The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 137 The Hound of the Baskervilles (18)
"The beast!" cried Holmes. "Well, Lestrade, where is your brandy? Put her in a chair! She has passed out from abuse and fatigue."

She opened her eyes again.

"Is he safe?" she asked. "Has he escaped?"

"He's not going to escape us, ma'am."

"No, no, I don't mean my husband. Where is Sir Henry? Is he safe?"

"He's safe."

"Where's the hound?"

"already dead."

She gave a long sigh of satisfaction.

"Thank God! Thank God! Oh, the wretch! Look what he's done to me!" She jerked up her sleeves to reveal her arms, and we were horrified to see the bruises on them. "But it's nothing--nothing! He tortured my body and insulted my mind. As long as he still loves me, I have hope, whether it's abuse, loneliness, deceit or whatever, I can bear it, But now I understand that in this regard, I am also his target of deception and tool of evil." As she spoke, she suddenly burst into tears.

"You have given up on him, madam," said Holmes. "Tell us, then, where we may find him. If you have helped him to do evil, help us now to atone for it."

"There's only one place he can escape to," she answered, "and there's an island in the middle of the mire, on an old abandoned tin mine, where he hid his hounds and made preparations there for the To escape. He must have fled there."

A wall of fog hung round the window like snow-white wool.Holmes went to the window with the lamp in his hand.

"Look," said he, "nobody will find their way into the Greenping Mire tonight."

She clapped her hands and laughed.There was a terrible ecstasy in her eyes and on her teeth.

"He may find his way in, but never try to come out again," she cried. "How can he see those stick signs tonight? He and I put them in together. To mark the path through the mire, oh, if only I pulled out the signpost today, and you could do with him as you please!"

Evidently any pursuit would be in vain until the fog cleared.We left Lestrade to look after the house, while Holmes and I accompanied the baronet back to Baskerville Park.The truth about the Stapletons could no longer be concealed from him, and he took the blow bravely when he heard the truth about the woman he loved.But his nerves were so irritated by the shock of the night's adventure, that before daylight he lay unconscious in a fever, and we sent Dr. Mortimer to take care of him.They both had resolved to make a round-the-world journey until Sir Henry recovered physically and mentally, for he was a vigorous, healthy and strong man before he became master of the property.

Now, as soon as this strange story comes to an end, I would like the reader to experience those extreme horrors and vague surmises which clouded our minds for so long and which ended very miserable.On the morning after the hound's death we were guided by Mrs. Stapleton, after the fog cleared, to the point where they had found a path through the bog.Watching the eagerness and joy with which she leads us on the trail of her husband gives us a sense of the horrors of this woman's past life.We stood her on a narrow peninsula of solid peaty ground.Inside the swamp, the ground became narrower and narrower.From the end of the ground there were sticks here and there, and along these sticks was the path, which no stranger could cross, winding from one clump of trees to another. A clump of clumps of trees twists and turns between green foaming puddles and filthy mud puddles.The luxuriant reeds and green slimy water plants on both sides exuded a rotten smell, and the thick turbid air hit us head-on. We stumbled again and again and fell into the knee-high black mud pit. After walking for a few yards, the mud still stuck to our feet. Can't get rid of it.The mud stuck to our heels as we walked.When we sink into the mud, it seems that a vicious hand drags us to the depths of the mud, and it is firmly and tenaciously grasped.

Only once did we see traces of someone who had crossed the dangerous road before us.There was something black in the midst of a heap of cotton-grass on the clay. Holmes took only a step to the side to grab hold of it, but he sank up to his waist in the mire.If we hadn't pulled him out, he would never have stood on solid land again.He held up a black high-top shoe with "Miles Toronto" printed on the inside.

"It's a mud bath worth taking," said he. "This is the shoe that our friend Sir Henry lost."

"Must have been dropped there by Stapleton in his escape."

"Exactly. He still held the shoe in his hand after he let the hounds smell the shoe and ran away. When he ran away knowing that the conspiracy had failed, he still held it tightly in his hand and left it here when he fled. We You know, at least he's safe all the way here."

We can speculate a great deal, but we can never know more, and there are no footprints to be found in the swamp.Because the rising mud quickly covered it.When we came to firm ground after the last muddy track, we looked eagerly for footprints, but saw none.If the land has not deceived us, then Stapleton failed to reach his destination yesterday in his journey through the fog to his hidden island.Somewhere in the heart of the Great Greenping Mire, the foul yellow mud of the swamp had swallowed him up.This ruthless, cruel man is buried here forever.

We found many traces of him on the island surrounded by the mire, where his fierce hounds hid.A large steering wheel and a shaft half-filled with rubbish suggest that this is the ruins of an abandoned mine.There are scattered miners' huts nearby, and no doubt the stench of the surrounding mire has driven away the miners.In one hut, a horseshoe nail, a chain, and some gnawed bones showed that there was where the beast had been hidden.A skeleton, lying among the ruins, with a mass of brown hair stuck to it.

"It's a dog!" said Holmes. "Good heavens, a curly-haired spaniel. Poor Mortimer will never see his pet dog again. Well, I didn't know there was another dog here." What secret we haven't figured out yet. He can hide his hound, but he can't silence it, and that's why he makes those barks, which are creepy to hear even in daylight. In an emergency, he will Locking the hound in a shed outside Melipe's house was a risk, and he would only dare to do it when he thought everything was ready. The sticky stuff in this tin must be A glowing concoction to smear on the brute. Of course, he took this method, inspired by the story of the devil dog passed down through the generations, in order to scare old Sir Childs to death. No wonder the poor desperado To see such a beast scurrying up from behind in the darkness of the moor would run and howl like our friend, but we might do the same if it were us Well. It is indeed a cunning plot, because it not only puts the murderer to death, but also prevents the local farmers from investigating such a beast. Many people have seen this hound in the moor, see Who would dare to investigate the peasants who passed it? I said it in London, Watson, and I say it again, never have we hunted together a more dangerous man than he who is buried here." He turned towards the vast The long arms of the mottled, mottled, green-spotted mire stretched far into the distance until they merged with the russet slopes of the moor.

[-]. Review

It was the end of November, and Holmes and I were sitting by the roaring fire in the drawing-room of the Baker Street flat on a cold, misty night.After our disastrous case in Devonshire, he had two cases of great importance.In the first case, he exposed the scandal of Colonel Appou, because he was connected with the famous "Peaks Club" card fraud; in the second case, he protected the unfortunate Mrs. She was cleared of the murder of Miss Calle, the daughter of her husband's first wife—the young lady everyone remembered, alive and married in New York six months after the murder.My friend was in high spirits from the successful success of a series of difficult and important cases, and I was able to induce him to relate the details of the mysterious Baskerville case.I had been patiently awaiting this favorable opportunity, for, as far as I knew, he would not allow cases to interfere with each other, lest his clear mind be distracted from the work at hand by recollections.Sir Henry and Dr. Mortimer were both in London, preparing for a long journey to restore Sir's irritated nerves.They visited us that afternoon and talked about it quite naturally.

"The whole thing," said Holmes, "is plain and clear from the point of view of the man who calls himself Stapleton. Although the motives of his actions were unknown to us at first, and only partially The facts, so the whole story is extremely complicated. I have had two conversations with Mrs. Stapleton, and I have fully grasped the whole story of the case. In the B column of the case statistics sheet, you can find several excerpts on this matter."

"Perhaps you would like to give an outline of the case from memory."

"Of course, I would like to talk, although I cannot guarantee that all the facts will be remembered, and the intense concentration of thoughts can overwhelm the memory of the past. A lawyer who is handling a case can argue with an expert on the issues of the case, but after a After a fortnight of court proceedings it was all forgotten, so that in my mind later cases were continually drowning out earlier ones, and Miss Calle's case overwhelmed my thoughts on the Baskerville Manor case. Memories of the case. To-morrow there may be another small question, which will likewise take the place of the case of the beautiful French girl and the notorious Abou. But with regard to the case of the Hound, I would like to tell you as objectively as possible, if What I forgot, you can add.

"After investigation, it was confirmed that the portrait of the Baskervilles was not a lie. That guy was from the Baskervilles, and he was the son of Roger Baskervilles, the brother of Sir Charles. Roger is notorious and fled to South America, where legend has it that he died without marrying. In fact he married and bore a child. The little fellow bears the same name as his father, and he married a Costa Rican beauty, Beryl Gallo. Sia got married, and after stealing a huge amount of public funds, he changed his name to Van Dale and fled to England. Here, he opened a primary school in the east of Yorkshire. The reason why he wanted to engage in education , because on his way home he happened to meet a teacher with a tuberculosis, and he wanted to make use of his talents. But the Fraser teacher died, and his school went from bad reputation to notoriety Far away. The Vandalers changed their surnames to Stapleton again, and moved to the south of England with their remaining property, future plans, and love of entomology. I learned from the British Museum that he was still a big name in the entomology circle. The recognized authority, and the fact that he was the first to discover a species of moth while he was living in Yorkshire, made the name Vandale known.

"That part of his life that we're talking about now does interest us a great deal. The fellow obviously did his research and found that there were only two people who would stand in the way of his heir to a large fortune. I believe the man who just went to Devonshire At that time, his plan was not clear, but judging from the fact that he took his wife and appeared as a brother and sister, he has had bad intentions since then. Although he may not have drawn up the steps of the whole plot, but It was evident that he had thought of using her as a decoy. He was so determined to get the property that he would not hesitate to use any means, even the most dangerous, to achieve it. His first move was to make his home in a neighboring ancestral home. The next step was to cultivate friendship with Sir Charles Baskerville and his neighbours.

"The Baron himself told him the legend of the family hound, and thus paved the way for his own death. Stapleton--I shall call him that--knew that the old man's heart was weak, and frightened him a little. death, he knew from Dr. Mortimer--and he had heard that Sir Childs was superstitious, and believed in that dreadful legend. His quick brain conjured up a plan. , can put Sir Childs to death, but can't find out the real murderer.

"After the evil thoughts took root in his heart, he tried his best to design traps. It was enough for an ordinary criminal to use a ferocious hunting dog to commit crimes. But he also used artificial methods to paint the hunting dog as scary as a devil. He was above the average criminal. The dog he bought from Ross and Mangles, the dog dealers in Flem Street, London, was the strongest and most vicious dog they had. He traveled on the North Devon Railway The train brought him home, and he led the dog a long way across the moor to avoid being noticed. He had learned how to cross the Grimping Mire while catching insects, so he could find the hound An unknown hiding place. He kept the dog there, waiting for his opportunity.

"But the opportunity was hard to come by. The old gentleman never went out at night, and several times Stapleton lay in ambush with his hounds, and found nothing. During this time, he was, or rather his accomplice, watched by the neighboring farmers. Here, therefore, there is new evidence for the legend of the devil dog. He had hoped that his wife would lead Childs to his ruin, but on this point she refused with great obstinacy. She would not bring the old gentleman dragged into love, because then he might turn him over to his sworn enemy, and threats, even beatings, which I will not mention, could not shake her resolve to stay out of it, and for a time Staple Tun even fell into a state of helplessness.

(End of this chapter)