The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 130 The Hound of the Baskervilles (11)
"He must be using it as a signal," I said, "and we'll see if there is any response." I held the candle as he did, and stared out into the darkness.Because the moon was obscured by clouds, I could only vaguely make out the overlapping black shadows of the trees and the lighter-colored expanse of the moor.Then, in the distance in the middle of the square window frame facing the darkness, suddenly a tiny yellow spot of light pierced the dark night, and I cheered loudly.

"There it is!" I yelled.

"No, no, my lord, that's nothing--nothing!" interrupted the butler. "I assure you, my lord..."

"Remove the light from the window, Watson!" cried the baronet. "Look, that light is also removed! Ah, you old rascal, do you still say that's not a signal? Say it, say it." Now! Who is your accomplice, and what conspiracy are you going to do?"

The man's face unexpectedly showed a bold and rude look: "This is my personal matter, not yours. I will definitely not say it."

"Then you're immediately fired."

"Very well, my lord. If I must go, I shall go."

"You left in disgrace. My God! You have no shame! Your family and mine have lived together in this house for 100 years, and now I find you deliberately Make a conspiracy to kill me."

"No, no, my lord, I did not harm you!" A woman's voice came.

Mrs. Barrymore was standing at the door, paler and more frightened than her husband.Her bulky figure in skirts and shawls might have looked ridiculous were it not for the look of horror on her face.

"We must go, Elisa. The matter is over. Go and pack our things." The butler said.

"Oh, John! John! It was I who brought you to this place, and it was all my fault, Sir Henry - all my fault. It was all my fault, and it was because I begged him that he did it." made."

"Then, what is going on, you can tell."

"My unfortunate brother is starving in the moor, and we cannot let him starve at our door. The light is to tell him that food is ready, and the light on his side shows where it will be delivered." .”

"Then your brother is..."

"It is the fugitive, my lord—the criminal Cerdan."

"It is the truth, my lord," said Barrymore. "As I said, it is not my secret, and I cannot tell you. But now that you have heard it, you will understand that even if it is a conspiracy, it is not against you."

That's the explanation for late night sneaking and window lights.Sir Henry and I both stared at the woman in amazement.Is this possible?This strong and respectable woman was born of the same mother as the most notorious criminal in the country?

"Yes, my lord, my name is Seldan, and he is my brother. We indulged him too much when he was little, and made him think that the world was made to make him happy. Existed, he could do whatever he wanted in this world. He grew up and made bad friends, so he turned bad, my mother broke her heart for him, and tarnished our family's name. He went on and on , committing crimes again and again, repeated repeated admonitions, got deeper and deeper, and finally fell to the point where, if it were not for the mercy of God, he would have been sent to the guillotine. But to me, my lord, as a sister, he will always be the one I used to be The curly-haired child who raised and played with. He escaped from prison, sir, because he knew we lived here and we would not help him. One night he dragged What can we do when the tired and hungry body comes here, with the jailer in pursuit? We let him in, we feed him, we take care of him. And then, sir, you came, and I My brother thought he was safer in the moor than anywhere, till the wind died away, so he hid there. Every other night we put a light in the window to see if he was still there , if there is an answering signal, my husband sends him some bread and meat. Every day we want him to go quickly, but as long as he is still there, we can't ignore it. This is the whole truth, I am a good Christian You can see, believer, that if there is any fault in this, it is not my husband to blame, but me, for he did it for me."

The woman spoke with great sincerity, and the content of her words proved that it was all true.

"Is it all true, Barrymore?"

"Yes, Sir Henry. True."

"Well, I can't blame you for doing your wife a favor. Forget what I just said. You can go to your rooms now, and we'll talk about it in the morning."

After they were gone, we looked out of the window again.

Sir Henry opened the window, and the cold night wind blew in our faces.In the dark distance, the small yellow light spot was still flashing.

"How dare he do it? It astonishes me," said Sir Henry.

"Maybe the place where he shines can only be seen from here."

"Probably, how far do you think it is from here?"

"I think it's on the other side of the Gap Mountain."

"Only a mile or two away."

"I'm afraid it's not that far away."

"Well, it can't be very far from where Barrymore sent the meal, and the villain is waiting by the candle. Good God, Watson, I should like to catch the fugitive."

It crossed my mind, too, that the Barrymores didn't seem to trust us, and that their secret had been forced out.The fugitive was a complete villain, a great danger to society, and he should be neither pitied nor forgiven.If we take this opportunity to send him back to prison, we are only doing our duty.With his brutal, vicious nature, others may pay the price if we stand idly by.The thought, for instance, of the possibility of his attacking our neighbour, Stapleton, on any given night, may have induced Sir Henry to take the risk.

"I'm going too." I said.

"Then you take your revolver and put on your high shoes. We're going to start as soon as possible, and the fellow may blow out the candle and run away at any moment."

5 minutes later we were out the door and the adventure began.We hurried through the dark undergrowth to the murmur of the autumn wind and the rustle of fallen leaves.There was a heavy smell of damp and decay in the night air.From time to time, the moon poked its head out of the gaps in the clouds, and the clouds flowed in the sky.When we had just reached the moor, it began to drizzle.The candlelight was still shining steadily ahead.

"Did you bring a weapon?" I asked.

"I have a hunting whip."

"We had to rush at him quickly, he was said to be a desperado. We had to catch him by surprise and subdue him before he could react."

"I say, Watson," said the baronet, "what will Holmes think of our conduct? Especially in such a dark night, when crime is rampant."

As if in answer to his words, suddenly from the vast and dismal moor came a strange roar, such as I had heard on the edge of the Great Greenping Mire.The sound rode the wind through the dark night sky, first a long, deep moan, then a loud roar, then a miserable moan, and then disappeared.The sound came out in bursts, piercing, wild and frightening, and the whole space throbbed with it.The Baronet grabbed my sleeve, his face pale in the darkness.

"My God, what's that, Watson?"

"I don't know. It was from the moor. I heard it once."

There was no sound anymore, and dead silence surrounded us tightly.We stood and listened, but heard nothing.

"Watson," said the baronet, "this is the bark of the hounds."

I felt my blood go cold all over my body, because the pauses in his words showed that he suddenly developed fear.

"What do they call that sound?" he asked.

"Who is it?"

"Country people!"

"Oh, they are uneducated people, why do you mind what they call that voice!"

"Tell me, Watson, what did they say?"

I hesitated, unable to escape the question. "They say that's the barking of the Hound of the Baskervilles." He muttered for a moment, then fell silent for a moment. "It's a hound," he said at last, "but It seemed to be coming from miles away, I think it was over there."

"I can't tell where it came from."

"The sound rises and falls with the wind. Isn't that the direction of Great Green Meadows?"

"Yep."

"Oh, there it is. Now, Watson, don't you think that's the barking of the hounds? I'm not a child, so don't be afraid, just tell the truth."

"I was with Stapleton when I heard it last. He said it might be some strange bird call."

"No, no, that's the Hound. My God, is there any truth in that legend? You don't believe it, do you, Watson."

"No, I don't believe it at all."

"It would have been a joke in London, but here, standing in the dark on the moor, and hearing such barks, it's quite different. My uncle died, and there were hounds beside where he lay. The footprints, and they all come together. I don't think I'm a coward, Watson, but that sound makes my blood freeze. Touch my hand!"

His hand was as cold as a stone.

"Tomorrow will be fine."

"I think that cry is stuck in my head. What do you think we should do now?"

"Shall we go back?"

"No, never, we are out to catch fugitives, and we must go on. We are hunting for criminals, but there may be a devilish hound on our trail. Come on! Even if all the monsters in the cave Put it in the swamp, and we must persist to the end."

We stumbled forward in the dark, surrounded by dark and jagged mountain shadows, and the yellow light spot was still shining steadily ahead.On such a dark night, nothing can be more deceiving than the distance of a light, which sometimes seems to be far away on the horizon, and sometimes seems to be close at hand.When we finally saw where it was placed, we knew we were close.A candle dripping with wax was stuck in a crevice of rocks, shielded on both sides by the rocks, so as not to be blown out by the wind, but also to be hidden from view in any direction other than Baskerville Hall.A protruding granite block hides us.So we crouched behind it, watching the signal light from above the stone.It was a strange thing to see a candle burning in the middle of a moor, with no sign of life around it--only a yellow flame standing upright, and the illuminated rocks on either side of it.

"What shall we do now?" whispered Sir Henry.

"Just wait here. He must be near the candle. See if we can see him."

No sooner had I spoken than we saw him, a hideous yellow face poking out from behind the rock near the candle--a frightful beastly face, fleshy and filthy, with a thick, bristly beard. , with disheveled hair, very much like the savages who lived in the caves on the side of the mountain in ancient times.His small cunning eyes, glinting from the candle below him, were turning horribly to the left and right into the darkness, like a cunning beast that has heard the hunter's footsteps.

Something had evidently aroused his suspicions.Maybe he has some secret signal with Barrymore, we don't know, or maybe the guy feels something is wrong based on something, because I can see the look of fear from his fierce face.Concerned that every second he might burst out of the light and disappear into the darkness, I sprang forward, and Sir Henry followed.

At this moment, the criminal cursed us sharply, and threw a stone, which shattered on the boulder that covered us.When he jumped up and turned to run away, it happened that the moonlight had just shone through a gap in the clouds, and I saw at a glance that he was a short, fat and strong figure.We charged over the hill, and the man sprinted down the side of the hill, jumping up and down the boulders with goat-like motions all the way.If I had shot him with a revolver, by accident I might have crippled him, but I used it only for self-defense when I was attacked, not for an unarmed fugitive.

We were all fast and fairly well trained, but we soon knew there was no hope of catching him.We saw him for a long time in the moonlight, and he was a swiftly moving speck among the rocks on the side of a distant hill.We ran and ran until we were exhausted, but the distance between him and us grew wider and wider.Finally, we slumped on two big rocks, panting and watching him disappear into the distance.

Just then, something unexpected happened.By then we had risen from the rock, abandoned the pursuit, and were about to turn and go home.The Moon hangs low in the sky on the right, a granite spire set off by the lower half of the full Moon.In front of the bright background, I saw the figure of a man standing on the top of the rock like a black bronze statue.Don't think that it is an illusion, Holmes.I daresay I have never seen it so clearly in my life.From what I could tell, it was a tall, thin man.He stood with legs slightly apart, arms folded, and head bowed, as if he were contemplating something over the vast peat and rocky wilderness before him.He may be the spirit of that dreadful place.He is not a fugitive, the direction of the fugitive's escape is far away from him, and he is also much higher.I uttered an exclamation, and pointed to the baronet, but the moment I turned and grabbed his arm, the man was gone.The granite spire still hid the lower half of the moon at this moment, but there was no longer the motionless figure on that spire.

I wanted to go in that direction and search the rock, but it was too far away.The baronet had been so tense since the cry that reminded him of his family's dire story that he had no desire to take any further risks.He did not see the solitary figure on the top of the rock, so he did not feel the creepy feeling that his strange presence and his majestic air gave me.

"It's a jailer, no mistake," he said. "After getting away from this guy, the moor is full of these people."

Well, maybe his explanation is correct, but I don't believe it without more certain evidence.Today we intend to send a telegram to the people of Princetown, telling them where they should go to find the fugitive.It is very unlucky to say that we did not bring him back as our prisoner.That's the risk we took last night.You must admit, my dear Holmes, that I have done a good job for you, as far as my report is concerned.Much of what I have told you is undoubtedly irrelevant, but I have always felt that I had better give you all the facts, and leave you to choose for yourself which clues will most help you to draw your conclusions.Of course we've made some progress, and in Barrymore's case, we've found out the motives for his actions, which makes the whole situation a lot clearer.But the mysterious moor and its strange inhabitants are still confusing, and perhaps in my next report I will be able to make this clearer.It is best that you come to us.In any case, you will hear from me again in a few days.

From Baskerville Hall

October [-]

X. Excerpts from Dr. Watson's Diary

All of the foregoing are citing reports previously sent to Sherlock Holmes.But at this point, I have to give up this method and turn to my diary at that time and rely on my memories.A diary reminds me of those exhaustive scenes that are indelible in my mind.Well, I shall begin with the morning of our adventure, after our vain pursuit of fugitives in the moor.

On October [-], it was cloudy, foggy and drizzled.The house is shrouded in thick fog, which rises from time to time, revealing the undulating moorland of the desert. In a gloomy atmosphere.The terror of the night had put the Baronet in a very bad mood; mine was also very heavy, with a sense of imminent danger--a sense of danger which was always there, and which, because I could not express it, was all the more dreadful.

Is there no reason for my feeling?Looking back at this long series of unexpected events that have occurred in succession, it will be clear that they all show that a planned conspiracy is quietly going on all around us.The death of the previous owner of the estate fulfilled exactly the family legend, and gave rise to what the peasants had repeatedly claimed was the monster of the moor.Twice I have heard with my own ears what sounded like a hound howling at a distance. Is this really supernatural?

(End of this chapter)