The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 135 The Hound of the Baskervilles (16)
Sir Henry was more pleased than surprised to see Sherlock Holmes, for he had been looking forward to it for some days, and hoped that recent events would bring him here from London.However, when he found that Holmes had neither brought any luggage nor explained the reason for his absence, he showed a look of surprise.We distributed Holmes with his daily necessities.At supper we told him as much as the baronet should know of what had happened to him, as best we could.Besides, I will tell the Barrymores the sad news.This might have been a great relief to Barrymore, but his wife snatched up her apron and wept bitterly.To the world, he is a ferocious, half-beast, half-demon; but in her heart, he will always be the willful man who was with her when she was a child, holding her hand tightly. child.This man was really a heinous man, and there was not even a woman who cried for him when he was dying.

"I have been morosely at home since Watson went out that morning," said the baronet, "and I think I should be commended for keeping my word. If I had not sworn never to go out alone, perhaps I would have I shall have a pleasant evening, for I have a letter from Stapleton asking me to come to him."

"I am sure you would have had a more pleasant evening if you had gone," said Holmes dryly. "However, we thought you had a broken neck, and I think you always You're not going to be happy about that, are you?"

Sir Henry's eyes widened and he asked in surprise, "What's the matter?"

"The poor wretch is wearing your clothes, which your servants gave him, I suppose. Maybe the police will come and make trouble for him."

"I'm afraid not. As far as I know, there are no marks on those clothes."

"Then he's lucky--in fact, you're all lucky, because in this case you've all been legally guilty. As a true detective, I'm almost certain that my duty, first and foremost, is to Your whole family is under arrest. Watson's report is the strongest evidence against you."

"But what about our case?" asked the baronet. "It's a mess. Have you found any clues? I don't think Watson and I have been doing well since we came here." clever."

"I think I shall soon be clearer. The case is extremely difficult and complicated, and there are still points which we do not understand--but the truth will soon be revealed."

"Watson must have told you that we met once and heard the hound barking in the moor, so I can swear it was not all superstition. In the American West I kept I’ve had a dog for a while, and I’ll know it when I hear it. If you can put a bridle and a chain on this dog, I’ll swear that you’re a great detective.”

"I think I can put a bridle and a chain on him if you will help me."

"As long as you tell me, I will do anything."

"Very well, I have to ask you to just do it instead of asking why, why."

"I listen to you."

"If you do this, I think our little problem will be solved quickly. I believe—"

He stopped suddenly, staring intently above my head.The light shone on his face, so intent and quiet it was almost a classically chiseled sculpture—the personification of alertness and hope.

"What?" We both stood up.

As he looked down, I could see that he was suppressing his excitement.Although his expression was still calm and composed, his eyes shone with ecstasy.

"Forgive the connoisseur's admiration," he said, waving his finger at a row of portraits on the opposite wall. "Watson would never admit that I knew anything about art, but he was only out of jealousy, because We often have very different perspectives on a piece of work. Ah, these portraits are beautifully drawn."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear you say that," said Sir Henry, looking at my friend with astonishment. "I don't dare to be an expert in these things. My opinion of a horse or a steer is as good as that of a horse or steer." Much more than a painting. I didn't know you had time for such things."

"I can see what's good in a picture at a glance. I can see it now. I can swear it's Naylor's picture, that's the woman over there in blue silk; and that The plump gentleman in the wig is by Reynolds. I suppose these are portraits of your family?"

"All."

"Do you know all the names?"

"Barrymore told me at length once, and I think I remember it."

"Who is that gentleman with the telescope?"

"That's Rear Admiral Baskerville, serving under Rodney in the West Indies. That man in the blue coat with the roll of paper is Sir William Baskerville, member of the House of Commons Committee when Pitt was Prime Minister. Chairman."

"Where is this knight across from me—the one in the black velvet cloak and sash?"

"Ah, you must know him—Hugo, the villainous man, the source of family disasters, and the legend of the Hound of the Baskervilles began with him. We shall not forget him."

I looked at the portrait with wonder and interest.

"Good heavens!" said Holmes, "he looks like a serene and gentle man, but I dare say there is something surly in his eyes. And I imagine him to be more violent and violent than that." Much more vicious."

"The authenticity of this portrait cannot be doubted because the name and the year '1647' are on the back of the canvas."

Holmes said no more, but he seemed obsessed with the portrait of the old drunkard, and continued to stare at it during supper.I did not know what Sir Henry was thinking until later, when he had gone to his own rooms.He led me back to the banquet hall again, holding up the dormitory candle in his hand, illuminating the portraits on the walls that were dimmed with age.

"Did you see anything in the portrait?"

I looked at the wide-brimmed hat with feathers, the curly hair on the forehead, the collar with white lace and the serious face in the middle. Although it was not violent, it also made people feel rude, cold and severe. , thin lips, tightly shut, and a pair of indifferent and stubborn eyes.

"Is it like someone you know?"

"A bit like Sir Henry's jaw."

"A little bit. Wait!" He stood on a chair, held the candle in his left hand, and bent his right arm over his wide-brimmed hat and long hanging curls.

"My God!" I couldn't help exclaiming, as if Stapleton's face jumped out of the canvas.

"Haha, you can see it. My eyes have been trained to recognize faces beyond the attached ornaments. This is the first skill of being a detective, and I should be able to see through any disguise."

"Simply wonderful, perhaps this is his portrait."

"Yeah, it's an interesting instance of atavism indeed, both physical and mental. Studying family portraits would give credence to the idea of ​​reincarnation in an afterlife. Apparently, that fellow was the Baskervilles." Descendants."

"There is also a plot to usurp the inheritance of the property."

"Indeed, this portrait also happens to furnish us with a clue which is obviously most desperately needed. We have him, Watson, we have him. I swear he will be there before tomorrow night." In our net, fluttering hopelessly like a butterfly he himself catches. Just a needle, a piece of cork, and a card, and we can put him in the herbarium in Baker Street Already!"

As he left the portrait, he burst out laughing.I don't hear him laugh very often, and when he does, it means someone is in trouble.

I rose early the next morning, but Holmes was earlier than I, for as I was dressing I saw him coming back down the drive.

"Ah, today we have to fuck him well for a day!" He rubbed his hands with joy before the action, "The net has been laid, and we are going to pull it back. There will be a result today, after all, we put Did the barracuda catch it, or did it slip through our nets."

"Have you ever been in the moor?"

"I've sent a report in Green Meadows about Celdan's death to Princetown. I think I can promise that none of you will get in trouble for it again. I'm still with my Faithful Cartley made contact, and if I did not let him know that I was safe, he would languish and die at the door of my hut like a dog at his master's grave."

"What's the next step?"

"Consult it with Sir Henry. Ah, here he comes!"

"Good morning, Holmes," said the baronet, "you look like a general planning a campaign with his chief of staff."

"Exactly. Watson is asking me for orders."

"I'm also here to take orders."

"Very well, as I understand, our friend Stapleton invites you to dine at his house to-night?"

"I hope you will come too. They are very cordial, and I dare say they will be delighted to see you."

"I'm afraid Watson and I must return to London."

"Going back to London?"

"Yes, I think at this point we are better off going back to London than staying here."

It could be seen that the baronet had a displeased expression.

"I hope you will accompany me through this. It is not very pleasant to live alone on this estate and on this moor."

"My dear companion, you must trust me and do exactly as I tell you. You may say to our friend that we would have liked to go with you, but some urgent business compelled us to return to the to town. We hope to be back in Devonshire soon. Will you take this message to them?"

"If you insist on that."

"I tell you with certainty that this is the only way to go."

I could see from the baronet's furrowed brow that he was displeased that we had deserted him.

"When are you going to leave?" He asked coldly.

"Leaving immediately after breakfast. We shall drive first to Combe Tracey. But Watson will leave all his luggage as a guarantee that he will return to you. Watson, you should give Staple Tun wrote a letter saying you couldn't make the appointment and apologizing to him."

"I should like to go to London with you," said the baronet. "Why should I stay here alone?"

"Because it's your duty. You promised me to do what you asked me to do, so I let you stay here."

"Okay then, I'll stay."

"I have one more request from you. I want you to take a carriage to Melipie Mansion, and then send your carriage back to let them know that you are going to walk home."

"Across the moor?"

"correct."

"However, this is something you often tell me not to do!"

"You do it this time, be safe. I would not have suggested it if I had not had complete confidence in your nerves and courage. You must do it."

"Then I'll do it."

"If you value your life, cross the moor in no direction other than the straight road from Melipie House to the Greenping Road, which is the way you must go home."

"I will do what you say."

"Very well. I wish to start as soon as possible after breakfast, so as to be in London in the afternoon."

Although I recalled that Holmes had told Stapleton the previous evening that his visit would be over on the next day, I was astonished by the plan of the trip, and I did not expect that he would ask me to go with him.I don't understand how we could both leave at the moment that he said was the most dangerous.But there is no way but to obey unconditionally.So we took leave of our sulky friend, and in two hours we arrived at Coombe Tracy Station, and sent the carriage home.A little boy was waiting for us on the platform.

"Any orders, sir?"

"Cartley, take this train back to town. As soon as you get back, send Sir Henry Baskerville a telegram in my name, saying that if he finds the notebook I left behind, please Send it to me by registered post to Baker Street."

"Okay, sir."

"Now go to the post office at the station and ask if there is any letter from me."

The boy returned in a few moments with a telegram, which Holmes read and handed to me.It says:

Telegram received.Just bring a blank detention ticket to go.Arrived at five forty.

Lestrade
"This is a reply to my morning telegram. I think he is one of the most capable detectives, and we may still need his assistance. Oh, Watson, I think we'd better use this time to call on your acquaintance." Go, Mrs Laura Lyons."

His plan was set in motion, to use the baronet to convince the Stapletons that we were back in London, when in reality we could be wherever we were needed.If Sir Henry had mentioned the telegram from London to the Stapletons, it would have removed the last doubts in their minds.I seem to have seen that the net we had drawn around the barracuda was slowly being tightened.

Mrs. Laura Lyons was in her office.She was surprised by the directness with which Sherlock Holmes began to ask his questions.

"I am inquiring into the circumstances connected with the sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville," said he, "and this friend of mine, Dr. Watson, has reported to me what you have said and said, It's still a secret."

"What have I been hiding?" she asked defiantly.

"You have admitted that you had Sir Childs wait for you at the door at ten o'clock. We know that was the time and place of his death. You have not made any connection between these events."

"There is no connection between these events!"

"If that's the case, it would be a very high coincidence. But I think we'll find a connection. I'll tell you the truth, Mrs. Lyons, we think it's a murder." .According to the evidence we have, not only your friend Stapleton, but his wife may also be implicated."

The lady suddenly jumped up from her chair and exclaimed, "His wife?!"

"It's no secret. The person he calls his sister is actually his wife."

Mrs. Lyons sat down again, clutching the armrest with both hands, and I saw that her pink nails had turned white from the grip.

"His wife?!" she repeated, "his wife, he hasn't been married yet!"

Sherlock Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

"Please show your evidence! Show your evidence! If you can..." Her terrifying eyes could explain the problem better than what she said.

"I have come here to give you evidence," said Holmes, drawing some sheets of paper from his pocket. "This is a photograph of the couple taken in Yorkshire four years ago. On the reverse is written ' Mr. and Mrs. Vandale', you can easily recognize him? If you have met his wife, you can easily recognize her. Here are three reports from reliable witnesses about Van Deller. Mr. and Mrs. Deller, then headmaster of the private St. Oliver's Primary School. Read it and see if it's them."

She looked at the materials, then looked up at us again, her face was cold, and she looked completely hopeless.

"Mr. Holmes," she said, "is the man who has promised me to marry me if I would divorce my husband. He has deceived me, the rascal. He has contrived to deceive me without telling me the truth." But why... why? I always thought that everything was for me. Now I understand that I am just a tool in his hands. He has no feelings for me, why should I be loyal to him? Why should I protect him? and save him from the punishment of the law? Ask me anything you want! I will hide nothing now. But one thing, I can swear to you, is that when I wrote that letter , it never occurred to me that I would kill that old gentleman, who was my best friend."

"I have every confidence in you, ma'am," said Sherlock Holmes, "that the recollection of these events will certainly be painful to you. Let me first tell you how it happened, and then you will check for any serious error, which may It will make you feel better. Stapleton suggested you write that letter?"

"He dictated it, I wrote it."

"I suppose the reason he proposed for you to write was that you might get financial help from Sir Childs for your expenses in the divorce proceedings?"

"Yes."

"After you sent the letter, did he dissuade you from the appointment?"

"He told me that asking others to pay for the divorce would hurt his self-esteem. He also said that even if he is poor now, even if he spends his last copper coin, he will remove the obstacles that prevent us from getting married."

"He seems to have been a man of his word. You haven't heard anything since then, except the news of the death in the papers?"

"Yes."

"And he made you swear that you would never mention your date with Sir Charles to anyone?"

"Yes, he said that Sir Childs' sudden death was very mysterious. If our date was known by others, I would definitely be suspected. When he said this, I was too scared to speak."

"Exactly, but you don't suspect him of that?"

She hesitated for a moment and then lowered her head.

"I know what he is," she said, "but if he remains true to me, I will always remain true to him."

(End of this chapter)