The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 131 The Hound of the Baskervilles (12)
It is neither believable nor possible.It is unimaginable that a magic dog can leave paw prints and howl at the same time.Stapleton might believe this nonsense, and so might Mortimer, but with a little common sense I wouldn't believe such a thing anyway.If I believed this too, it would be tantamount to willingly lowering myself to the level of these poor peasants.Not only did they describe the dog as a monster, but they even added fuel and vinegar to describe it as a mouth and eyes that can spew hellfire.Holmes will never believe such absurd claims, and I am his agent.Twice I have heard this call in the moor.But a fact is a fact, and if some big hound had come out on the moor, it would explain everything.But where could such a hound hide?Where does it find food?Where did it come from?Why didn't anyone see it during the day?It is undeniable that it is difficult to tell whether it is an explanation that conforms to the laws of nature or an explanation that does not conform to the laws of nature.Leaving aside the hound for a moment, the "man" found in London is always the truth!The man in the carriage, and the letter warning Sir Henry not to come to the moor, are these true?It could be the doing of a friend trying to protect him, but it could equally be the doing of an enemy.Where is that friend or enemy now?Is he still in London, or has he followed us here?Could he...could it be the stranger I saw standing on the ledge?
Although I only glanced at him, there are a few things I can be sure of.

He is by no means the man I have met here, as I have met all the neighbors.It was much taller than Stapleton and much thinner than Frankland.It might have been Barrymore, but we've left him at home, and I'm sure he won't keep up with us.So someone else must have followed us, just as a stranger followed us in London, and we have not been able to get rid of him.If we can catch that person, then all our doubts will be solved.In order to accomplish this goal, I must go all out.

My first thought was to tell Sir Henry my whole plan; my second, which I thought was the wisest, was to carry it out by myself, and talk of it to no one.Jazz is silent and dazed now, the strange sound of the marsh has greatly shocked his nerves, I don't want to use anything to increase his anxiety, in order to achieve my established goal, I must take action alone immediately .

After breakfast, another small incident happened.Barrymore asked to speak to Sir Henry alone, and they talked for a while behind closed doors in his study.Sitting in the billiard room, I heard conversations rise several times, and I knew exactly what they were talking about.After a while the baronet opened the door and let me in.

"Barrymore thinks he has a little resentment," he said. "He thinks it's unfair that we go after his brother-in-law after he voluntarily told us the secret."

The butler stood in front of us with a pale but calm face.

"Perhaps I have spoken too much, my lord," said he; "if so, I beseech your pardon. But when I heard you two come back in the morning, and learned that you were after Seldan, It astonished me very much. The poor fellow, he'll get through without me giving him any more trouble."

"If you had told us of your own free will, perhaps it would not have been so," said the baron, "but the fact is that you, or rather your wife, did not tell us when it was absolutely necessary."

"I did not expect you to take advantage of that, Sir Henry . . . I did not."

"This man is a danger to society. There are lone families all over the moor, and he's a desperado, and you can see that just by looking at him. Look at Staple, for example. Mr. Tun's house, he alone can protect it. No one will feel safe until Seldan is back in prison."

"He will never break into anyone's house, my lord, I can swear to you. He will not disturb anyone here again, and I assure you, Sir Henry, arrangements will be made in a few days." , he can go to South America. For God's sake, my lord, I beg you not to let the police know that he is still in the moor. The police have given up on him, and he can always hide in the moor quietly, Till we have our ships ready. If you denounce him, my wife and I will be in trouble. I beg you, my lord, to say nothing to the police."

"What do you think, Watson?"

I shrugged and said, "If he can leave the country safely, it will save taxpayers a burden."

"But will he commit another crime before he leaves?"

"He will not lose his mind, my lord. We have provided him with everything he needs. Another crime will reveal his hiding place."

"That's true," said Sir Henry. "Well, Barrymore..."

"God bless you, Monseigneur, and I am most grateful to you! If he is arrested again, my unfortunate wife will die."

"I suppose we are covering up a serious crime, Watson? But after hearing what he has just said, it seems to me that the man can no longer be prosecuted. So be it! Well, Barrymore." ,you can go now."

The man turned away while murmuring some words of thanks, but he hesitated and turned back.

"You have been very kind to us, my lord, and I will do all I can to repay you. I know one thing, Sir Henry, and perhaps I should have said it long ago, but I did not discover it until long after the post-mortem." .I haven't mentioned it to anyone about it. It's about Sir Childs' death."

The baronet and I rose to our feet. "Do you know how he died?"

"No, my lord, I don't know that."

"So, what do you know?"

"I know why he was standing by that door at the time, he was going to meet a woman."

"To meet a woman! Him?"

"Yes, my lord."

"What's that woman's name?"

"I cannot tell you her name, my lord, but I can tell you that it begins with LL."

"How do you know that, Barrymore?"

"Ah, Sir Henry, your uncle got a letter that morning. He gets a lot of letters every day, because he's famous and he's known to have a good heart. So, whoever is in trouble, likes to Asked him for help. But that morning there happened to be only one letter, so it attracted my special attention. It was postmarked Combe Tracy, and it was in a woman's handwriting."

"Ok?"

"Oh, my lord, if it hadn't been for my wife I should never have thought of it, perhaps I should never have. A few weeks ago my wife was clearing out Sir Childs' study, which The room hadn't been touched since his death. She found the ashes of a burnt letter in the fireplace. Most of the letter had been charred and crumbled into little pieces, except for a strip at the end that was still intact. , the handwriting is gray and white, and you can still see it. It looks like a postscript at the end of the letter, which reads: "You are a gentleman, please burn this letter and arrive at the gate at ten o'clock. to the door.' Below is the signature with the initials LL."

"Is that note still with you?"

"No, my lord, it will shatter if we touch it."

"Did Sir Childs ever receive a letter in the same handwriting?"

"Oh, my lord, I did not pay any particular attention to his letter. It was only because it was sent separately that it attracted my attention."

"Don't you know who LL is?"

"I don't know, my lord. I don't know much more than you do. But I think if we can find the lady, we may learn more about Sir Childs' death."

"It's inexplicable, Barrymore, how you can keep a situation of this importance under wraps?"

"Oh, my lord, our own troubles were just beginning to take hold of us. And, my lord, Sir Childs was both of us so dear to us that we could not fail to take into account his great kindness to us. We thought that the matter It's not doing our poor master any good to tell the story, and it involves a lady in the matter, so be careful, of course. Even the best of us . . . "

"Do you think that will damage my uncle's reputation?"

"Well, my lord, I don't think it will end well. But you have been so kind to us now that I feel I would be ungrateful if I did not tell you all this."

"Very well, Barrymore, you may go." Sir Henry turned to me when the butler had gone. "Well, Watson, what do you think of this new discovery?"

"It seems to be another difficult problem, making it more complicated than before."

"I think so too. But as long as we can find out about LL, the whole problem may be clear. There are so many clues we can get. We already know that someone knows the truth of the matter. As long as we can find her That's it. How do you think we should do it?"

"Report the whole story to Holmes at once, and this will give him the clues he has been looking for. It will be a strange thing if this does not attract him here."

I retired to my room at once, and wrote to Holmes my report of the conversation that had taken place this morning.I was well aware that he had been very busy lately, for the letters from Baker Street were few and short and made no comments on the information I had reported to him, let alone my mission.No doubt his mind was already absorbed in the case of the anonymous threatening letter.A new development, however, would surely attract his attention and renew his interest in the case.How good it would be if he were here now.

October [-]th--It rained heavily all day, the ivy was drenched and the water from the eaves never stopped.I thought of the fugitive in the bleak, cold swamp with no shelter from the rain.Poor man!No matter what crime he committed, he has suffered so much now, and he has finally received his retribution.I thought of another man—that face in the carriage, that figure before the moon, that hidden watcher—was he, too, in the pouring rain?In the evening, I put on my raincoat and rainshoes, and walked a long way in the wet swamp, filled with horrible imaginations. The rain hit my face hard, and the wind blew by my ears.

May God bless those who are stranded in the great mire, for even the hard plateaus are already muddy.At last I found the black crag on which I saw the solitary watcher, and from the craggy top I looked out over the stormy plateau.The strong wind and torrential rain swept across the reddish-brown ground, thick clouds suspended low above the ground, and a few wisps of gray residual cloud dragged along the side of the strange-shaped mountain.In the ravine far to the left, the two slender towers of Baskerville Hall rose, half hidden by the mist, high up in the woods.That was the only sign of human life I could see, save for the prehistoric huts that dotted the hillside.There was no trace of the lonely figure seen in this place the night before.

As I was walking back, I met Dr. Mortimer, driving a hansom along a bumpy moor path leading to the outlying Foumel farmhouse.He cared so much about us that he came to the estate almost every day to see how we were doing.He insisted on my carriage, so I took him home.I know he has been very troubled of late by the disappearance of the little spaniel; the puppy has never returned since it once went off into the moor.I did my best to comfort him, but as soon as I thought of the pony in the Greenping Mire, I was sure he would never see the puppy again.

"I say, Mortimer," said I, as we bumped over the rough road, "that I suppose there is no house in this country within reach of a carriage that you don't know?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, do you know any women whose names begin with LL?"

He thought for a few minutes.

"I don't know," said he, "I don't know of a few gypsies and drudges, and there isn't a single farmer or squire here who starts with that. Oh, wait a minute," he said. After a pause, he added, "There's a Laura Lyons—her name begins LL—but she lives in Combe Tracy."

"Who is she?" I asked.

"She's Frankland's daughter."

"What? Is that old nervous Frankland?"

"Exactly, she married a painter named Lyons who came to the moor to sketch. But he was a complete villain, and he deserted her. From what I've heard, the fault may not have been entirely In him. Her father doesn't care about anything about her, because her father doesn't agree with her marriage at all, and there may be other reasons. There is a discord between the old fellow and his daughter, which makes the woman's life very embarrassing."

"Then how does she live?"

"I think old Frankland will give her some money, but probably not much, because his own affairs are enough for him. Even if she deserves what she deserves, don't let her be irredeemably depraved. Her affairs When the word got out, some people tried to help her to make a decent life. Stapleton and Childs helped her, and I gave a little money, to set her up as a typewriter. .”

He wanted to know what my purpose was in asking these questions, but I couldn't satisfy his curiosity and didn't tell him much, since I had no reason to trust anyone completely.I'm going to Coombe Tracy tomorrow morning.If I could see the notorious Mrs. Laura Lyons, it would be a further step in the investigation of this mysterious chain of events.I thought I was as clever as a snake, for when Mortimer pressed me too hard to answer, I asked him casually what kind of skull Frankland had.In this way, until we reached our destination, we talked about nothing but skull science.I have not spent so many years with Sherlock Holmes.

In this stormy and gloomy weather there is only one thing worth recording.

That's the conversation I had with Barrymore just now, and he gave me another good card to show up at the right time.

Mortimer stayed to supper, after which he and the baronet played cards.

The butler brought me coffee to the study, and I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions.

"Ah," said I, "is your good relative gone, or still hiding in the moor?"

"I don't know, sir. I hope he's gone, because he's only a nuisance here. I haven't heard from him since I last sent him food. It's been three days." gone."

"Did you see him that time?"

"No, sir, but when I went there again the food was gone."

"Then he must still be there?"

"Sir, unless the food is taken by that other man, you must think he is still there."

I was drinking coffee, and before I brought it to my mouth, I stared at him and asked, "So, do you know there is another person?"

"Yes, sir, there is another man in the moor."

"Have you seen him?"

"No, sir."

"Then how do you know?"

"It was Seldan who told me about it a week or so ago, sir. He's hiding there too, but I don't think he's a fugitive. It's such a troublesome thing, Dr. Watson--I To be frank with you, sir, these things really bother me," he said with sudden earnestness and earnestness.

"Now, listen to me, Barrymore! I am only protecting your master, otherwise I have no interest in such matters. I have come here for no other purpose than to help him. Tell me frankly, what is it?" What troubles you so much?"

Barrymore hesitated for a moment, seeming to regret blurting out or to find it difficult to express his feelings in words.

"That's what goes on, sir," he exclaimed, waving his hand over the rain-washed window that opened out onto the moor, "I'm sure there's an assassination going on there, something brewing. A dreadful conspiracy! Sir, I wish Sir Henry could return to London."

"But what is it that makes you so frightened?"

"Look at the death of Sir Childs! Take what the coroner said, and it's bad enough. Look at the strange noises in the moor at night, after sundown, no matter how much you give Ken walked across the moor. And there was the man hiding there, waiting! What was he waiting for? For what purpose? None of this meant anything to any of the Baskervilles. Good thing. I shall be glad to be out of here when Sir Henry's new servants come to take over the estate."

"But about this stranger in the moor," said I, "can you tell me anything? What did Seldan say? Has he found his hiding-place? Has he found out what he is doing?"

"Seldan saw him once or twice. He was a very sinister fellow, and he didn't reveal anything. At first Seldan thought that the man might be a policeman, but he soon discovered that the man had other intentions. According to his observation, the man The man seemed to be a gentleman, but he couldn't figure out what the man was up to."

"Did he say where the man lived?"

(End of this chapter)