The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 134 The Hound of the Baskervilles (15)
Holmes lowered his voice when he answered: "It was murder, Watson, a deliberate and ruthless murder. Don't ask me for details. Just as his net was around Sir Henry, I will His net is tightly enfolding him, and with your assistance, he is almost in my pocket. We have one more thing to worry about, that is, he may strike before we take action. After that One day -- two days at the most -- I'll close this case, and until then you'll have to watch over the person you're protecting like a loving mother watches over a sick child. As it turns out, what you've done today True, but I wish you were better with him. Listen!"

A terrible scream--a continuous cry of fear and rage broke the silence of the moor.That horrible cry almost made my blood coagulate all over my body.

"Oh my God!" I gasped. "What is this? What happened?"

Holmes sprang to his feet, and I saw his athletic figure blocking the door of the cell, his shoulders drooping, his head thrust forward, and looking into the darkness.

"Hush!" he said softly. "Keep quiet."

Because of the urgency of the situation, the shout was loud, and at first it came from a distant place on the dark plain.Now the voice is getting closer, louder, and more urgent.

"Which side?" asked Holmes in a low voice.From the excited voice of such a strong man, I knew that he was also deeply shocked, "Which side is it, Watson?"

"I think it's over there." I pointed into the darkness.

"No, it's over there."

The cries of pain pierced the quiet night again, louder and closer than before.There was a new sound in the mix, a deep grunt, melodious and terrifying, rising and falling like the never-ending murmur of the sea.

"The Hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson! Come. Good heavens! I fear we are too late!"

Immediately he broke into a gallop across the moor, and I followed him.But suddenly, right in front of us, from the jagged and uneven patch of broken stone, there came a last cry of despair, followed by a vague and heavy thud.We stood and listened, and there was no other sound on this windless night.

I saw Holmes stamping his foot with his hand on his brow like a deranged man.

"He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late."

"No, no, definitely not."

"What a fool I was to take no action, and you, Watson, now know the consequences of leaving the man you are supposed to protect! My God! If the unfortunate thing happens, we will have to complain to him." Revenge."

We scuttled along in the dark, bumping into boulders, squeezed our way through gorse bushes, up the hill out of breath, and down another slope, toward the Go in the direction where the scary sound came from.At each height Holmes looked anxiously about him, but the moor was so dark that there was no movement on the desolate ground.

"Did you see something?"

"I didn't see anything."

"But listen, what is that sound?"

We heard a low moan, to our left!

On that side there was a ledge, which ended in a steep cliff, and from there a stony slope could be seen.On the uneven ground, there was a pile of dark, irregularly shaped objects.As we ran closer to it, the vague outline became more and more distinct.It turned out to be a person lying on the ground, with his head bent towards his chest and his body curled up into a ball, as if he was going to somersault.He looked so strange that I couldn't believe at the time that the groan I heard just now was the last sound he uttered.The man we were bending over didn't speak or move.Holmes seized him and lifted him up, with a cry of horror.He struck a match, and the light showed the dead man's clenched fingers, his broken head, and a horrible, slowly expanding pool of blood.The firelight also illuminated another thing that made our hearts ache—it was the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!

Neither of us could ever forget that particular red tweed suit—the one he wore on Baker Street that first morning.We had only one distinct look, and the match flickered and died, as if hope had left our souls.Holmes groaned, and his pale face could be seen in the darkness.

"Bastard! The brute!" I cried, clenching my fists. "I can never forgive myself, Holmes, for leaving him at the hands of him."

"I have been more guilty than you, Watson. I have risked the life of our client in order to prepare every aspect of the case. This is what I have been subjected to in my professional life. Biggest blow. But how did I know—how did I know—that he would risk his life and come into the moor alone, in spite of my repeated warnings?"

"We heard his cry--My God, the cry!--but it could not save him! Where is the hound that killed him? It may be wandering among the rocks. And Stapleton, where is he? He must be punished."

"Certainly. I promise that he will be punished. Both uncle and nephew have been killed--one was frightened to death at the sight of the beast he thought was a monster; Not escaped death. Now we must try to prove the connection between the man and the hound. If we had not heard the voice, we would not even believe the existence of the beast, because Sir Henry obviously fell to his death. However, God testifies, no matter how cunning he is, I must catch this guy before tomorrow!"

We stand beside this mangled body in grief, we have labored for so long, but at the end of this tragedy, this irreparable accident weighs heavily on us.Later, after moonrise, we climbed to the highest point of the rock where our unfortunate friend had fallen, and from the summit looked down into the dark moor.There was a silvery light flickering in the darkness, and miles away, towards Greenping, there was a single yellow fire that could only have come from the lonely Stapleton house.I looked forward and shook my fist furiously at it, cursing viciously.

"Why don't we go and get him now?"

"We don't have all the evidence yet, that guy is really wily. The question is not how much we have, but what we can prove. If we make a wrong move, the guy could slip out of our hands. "

"Then what should we do?"

"Tomorrow we have a lot to do, and tonight we can only attend to the funeral of our poor friend."

We walked down the steep slope together, towards the body.On the stone reflecting the silver light, the black body was clearly seen, and the painful appearance of twisted limbs made me extremely sad, and tears blurred my eyes.

"We must get help, Holmes! Neither of us can carry him to the Manor..." Before I could finish my sentence, I heard him cry out, and stoop over the body.Seeing this, I couldn't help shouting: "My God, are you crazy!" Holmes danced and laughed and shook my hand.Is this my strict and reserved friend?It must be that the fire in his heart can no longer hold back!
"Beard! Beard! This man has a beard!"

"Have a beard?"

"He's not a baronet . . . it's . . . ah, my neighbour, the fugitive!"

I quickly turned the dead body over, and the beard dripping with blood was tilted towards the deserted moon.A look at his protruding forehead and animal-like deep-set eyes are unmistakable. It is indeed the face I saw hidden behind the stone that day by the candlelight-the face of the fugitive Seldan.

I understood at once, and I remembered that the baronet had told me that he had given Barrymore his old clothes.Barrymore forwarded these clothes to help Celdan escape, boots, shirt, hat--all belonged to Sir Henry.The tragic ending was bad enough, but according to the laws of the country, at least this man deserved what he deserved.I told Holmes the cause of the matter, and thankfully, the joy in my heart made all my blood boil with it.

"It was the suit, then, that killed the ruffian," said he, "and it is evident that the hound was set out on the trail after it sniffed something in Sir Henry's—most likely That tall shoe that was stolen in the hotel--so the dog would chase him till he fell to his death. But it was very strange how, in the dark, Seldan knew that the Hound was following him What about behind?"

"He heard the dog's voice."

"The mere hearing of a hound in the moor did not frighten the desperado enough to call for help, even at the risk of being arrested again. Judging by his cry, he knew that the dog was chasing him." He must have run a long way afterward. How did he know?"

"One more thing, I find it very mysterious, assuming our deduction is completely correct, then why is this dog..."

"I'm not speculating."

"Ah, then why was the dog let out to-night? I don't think the dog could have been wandering about the moor every day. Unless Stapleton knew Sir Henry was going there, he wouldn't have Will put it in the moor."

"Mine is more of a problem than the two, and I think yours will soon be answered, but mine may remain a mystery forever. The question at hand is what to do with the poor wretch. A corpse? We can't throw him here to feed foxes and crows!"

"I feel like putting him in a shed before we get in touch with the police."

"Yes, I believe we can lift him. Ah, Watson, what is the matter? It is he, what audacity! Don't you say a word of doubt, not a word, or my whole plan will be lost." It's all over."

On the moor, a man was coming towards us, and I saw the little red spots of cigar butts.The moonlight shone on him, and I could see that it was the short and dapper biologist, his steps were brisk and triumphant.He stopped as soon as he saw us, then came over again.

"Oh, Dr. Watson, it can't be you, can it? I didn't expect to see you in the moor at this late hour. Oh, my God, what's the matter? Is anyone hurt? No-- -Don't tell me it's our friend Sir Henry!" He hurried past us, stooping over the dead man.He suddenly took a deep breath, and the cigar between his fingers fell off.

"Who, who is this?" he stammered.

"It's Seldan, the one who got away from Princetown."

Stapleton turned to us, pale.He suppressed his alarm and disappointment as best he could, and kept his eyes on Holmes and me.

"My God! How unbelievable! How did he die?"

"It looked as if he fell off a rock and broke his neck. My friend and I were walking in the moor when we heard the shout."

"I also ran out when I heard the shouting. I was very worried for Sir Henry."

"Why worry only about Sir Henry?" I couldn't help asking.

"Because I asked him to come, but he didn't come. I was taken aback, so when I heard the shouts from the moor, I was naturally worried for his safety." His eyes suddenly turned to Holmes. Did you hear anything besides the shout?"

"No," said Holmes. "And you?"

"nor."

"Excuse me, why do you ask such a question?"

"Ah, you must have heard that there is a story about that ghostly dog. It is said that its barking can be heard in the moor at night. I was wondering if there was such a sound tonight. .”

"We haven't heard anything like that," I said.

"How do you think the poor fellow died?"

"I'm sure the long-term tension and rough living drove him mad. He must have been running madly in the moor before he fell down here and broke his neck."

"That's the most plausible explanation," said Stapleton, with a sigh.He seemed relieved. "What do you think, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

My friend bowed in return.

"You recognize people really quickly," he said.

"When Dr. Watson came here, the neighbors knew that you were coming too. You were in time to see this tragedy."

"Yes, that is so, and I believe my friend's explanation corresponds to all the facts. I shall be returning to London to-morrow with unpleasant recollections."

"Oh, are you going back tomorrow?"

"That's my plan."

"This visit of yours, I more or less hope to solve the mystery that has puzzled us so much."

Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

"People don't always have everything they want. Investigations need facts, not legends and rumors. This case should have failed by now."

My friend is very frank and casual in his speech.Stapleton was still staring at him, then he turned to me again.

"I would have suggested that the poor fellow be carried to my house, but it would scare my sister, so I thought it best not to. I wanted to cover his head with something to keep him safe tonight It's all right, let's figure it out tomorrow morning."

And so it was arranged.We declined Stapleton's kind invitation, and walked to Baskerville Park, and the biologist walked home alone.We looked back and saw that figure was still moving slowly into the distance on the vast swamp.Behind him, on the hillside in the white moonlight, was a dark spot where the unfortunate man lay dead.

Thirteen, set up a network

"He has fallen into our hands at last," said Holmes, as we walked across the moor together. "What a strong nerve the fellow is! He was astonished, and so calm. I have told you in London, Watson, and I repeat now, that we have never met a more worthy foe."

"It's a pity he saw you."

"I thought so at first, but it was inevitable."

"Now that he knows you're here, do you think he'll change his plans?"

"He may become more cautious, or he may immediately resort to desperate measures. Like most clever criminals, he may overestimate his own cleverness and think we have been completely fooled by him."

"Why don't we arrest him at once?"

"My dear Watson, you are naturally quick-tempered, and your instincts always make you want to have a good time. Just think, what good will it do us if we arrest him to-night? We There is no evidence of his crime yet. There is devil-like cunning here, and if he is acting through a person, we can find some evidence, but if we pull this big dog out in broad daylight, it will be very serious. Our plan to put a rope around its owner's neck is not helping."

"Of course we have evidence."

"We don't even have evidence yet - our evidence is just speculation and conjecture. If all we had was a story and 'evidence', we'd be laughed out of court .”

"Isn't the death of Sir Childs proof?"

"He died without any marks on his body, although we know he was frightened to death, and we know what frightened him to death. But how can we convince twelve jurors of this? Where are the hounds Where is the trace of its teeth? Of course we know that hounds don't bite dead bodies, and Sir Childs died before the brute caught up with him. We have to prove these things, but There is nothing you can do now.”

"Then, can't what happened tonight also prove it?"

"We don't know much about tonight's situation. Like last time, the hunting dog has no direct connection with the man's death. We haven't seen the hunting dog. Although we heard its voice, it doesn't prove that it followed Behind that man, there is simply no reason. No, dear partner, we must admit a fact: we have not yet reached a complete and reasonable conclusion on this case, and any risky action that can lead to a reasonable conclusion is worth our time Dry."

"What do you think should be done?"

"I think Mrs. Laura Lyons can be of great help to us, if only we can tell her the truth. Besides, I have other plans. Just take care of today, why worry about tomorrow? But I Hopefully tomorrow will prevail."

I could get no more questions out of him, and he walked, brooding, before reaching the gates of Baskerville Hall.

"Are you going in too?"

"Well, I have no reason to hide anymore. But I have one word to tell you, Watson. Never tell Sir Henry about the Hound, and let him think of Seldan's death as as Stapleton would have us believe. That way he will be strong enough to face what he will have to endure tomorrow. If I remember your report correctly, they have arranged to eat at Stapleton's tomorrow. For dinner."

"They invited me."

"Then, you have to find an excuse to decline. He must go alone, so it can be arranged. It's past the time for dinner now, and I think the two of us can have supper."

(End of this chapter)