems confusing, but I always feel that there is a shadow of evil behind the scenes.

Since I last wrote to you, I have met another neighbor, Mr. Frankland of Ryford Park, who lives about four miles south of us.He was old, rosy-faced, silver-haired, and irascible.He enjoyed studying English law and spent a fortune in litigation.He is arguing with others just for the pleasure of arguing. As for which side of the issue he is on, it makes no difference at all. No wonder he thinks this is a game that costs money.Sometimes he would set up a barricade on a road, and openly defied the order of the diocese to let him remove it;He was well versed in the old manorship and commons laws, and he used his knowledge at times to defend the interests of the inhabitants of Fernworthy, and at other times against them.So, depending on what he did, he was sometimes carried up with cheers and walked through the village streets, and sometimes he was made into a straw dummy and burned.It is said that he still has seven pending lawsuits in his hands, which may consume what little money he has left.At that time, he will be like a wasp whose stinger has been pulled out, unable to do harm to others anymore.He was a genial man, if not on legal matters.I'm only mentioning him, because you specifically ordered me to send you some descriptions of the people around you.He's very busy right now.He was an amateur astronomer, and had a good telescope, which he spent all day crouching on his roof, watching the moor in the hope of spotting the fugitive.All would be well if he could devote his energy to the matter, but it was rumored that he was now planning to sue Dr. Mortimer for digging a grave without the consent of the next of kin.Because Mortimer unearthed a Neolithic skull from an ancient tomb in Changgang.This Mr. Frankland can really break up our monotony and give us a little something to laugh at when we desperately need it.

You have now been duly introduced to the fugitive, Stapleton, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland of Ryford Park.Now let me tell you the most important things about Barrymore, especially the astonishing development of last night's events.

The first concerns your tentative telegram from London to ascertain whether Barrymore is here.I have explained to you that the words of the postmaster showed that the temptation was in vain, and we could prove nothing.I told Sir Henry the truth of the matter, but he called Barrymore directly, and asked him if he had received the telegram himself.Barrymore said yes.

"Did the child deliver it to you himself?" asked Sir Henry.

Barrymore seemed surprised, and he considered it for a moment. "No," said he, "I was upstairs in the cottage, and my wife brought it up."

"Did you reply the telegram yourself?"

"No, I told my wife how to call back and she went downstairs to write."

That night, Barrymore brought up the issue again.

"I don't quite understand why you asked that question this morning, Sir Henry," said he; "I suppose you don't show me what I've done to make you lose your confidence in me by asking me like that? "

Sir Henry was now compelled to assure him that he had no intention of it, and to stabilize him by giving him most of his old clothes.Because all the newly purchased things in London have now been shipped.

Mrs. Barrymore, who caught my attention, was corpulent and stocky, prim and respectable, almost puritanical, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a person more impervious to emotion.But I told you that on the first night I came here, I heard her sobbing sadly. Since then, I have seen her face more than once with tears stained, deep sorrow gnawing at her. her heart.

Sometimes I wondered if she had any guilt, and sometimes I wondered if Barrymore might be a domestic abuser.I always felt that there was always something particularly suspicious about this person's character, but last night's adventure dispelled all my doubts.

Perhaps the matter itself is trivial.You know, I'm an alert sleeper, and because I'm alert all the time in this house, I'm sleeping more restlessly than usual.Last night, at about two o'clock in the morning, I was awakened by light footsteps outside the house.I got up, opened the door, peeped out, and saw a long black shadow cast on the corridor floor.It was a barefoot figure in shirt and trousers walking softly down the aisle with a candle in his hand.I could only see the outline of his body, but it was clear from his figure that it was Barrymore.He walked slowly and carefully, and from his whole appearance he was furtive, with an indescribably ulterior air.

I have told you that the corridor which encircled the hall was interrupted by a section of balcony, but continued on the other side of the balcony.I waited until he was out of sight and followed him quietly. When I approached the balcony, he had reached the end of the corridor in the distance. I saw the light coming from an open door. , you know he has walked into a room.As the rooms were now neither furnished nor occupied, his behavior was all the more surreptitious.The light was steady, he seemed to be standing still, and I tiptoed down the corridor and peeked in from the door.

Barrymore was bent over the window, holding a candle, and leaned close to the windowpane, with his head half-turned to me, his face very serious with tension as he gazed out into the dark moor.He stood there watching very intently for a few minutes, then sighed deeply and extinguished the candle with a gesture of impatience.I immediately retreated to the room, and it didn't take long before I heard the sound of him going back lightly.After a long time, when I was about to fall asleep, I heard the sound of a lock being opened somewhere, but I couldn't tell where the sound came from.What it means, I cannot guess, but I think that there is some secret business going on in this gloomy house, and that sooner or later we shall find out.I would like to express my opinion too much, but since you have asked me to give only the facts.I had a long talk with Sir Henry this morning, and we have drawn up a plan of action based on the observations I made last night.I am not going to talk about it now, but it will certainly make my next report more interesting to read.

[-]. Dr. Watson's Second Report

lights in the swamp
My dear Holmes:

If, at the beginning of my undertaking on this mission, I had no choice but to give you more information, I am now trying to make up for lost time.And now, around us, events are happening more frequently and more complexly.In my last report I stopped short of Barrymore standing at the window, and if I am not mistaken, I have now, if I am not mistaken, material which will surprise you.Things have changed beyond my expectation.In some ways, things have become clear in the past 48 hours, but in others, they seem to have become more complicated.I will tell you the whole case now, and judge for yourself.

Before breakfast the next day after my discovery of the oddity, I walked down the corridor and inspected the room where Barrymore had been the night before.In the west window, which he looked intently out of, I noticed a peculiarity unlike any other in the house--it was open to the moor, where it overlooked the moor, and was the closest, so that you could pass through it. The moor was visible through a gap between two trees, and only dimly from other windows.It may therefore be inferred that Barrymore must be looking at something or someone out on the moor, for the window was the most suitable for that purpose.It was very dark that night, so I can hardly imagine who he could see.It occurred to me that this might be some kind of secret trick on his part, which might explain the connection between his furtiveness and his wife's sobbing at night.He was handsome enough to make a country girl fall in love with him, so there was some basis for the conjecture.The sound of the door opening when I got back to my room probably meant that he was out for an appointment.So in the morning I pondered it over myself, and though it may turn out to be unwarranted, I will now tell you all the doubts.

(End of this chapter)