The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 136 The Hound of the Baskervilles (17)
"On the whole, I think you have been very lucky to have escaped," said Sherlock Holmes. "You have got the evidence of his crime, he knows it well, and yet you have not been killed by him." You have been in danger for many months. Now we bid you farewell, Mrs. Lyons, and perhaps you will hear from us again before long."

"Our preparations for solving the case are complete, and our difficulties are solved one by one," said Holmes, as we stood waiting for the express train from the city. "I shall soon be able to write a complete book. The most horrific crime novel of our time. Students of criminology will remember a similar case in Godno, Russia in [-], and of course the murder of Anderson in Northern Kezerano. But this case has some characteristics that are quite different from other cases. Although we don't have definite evidence yet, enough to subdue this scheming man, but tonight, before we go to sleep, if there is no result, I will It's weird."

The express from London rumbled into the station, and a short, stocky man jumped out of a first-class car.The three of us shook hands, and I could see at once from the way Lestrade looked respectfully at my companion that he had learned a great deal since their cooperation.I remember how the reasoning man satirized the practical man with that theory.

"Anything good?" he asked.

"Absolutely the most important event of the last few years," said Holmes. "There are still two hours before the action. I think we shall use the time to have our supper, and then, Lestrade, take a breather." The cool night air over the Moor, and drive the London fog from your throat, never been there? Oh, well! I don't think you'll forget this first visit."

The Hound of the Baskervilles

One of Holmes' faults--if that is called a fault--is that he does not tell anyone the whole of his plans before acting.Apparently, partly because of his haughty nature, fond of dominating and surprising those around him, and partly because of the prudence of his profession, he never took chances lightly.This often embarrasses his clients and assistants, and I have had more than one unpleasant experience, but none more so than this long drive in the dark.The grave test lay before our eyes, and our whole operation was reaching its final stage, but Holmes revealed nothing, and I could only speculate on the direction of his actions.

Only then did I know we were back in the moor when the cold wind blew on our faces, and the narrow drive was dark on both sides, and there seemed to be nothing outside.The anticipation of what was to come kept me focused, and every step of the horse and every turn of the wheel brought us closer to the climax of the adventure.The coachman was hired, so we could not talk freely, but only in trivial and trivial matters, and in fact our spirits were highly tense with emotional excitement and anxiety.When we passed Frankland's house and got closer and closer to the manor and the scene of the accident, the unnatural tension eased and the mood relaxed.We didn't drive the car to the door of the building, and got out of the car near the gate of the driveway.Having paid the fare, the coachman was sent straight back to Coombe Tracy, and we set off for Melipie House.

"Are you armed, Lestrade?"

The little detective smiled.

"The trousers I wear have a pocket in the back, and since I have this pocket, I always have to put something in it."

"Okay! My friend and I are also prepared for emergencies."

"How well you have concealed the matter, Mr. Holmes. What shall we do now?"

"Just wait and see."

"I mean, it's not a safe place here," said the detective, shuddering, looking around at the shadowy hillside and the fog over the Greenping Mire. Lights up in a house."

"That's Melipie House, and that's the end of our journey. Now please walk on tiptoe and keep your voice as low as possible when you speak."

We continued along the path, apparently on our way to the house, but Holmes stopped us about two hundred yards from it.

"Just here," he said, "these stones on the right are the best barrier."

"Are we just waiting here?"

"By the way, we're about to make a small ambush here. Come into this ditch, Lestrade. You've been in that house, Watson, haven't you? Can you tell? Where are the rooms? What are the lattice windows at this end for?"

"I think it's the kitchen window."

"What about the bright room over there?"

"That must be the dining room."

"The shutters are drawn. You know the terrain best. Walk over quietly to see what they are doing, but don't let them realize that someone is watching them!"

I walked on tiptoe, stooped and hid behind a low wall surrounded by bad fruit trees.By the shadow I came to a place from which I could look directly into the drawn window.

Sir Henry and Stapleton were alone in the room.They sat facing each other on both sides of a round table, their sides facing me.Both were smoking cigars with coffee and wine in front of them.Stapleton was talking animatedly, but the baronet was pale and absent-minded, perhaps very heavy with the thought of crossing the dangerous moor alone.

While I was watching them, Stapleton rose suddenly, and left the room, while Sir Henry filled his glass again, and leaned back in his chair, puffing on his cigar.I heard a door creak and the crisp sound of leather shoes stepping on the gravel road, and the footsteps passed the path on the other side of the wall where I was lurking.Looking over the wall, I saw the biologist stop at the door of a small house on Grove Point, the key turned in the lock, and as soon as he entered, there was a strange scuffling sound inside.He only stayed inside for about 1 minute, and then I heard the sound of turning the key again, and he went back to the house by the same way.I saw him with his guest again, so I quietly went back to where my companions were waiting for me, and told them what I had seen.

"Do you mean, Watson, that the lady is not there?" asked Holmes when I had finished my report.

"Yes."

"Where is she, then? There's no light in any room but the kitchen!"

"I don't know where she is."

The thick white mist of the Great Greenpings Mire that I have spoken of was drifting slowly in our direction, gathering up, as if erecting a wall beside us, very low. But very thick, and the boundaries are also very clear.Illuminated by the moonlight again, it looks like a gleaming ice field, and there are protruding rocks one by one in the distance, just like rocks born on the ice field.Holmes turned his face that way, looked at the slowly drifting fog, and muttered impatiently: "The fog is moving towards us, Watson!"

"Is the situation serious?"

"It's really serious, and it might mess up my plans. Now, he won't be around for long, it's ten o'clock. Our success and his life may depend on whether he survives when the fog covers the path." came out before."

The night sky above us was bright and beautiful, the stars were shining coldly, the half moon hung high in the sky, and the whole moor was immersed in the soft and dim moonlight.Before us were the shadows of houses, with their jagged roofs and rising chimneys, clearly outlined by the starry sky.

From the windows below came several broad, yellow lights in the direction of the orchard and the moor.One of them went out suddenly, showing that the servants had left the kitchen; only the light remained in the dining-room, where two people were still talking, smoking cigars.One is the murderous host and the other is the unsuspecting guest.

The thick fog had covered half of the moor, white as wool, and was slowly drifting towards the houses, and the first thin mist was already rolling in front of the square windows emitting yellow lights.The wall behind the orchard was no longer visible, but the upper half of the tree still stood above a whirlpool of white vapor.While we were watching, the billowing thick fog had climbed to the two corners of the house and slowly piled up into a thick wall. The second floor looked like a strange ship floating on the sea.Holmes clapped his hands eagerly on the rocks before him, and stamped his feet impatiently.

"If he doesn't come out within a quarter of an hour, the path will be covered by thick fog, and in another half an hour, we won't even be able to see our own hands."

"Shall we retreat to a higher place?"

"Okay, I think that's fine."

Therefore, when the fog came upon us, we drew back, till we were within half a mile of the house.But the thick white water, illuminated by the moonlight, continued to move slowly and firmly in our direction.

"We have retreated too far," said Holmes. "He will be overtaken before he comes near us. We must not risk this. We must hold fast at any cost." He knelt down and put the Ears on the ground, "Thank God, I think I've heard his footsteps."

A sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence of the moor.We squatted among the rocks, staring intently at the silver-white fog wall in front of us.The footsteps came closer and closer, and those we waited walked through the fog as if through a curtain.When he came out of the fog and stood in the clear, starlit night, he looked around nervously, then came quickly down the path, past the After we got there, we walked towards the long hillside behind us.As he walked, he looked back uneasily from left to right.

"Hush!" Holmes hissed, and I heard the sharp and crisp sound of the pistol being cocked. "Attention, here it comes!"

There was a continuous and slight rattling sound from the slowly advancing fog wall.The fog was less than fifty yards from where we were hiding, and all three of us stared at it, wondering what terrible things might appear there.I was next to Holmes, and I glanced at his face, which was pale and ecstatic, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.Suddenly, his eyes were fixed on a point in front of him, his lips parted in surprise.At that moment, Lestrade gave a cry of terror and fell to the ground.I jumped up, clutching the pistol in my already shaking hands.I was terrified out of my wits by the hideous shape that sprang towards us through the mist.It was a hound, a big hound as black as coal, but not a dog that people usually see.Its open mouth spewed fire, its eyes glowed like fire, and its mouth, ruff, and lower neck gleamed.Never in the wildest dreams of a madman could he have beheld a more hideous, more terrifying, more devil-like monster than that black body and hideous face that suddenly rushed towards us through the fog barrier.

The huge black thing stalked down the path, chasing after our friend.We were so stunned by the apparition that it ran past us before we regained consciousness.Immediately afterwards Holmes and I both fired, and the fellow let out an ugly growl, which indicated that he had hit at least one shot.But it didn't stop, and continued to jump forward.Far up the path we saw Sir Henry looking back, his face white in the moonlight, his hands up in terror, staring hopelessly at the dog that was chasing him. scary guy.

The hound's howling in pain had utterly dispelled our fears.As long as it is afraid of attack, it is not a monster, we can both wound it and kill it.

I never saw anyone run as fast as Holmes ran that night.I was always running fast, but he left me behind like I overtook the little detective.As we galloped down the lane, we heard the squeals of Sir Henry ahead, and the low growl of the hound.When I arrived, I saw the beast spring up, throw the baronet on the ground, and prepare to bite his throat.In a desperate moment, Holmes fired all five bullets from the revolver into the fellow's flank.The dog uttered a last cry of pain, and with a sharp bite into the air, lay on all fours, kicked wildly for a while, then collapsed on its side and remained motionless.Panting, I stooped down and put the pistol against the pale glowing hideous head, but there was no point in pulling the trigger, the big hound was dead.

Sir Henry lay unconscious where he had fallen.We untied his collar, and there was no wound on the knight's body, which showed that the rescue just now was timely. Holmes prayed gratefully.Jazz's eyelids trembled, and he tried to move feebly.Lestrade thrust his brandy bottle between the baronet's teeth, and looked up at us with frightened eyes.

"My God!" he whispered, "what is that? What the hell is it?"

"Whatever it is, it is dead," said Holmes. "We have done away for ever the genie that haunted your family."

The body sprawled before us was terrifying for its size and strength alone.It wasn't a purebred blood raccoon, nor a purebred mastiff, but rather a hybrid of these two types, ugly and ferocious in appearance, as big as a lioness.Even now, dead and motionless, blue flames seemed to flare from its great mouth, and rings of fire appeared around its small, deep-set, murderous eyes.I touched its glowing mouth, and when I raised my hand, my fingers glowed in the dark.

"It's phosphorus," I said.

"What a cunning scheme," said Holmes, sniffing at the dead dog, "with no scent to affect its sense of smell. We are very sorry, Sir Henry, to have frightened you so much. I would have thought It was an ordinary hunting dog, never expected to be such a one. The fog prevented us from catching him."

"You saved my life after all."

"But you have taken a great risk. Can you get up?"

"Give me another drink of brandy, and I'll be afraid of nothing. Oh, please help me up. What should we do, according to your opinion?"

"You should stay here for the time being. It is no longer suitable for you to take risks tonight. If you are willing to wait a while, one of us will accompany you back to the manor."

He struggled to stand up, but his face was still pale and his limbs were trembling.We helped him to a rock, and he sat down and covered his face with trembling hands.

"We must leave you now," said Holmes. "There is still work to be done, and every minute is precious. The evidence is complete, and now it is only necessary to arrest the man."

"There is only one chance in a thousand of finding him in the house," said Holmes, as we hurried back down the path again. "The shots have told him that the plot is bankrupt."

"At that time, we were still far away from him, and the fog might have muted the gunshots."

"He'll come after the hound, to command it—you may be sure of that. No, no, he's gone now! But we'd better search the house."

The front door was open, and we rushed in, hastily searching room to room, and in the passage came across a panicked, decrepit valet.All the rooms except the dining room were without lights.Holmes hastily lit the lamp, and every corner of the house was searched, but no sign of the man we were after was found, and at last a bedroom door was found locked on the second floor.

"Someone's inside!" cried Lestrade. "There's something moving inside. Open this door!"

There were low moans and rustling sounds from inside.Holmes put his foot on the lock and kicked the door open.The three of us rushed into the house with pistols in hand.

But the desperate, daring villain we were looking for wasn't in the house.In front of us was a very strange and unimaginable thing. We stood there in amazement and watched.

The room looked like a little museum, with on the walls a row of little glass-topped boxes full of butterflies and moths which the cunning and dangerous man collected for his amusement.In the middle of the room was an upright stake, which had been erected at some point to support an old worm-eaten beam across the roof.A person was tied up on the pillar. The person was bound by a sheet so that he could not make a sound, and it was impossible to immediately tell whether it was a man or a woman.A handkerchief was fastened around the neck to the post behind the back, and another covered the lower part of the face, revealing two dark eyes, full of pain and shame, and with terrible suspicion, staring at the us.In a short while we unfastened the man's mouth and body, and Mrs. Stapleton fell down before us.As her beautiful head drooped on her breast, I saw a clear red welt on her neck.

(End of this chapter)