Sherlock Holmes Detective Episode Baskerwell's Hound (Part 1)

Chapter I: Mr. Sherlock Holmes

　　Monsieur Sherlock Holmes sat at his table for breakfast, and apart from his frequent sleeplessness, he always got up late in the morning. I stood on the small rug in front of the fireplace and picked up the cane that guest had forgotten last night. It is a delicate and heavy cane with a knot on the top; this wood is produced in Penang and is called betel nut wood. Immediately below the top was a wide circle of silver hoops, about an inch wide. Inscribed on "To James Mortimus, Bachelor of Surgeons of the Royal College of Surgeons, C. Ｃ． Ｈ． Friends give", also engraved with "1884". This is nothing more than a solemn, sturdy and practical cane commonly used by old-fashioned private doctors.

　　"Ah, Watson, what do you think of it?"

　　Holmes was sitting there with his back to me, and I thought I hadn't noticed that I was fiddling with my cane.

　　"How do you know what I'm doing?" I think you must have had eyes on the back of your head. ”

　　"At least I have a polished silver-plated coffee pot in front of my eyes." He said, "But, Watson, tell me, what do you think of our guest's cane?"

　　Unfortunately, we didn't meet him and didn't know anything about the purpose of his coming, so this unexpected souvenir became even more important. After you have examined it carefully, describe this man to me. ”

　　"I suppose," I tried to follow the reasoning method of my partner, "that from the souvenir that people who knew him gave him as a sign of respect, Dr. Mortimer was a well-established, older man of the medical profession, and very respected. ”

　　"Wow!" Holmes said, "Great! ”

　　"I also think he's probably a doctor practicing medicine in the countryside, and he's mostly on foot when he goes out."

　　"Why?"

　　"Because this cane, though beautiful, has been bumped so badly that it is hard to imagine a doctor practicing medicine in the city still holding it." The thick iron bale on the lower end had been worn so badly that it was clear that he had traveled a lot with it. ”

　　"Exactly!" Holmes said.

　　"Also, it's engraved 'C. Ｃ． Ｈ． Friends', I suppose, is probably referring to a hunter [because the first letter of the word Hunter is H, so Watson deduced C. Ｃ． Ｈ． Probably an abbreviation of what hunters would organize the name. He may have given some surgical treatment to the members of the local Hunters' Society, and that's why they gave him this little gift as a reward. ”

　　"Watson, you have grown a great deal," said Holmes, pushing his chair back and lighting a cigarette, "I cannot but say that in all the accounts you have whisently written for my little achievements, you have become accustomed to underestimating your own abilities. Maybe you can't emit light by yourself, but you are the conductor of light. Some people have no genius per se, but they have considerable power to inspire genius. I confess, dear partner, I am so grateful to you. ”

　　He had never spoken so many words before, and there was no denying that his words gave me great joy. Because in the past he had often ignored my admiration for him and his attempts to make his reasoning public, which hurt my self-esteem. And now that I have mastered his method and applied it in practice, I have also received his approval, and I am very proud to think of this. Now he took the cane from my hand, examined it with his eyes for a few minutes, then put down the paper cigarette with a very interested look, brought the cane to the window and looked at it carefully with a magnifying glass.

　　"It's simple, but it's funny," he said, and he sat down again at the end of his favorite bench, "and there are indeed one or two places on the cane that tell the story." It gives us a basis for our inferences. ”

　　"Did I miss something?" I asked, somewhat conceitedly, "I'm sure I didn't ignore the big points." ”

　　"Dear Watson, I'm afraid that most of your conclusions are wrong! Frankly, when I say that you inspire me, I mean that while I point out your fallacies, they often lead me to the truth. But that's not to say you're completely wrong this time. The man must have been a doctor practicing medicine in the countryside, and he was a frequent walker. ”

　　"Well, my guess is correct."

　　"And that's just the point."

　　"But that's the whole truth."

　　"No, no, my dear Watson, not all—not all. For example, I would like to suggest that this gift to this doctor is not so much from the Hunters' Society as from a hospital; Ｃ． ' precedes the word 'hospital' (in English, the word hospital is also prefixed with H). Therefore, it is natural to remind people of the word CharingCross. ”

　　"Maybe you're right."

　　"Probably so. If we take this as a valid hypothesis, then we have a new basis. From this basis, the unknown visitor can be depicted. ”

　　"Okay! Suppose 'C. Ｃ． Ｈ． This refers to Charing Cross Hospital, so what further conclusions can we draw? ”

　　"Isn't there a point where that can be said?" Now that you know my method, then apply it! ”

　　"I can only come up with one obvious conclusion, that the man had practiced medicine in the city before going to the countryside."

　　"I think we can boldly go one step further than this, and from this point of view, in what situation is it most likely that such a gift-giving action will occur?" When will his friends band together to show him their kindness? Apparently, it was when Mortimer left the hospital in order to open his own business.

　　We know of a gift; we believe he was transferred from a city hospital to the countryside to practice medicine. So let's conclude that it is not too much to say that this gift was given at this time of conversion. ”

　　"It certainly seems possible."

　　"Now, you can see that he will not be the chief physician, for only when a man has attained considerable fame in London can he hold such a position, and such a man will not move to the countryside. So, what exactly is he doing? If he was working in a hospital and not counting among the principal physicians, he could have been only a resident surgeon or a resident physician—a slightly higher status than a student in the highest grades of medical school; and he left five years ago—the date was engraved on a cane, so your serious, middle-aged doctor was gone. But here comes a young man, my dear Watson, less than thirty years old, amiable, content with the status quo, so-so, and he has a beloved dog which I can roughly describe as larger than a tanuki and smaller than a mastiff. ”

　　I laughed in disbelief. Sherlock Holmes leaned back on the bench and spat out small fluttering smoke rings to the ceiling.

　　"As for the latter part, I cannot check that you are correct," I said, "but it is at least not very difficult to find out a few characteristics of his age and resume." "I took a medical manual from my little shelf of medical books and turned it over to the name column. There were several people with the surname Mortimer, but only one could be our visitor. I read this passage aloud:

　　James Mortimer, a graduate of the Royal College of Surgeons in 1882, was a native of Green Basin, Dart Moor, Devon. From 1882 to 1884 he worked as an inpatient surgeon at the Charing Cross Hospital. He received the Jackson Comparative Pathology Fellowship for his book "Whether Diseases Are Inherited from Generations". Corresponding member of the Swedish Pathology Association. He is the author of Several Generational Genetic Malformations (Lancet, 1882), a British medical journal that continues to be published today. Are we moving forward? (Published in the March 1883 issue of the Journal of Psychology). He served as a medical officer for the parishs of Greenbon, Sosley, and Takatsuka Village. ”

　　"There's no mention of that local hunter-gatherer, Watson!" Holmes said with a mocking smile, "As you have said, he is no more than a village doctor; I think my reasoning is quite correct. As for those adjectives, if I remember them correctly, I said 'amiable, content with the status quo and so-so'. In my experience, only people who are kind to others in this world will receive souvenirs; only those who are not greedy for fame will give up their careers in London and run to the countryside; only so-so people will wait in your house for an hour and then leave their business cards and instead leave their canes. ”

　　"What about dogs?"

　　"Often it was with this cane that followed its owner. Because the stick was so heavy, the dog had to hold it tightly in the center, so its tooth marks could be seen clearly. Judging from the gaps between these tooth marks, I thought that the dog's chin was wider than the tanuki's chin and narrower than the mastiff's chin. It could be... By the way, it must be a curly-haired long-eared canine. ”

　　He stood up and walked back and forth around the house as he spoke. He stood in front of the window sill that protruded out of the building. His tone was full of confidence, which caused me to look up at him in amazement.

　　"Dear fellow, how can you be so sure of this?"

　　"The reason is simple, I have now seen the dog on the steps of our main entrance, and the sound of its owner ringing the bell has also been heard. Don't move, I beg you, Watson. He's your brother, and your presence might help me.

　　Watson, this is the most dramatic moment of fate, you can hear the footsteps on the stairs, he is entering your life; but you do not know whether it is a curse or a blessing. What would this medical figure, Dr. James Mortimer, ask sherlock Holmes, a crime expert? Come in! ”

　　The appearance of this guest was a real surprise to me, for I had expected a typical country doctor, but he was a tall and thin man, with a long nose like a bird's beak, protruding between a pair of sharp and gray eyes, close together, shining behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. He was wearing the clothes that his people often liked to wear, but they were quite sloppy, because his coat was dirty and his pants were worn. Although he was still young, his long back was already bent, and he leaned forward as he walked, with an aristocratic demeanor of kindness. As soon as he entered, his eyes fell on the cane that Holmes was holding, and he ran towards him with a shout of joy. "I'm so happy!" He said, "I'm not sure I forgot it here? I still forgot about the steamship company. I'd rather lose the whole world than this cane. ”

　　"I guess it's a gift." Holmes said.

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"Was it sent by Charing Cross Hospital?"

　　"It was given to me by two friends there when I got married."

　　"Alas! Oh my God, that sucks! Holmes shook his head.

　　Dr. Mortimer blinked slightly in amazement through his glasses.

　　"Why bad?"

　　"Because you've disrupted a few of our little inferences. You said it was when you got married, didn't you? ”

　　"Yes, sir, I left the hospital as soon as I got married, and I gave up being a consultant [the consultant doctor as the highest of the doctors]. The consultant doctor stops the general medical work and specializes in the diagnosis and treatment of difficult diseases that are difficult for the general doctor to diagnose and treat. —All hope. However, in order to be able to build your own family, it is absolutely necessary to do so. ”

　　"Aha! We still haven't made a mistake. Holmes said, "Well, Dr. James Mortimer..."

　　"You call me sir, I'm a humble student of the Royal College of Surgeons."

　　"And obviously, he's a man of sophisticated thought."

　　"A man who knows a thing or two about science, Mr. Holmes; a man who picks shells on the shores of a vast unknown ocean. I think I was addressing Mr. Sherlock Holmes, not..."

　　"No, this is my friend Dr. Watson."

　　"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I've heard people compare your name to your friend's. You have intrigued me, Mr. Holmes. I couldn't have imagined seeing such a long head or such a deeply sunken eye socket. You don't object to me touching my finger along the slit of your skull, sir? Until you get a physical copy of your skull, a model of your skull would be an excellent specimen for any anthropological museum. I don't want to be annoying, but I admit that I really envy your skull. ”

　　Sherlock Holmes gestured to our strange guest to sit down in a chair. "Sir, I can see that you, like me, are a very enthusiastic person who thinks about the problems of my profession, just as I have of my profession." He said, "I can tell from your index finger that you smoked your own cigarette; don't hesitate, please order one." ”

　　The man took out cigarette paper and tobacco and rolled them into one in his hand with astonishing skill. His long fingers trembled like the tentacles of an insect.

　　Holmes was calm, but his rapidly rolling eyes made me see that he had become interested in our strange guest.

　　"I think, sir," he spoke at last, "that you came last night to see the light, and today you came again, I'm afraid it's not just to study my head, are you?" ”

　　"No, sir, no, though I'm glad I had the opportunity to do so. I have come to you, Mr. Holmes, because I know that I myself am a man of little practical experience, and that I have suddenly encountered one of the most serious and very special problems. Since I know for sure that you are the second most intelligent expert in Europe..."

　　"Drink, sir! Who is honored to stand first? Holmes asked somewhat harshly.

　　"For a man with a precise scientific mind, Mr. Betty Rong's approach to handling cases is always very attractive."

　　"Wouldn't it be better for you to go to him and discuss it?"

　　"Sir, I mean, in terms of people with precise scientific minds. But in terms of practical experience of things, you are unique to all. stuff

　　I believe, sir, that I did not inadvertently..."

　　"But a little," said Holmes, "I suppose, Dr. Mortimer, it would be better to ask you to tell me at once the question of my assistance." ”

　　Chapter II: The Scourge of the Baskervilles

　　"I have a manuscript in my pocket," said Dr. James Mortimer.

　　"I saw it when you came into the house," said Holmes.

　　"It's an old manuscript."

　　"It was from the early eighteenth century, otherwise it would have been a forgery."

　　"How do you know, sir?"

　　"As you spoke, I saw that the manuscript had been exposed for an inch or two. If an expert cannot estimate the time of a document by no more than a decade or so, he is a terrible crappy expert. You may have read my essay on this issue. As far as I can tell, this manuscript was written in 1730. ”

　　"The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer pulled it out of his breast pocket, "This ancestral family letter was entrusted to me by Sir Charles Baskerville, whose sudden tragic death three months ago caused great consternation in Devonshire. It can be said that I am his friend and at the same time his doctor. He was a man of strong will, sir, very sharp, experienced, and as pragmatic as I was. He took the document very seriously, and he was already prepared to accept such an ending; and as a result, he actually got such an ending. ”

　　Holmes took the manuscript and laid it flat on his lap.

　　"Watson, you pay attention to the substitution of long S and short S, this is one of the several characteristics that enable me to determine the age."

　　I leaned behind his shoulder and looked at the yellow paper and faded handwriting. On the top is written "Baskerville Manor", and below it is the scrawled number "1742".

　　"It seems to be a record of some kind."

　　"Yes, it's about a legend that circulated in the Baskervilles."

　　"But I suppose you came to me for something now and more practical?"

　　"It is a matter of immediateness, it is the most realistic and urgent thing, and a decision must be made within twenty-four hours. However, the manuscript is short and has close links to the matter. I'll read it to you if you allow it. ”

　　Holmes leaned back in his chair, the tips of his hands pressed together, and closed his eyes, showing a look of nature. Mortimer took the manuscript to the light and read the following strange and ancient story in a high-pitched and hoarse voice:

　　"There have been many accounts of the Hounds of the Baskervilles, and I have written them down because I believe that something like this has happened. I am a direct descendant of Hugh Baskerville, and I heard this from my father, who in turn listened directly to my grandfather. Sons, may you believe that just gods can punish those who sin, but that if they pray for repentance, no matter how deep their sins may be, they will be forgiven. When you know this, you don't have to be afraid of the evil consequences of your predecessors, as long as you are cautious in the future, lest the deep pain that our family has tasted in the past fall back on our fallen descendants.

　　"It is said to be during the Great Rebellion [referring to the British Civil War of 1642-1660]. (I sincerely recommend to you that you should read the history written by the erudite Baron Clarenton), the Baskerville mansion that was originally occupied by Hugh Baskerville, who is undeniably the most vulgar and rude and godless man. In fact, if it had been only for this, the neighbors could have forgiven him, for the holy religion had never flourished in this region. His natural arrogance and cruelty were already well known in the West. By chance, the Monsieur Hugh fell in love with (if one could still call his vile lust by such a pure word) the daughter of a farmer who had planted several acres of land near the Baskerville estate. But this young girl has always had a good reputation for being careful in her words and deeds, of course, she must avoid him, not to mention that she is still afraid of his notoriety. Later, on the Day of Micomos [Christian commemoration of Saint St. Michael.] Michael's festival (september 29 every year). On that day, the Mr. Xiuguo knew that her father and brother had gone out, so together with five or six idle and vulgar friends, he secretly went to her house to snatch the girl back. They took her into the manor and locked her upstairs in a small room, where Xiu guo sat and drank with her friends, as they often did at night. At this time, the poor girl upstairs heard the wild songs and roars downstairs and those dirty words that were unbearable, and she was already terrified and overwhelmed. It has been said that the words spoken by Hugh Baskerville when he was drunk, no matter who they were, could be punished by heaven even if they were repeated. Finally, in a situation of great fear, she did something that even the bravest and most cunning people would be amazed at.

　　She came out of the window and climbed the vines that still covered the south wall from under the eaves, and then ran across the moor to her home, where the manor was about nine miles from her house.

　　After a while, Xiu guo left the guests, and with food and wine—and perhaps something worse—went to the girl whom he had taken captive, only to find that the caged bird had escaped. Then, as if he had been hit by a demon, he rushed downstairs, and as soon as he reached the dining room, he jumped on the big table, and everything in front of him, whether it was a wine bottle or a wooden plate, was kicked away by him. He shouted in front of his friends that if he could catch up with the that night, he would give his body and soul to the devil at his mercy. While the drunken prodigal sons were stunned by his rage, a particularly vicious fellow—perhaps because he was more drunk than the others—shouted that the hounds should be let out and chased after her. As soon as Xiu Guo heard him say this, he ran out, shouting that the groom would take the saddle and release all the dogs in the kennel, and give the turban that the girl had dropped to the hounds to smell them and blast them out in a swarm, and the dogs ran wildly toward the moonlit swamp in a wild bark.

　　These prodigal sons stood stunned, not knowing what was going on in such a hurry for half a day. It took them a while to figure out what they were going to do in the moor, and then they all shouted again, some shouting for pistols, some looking for their own horses, and some even wanting to bring another bottle of wine. Finally, their frantic minds finally regained a little sanity, and all thirteen of them got on their horses and chased after them. The moon above their heads shone clearly on them, and they raced close together toward each other along the maiden's inevitable path of returning home.

　　"As they ran a mile or two, they came across a shepherd in a moor who shouted and asked him if he had seen the people they were pursuing. It was said that the shepherd was so frightened that he could hardly speak, and later he finally said that he had indeed seen the poor maiden, and that there was a group of hounds chasing her behind her. 'I see more than that,' he said, "hugh baskerville also rode past here on his dark horse, and a big devilish hound followed him silently." God, don't let a dog like that follow me! The drunken masters cursed the shepherd and rode down on horseback. But soon they were frightened and chilled. For they heard the sound of horses running in the moor, and then they saw the black horse, running over with white foam in its mouth, no one on the saddle, and the reins dragged on the ground. Since then the prodigal sons have all huddled together, because they have felt terrible, but they have always advanced in the moor. If they had walked there alone, they would have turned the horse's head and run back. They rode slowly, and finally caught up with the hounds. Although these dogs were all known for their bravery and superior breeding, they were also crowded at the end of a deep ditch in the moor, and they were wailing, some of them had already escaped, and some of them had their neck hair straight up, and their eyes were staring straight into a narrow ditch in front of them.

　　"The men strangled the horses, and it is conceivable that they are much more awake now than they were when they set out. Most of them did not want to go any further, but the three most courageous—perhaps the most drunk—continued their horses down the ravine. A wide flat field appeared in front of it, and in the middle stood two large stone pillars—which can still be seen today—by whom in ancient times it is unknown. The moonlight illuminated the clearing, and the girl who had died of panic and exhaustion lay in the middle of the clearing. But what terrified the three daring drunkards was neither the corpse of the maiden nor the corpse of Hugh Baskerville lying near her, but the terrible thing standing next to Himo tearing at his throat, a large and black beast that looked like a hunting dog, but no one had ever seen such a large hunting dog. Just as they watched the guy tear Hugh Baskerville's throat, it turned its shining eyes and salivating mouth toward them. The three men screamed in fright at the sight, and hurriedly turned the horse's head to escape, even exclaiming as they crossed the moor. One of them is said to have been scared to death that night because he saw the guy, and the other two were left with a lifelong insanity.

　　"O my sons, this is the origin of the legend of the hound, which is said to have been harassing our family horribly ever since. I also want to write it down because I think that what I hear and guess is much more terrible than what I know clearly. It is undeniable that many of the people in our family have not died well, and they have died suddenly, tragically and mysteriously. May I receive god's boundless loving protection from condemning me and other three to four generations of Bible-only listeners. My sons, I command you in the name of God and exhort you to be careful not to walk through the moor when night falls and the forces of evil are raging.

　　[This is Hugh Baskerville [This Hugh Baskerville is a descendant of the same name of Hugh Baskerville referred to at the beginning of this family letter.] He left a letter to his two sons, Roger and John, and urged them not to inform their sister Elizabeth about it. 〕”

　　After reading this strange account, Dr. Mortimer pushed his glasses to his forehead and looked directly at Sherlock Holmes. Holmes yawned and threw his cigarette butt into the fire.

　　"Huh?" He said.

　　"Don't you think it's funny?"

　　"It's fun for a person who collects myths."

　　Dr. Mortimer pulled a folded newspaper out of his pocket.

　　"Mr. Holmes, I now want to tell you something that happened more recently. This is a copy of the Devonshire Chronicle dated May 14 this year. is a short account of the death of Sir Charles Baskerville a few days earlier. ”

　　My friend leaned forward slightly, and his look became more focused.

　　Our visitor put their glasses back on and began to read again:

　　"Recently, the death of Sir Charles Baskerville has brought mourning to the county. According to Yun, in the next election, this person may be elected as the Free Party candidate for The Middle Devon. Although Sir Charles lived in the Baskerville estate for a short time, his kindness and generosity have been deeply loved by the people around him. At a time when this upstart is flooded, it is gratifying that a famous family such as Chalzi can get rich and return to their hometowns, and revive the voice of a family that has been weakened by bad luck. Sir Charles is known to have made a fortune speculating in South Africa. But he was smarter than the people who had been unlucky until then, and he returned to England with his sold assets. He had been at the Baskerville Estate for only two years, and there was much talk of his vast plan to rebuild and repair the curtain, which had been interrupted by his own death. Because he had no heirs, he had publicly stated that the whole township would receive his financial support during his lifetime, so many people mourned his violent death. As for his generous donations to local and county charities, this column has often been published.

　　"The results of the autopsy have not yet been able to ascertain the circumstances relating to sir Charles's death, at least not to dispel the rumors caused by local superstition. There is no reason to suspect that there is any element of crime, or to imagine that death was not due to natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and it is said that he was in some ways of behaving in an abnormal state of mind. Although he has promised property, his personal preferences are simple. The only servants in the Baskerville estate were Brimer and his wife, the husband was the chief steward, and the wife was the housekeeper. Their testimony, which had been confirmed by several friends, showed that Sir Charles had signs of ill health, particularly a few cardiac symptoms, manifested by changes in complexion, difficulty breathing and severe neurasthenia. The deceased's friend and personal physician, James Morti, did not provide the same proof.

　　"The facts of the case are very simple. Charles Baskerville had a habit of walking along the famous water pine path of the Baskerville estate every night before going to bed. The testimony of the Barrymores shows that this was indeed the custom of the deceased. On 4 May, Sir Charles claimed that he wanted to go to London the next day and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. That night he went out for evening walks as usual, and he used to take a cigar for a walk, but he never came back. At twelve o'clock, Barrymore was surprised to find that the door of the hall was still open, so he lit the lantern and went out to look for his master. It was very wet outside, so it was easy to see the jazz's footprints along the middle of the path, and there was a gate to the moor in the middle of the path. All indications were that Sir Charles had stood in front of the door, and then he went down the passage, where his body was found at the end of the passage. One fact that has not yet been explained is that Barrymore said that his master's footprints had changed after passing through the gate leading to the moor, as if he had since switched to walking on tiptoes. There was a gypsy horse dealer named Morpheus who was on the moor not far from the site of the accident, but he himself admitted to being very drunk at the time. He said he had heard shouts, but could not tell which side it was from. Sir Charles could not find any trace of a violent attack, but the doctor's certificate pointed out that the bodies of his friends and patients lay in front of him, almost unbelievably deformed, and that they were lying in front of him— a phenomenon that was often seen when he died of breathing difficulties and heart failure, it was explained. This explanation has been demonstrated by autopsies, indicating the existence of a long-standing functional disorder. The court coroner also submitted a judgement consistent with the doctor's certificate. Since Sir Charles's descendants will still reside in the manor and will continue to be unfortunately interrupted by it, it is clear that this is of paramount importance, and if the ordinary discovery of the coroner does not finally extinguish the absurd stories of the matter that have been passed down from the neighbours, it will be difficult to find a household for the Baskerville manor. It is understood that if Sir had the closest living relative, it was his brother's son, Mr. Henry Baskerville. I had heard before that the young man was in the Americas. An investigation has been conducted in order to inform him to accept the enormous property. ”

　　Mortimer folded the newspaper and put it back in his pocket.

　　"Mr. Holmes, these are well-known facts about the death of Sir Charles Baskerville."

　　"I really thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for bringing to my attention this case of great interest." I had read some newspaper reports at the time, but at that time I was concentrating on the small matter of the Vatican Jewel case, and at the pope's urgent behest, I neglected some of the cases that had occurred in England. Do you say that this piece of news has included all the facts that are public? ”

　　"Yes."

　　"Then tell me some more insider facts!" He leaned back in his chair and pressed the fingertips of both hands together. His extremely calm, judge-like expression was revealed.

　　"Then," said Dr. Mortimer, as his emotions began to stir, "I will tell everything that I have not told anyone, and I will hide it from the coroner." Because a man who works in science is most afraid to appear to the public that he seems to believe in a superstition that has spread. My other motive, as the newspapers say, is that if anything further worsens its already rather terrible reputation, then the Baskerville Estate will really never again dare to live. For both reasons, I think it is still right not to say everything I know, because it would not do you any good, but for you there is no reason why I should not be honest and thorough.

　　"The households on the moor live far apart from each other, and the people who live closer to each other have a close relationship. So I had many opportunities to meet Sir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr. Frankland of Raiford Manor and Mr. Stapleton, the biologist, there were no more educated people within a radius of tens of miles. Sir Charles was a man who liked to live in seclusion and solitude, but his illness brought us both together, and his common interest in science greatly helped bring us closer together. He brought back a lot of scientific material from South Africa, and I used to spend the whole beautiful evening with him studying the Bushhi [a primitive, nomadic hunting race in South Africa]. and the Howtente [a race among black South Africans. Comparative anatomy.

　　"In the last few months I have seen more and more clearly that Sir Charles's nervous system has become extremely tense. He was convinced of the legend I read to you—that though he often walked in his mansion, he refused to go to the moor at night. Mr. Holmes, as you may seem so untrustworthy, was convinced that his home was doomed. Of course, the legend he learned from his elders was indeed unpleasant. The idea that terrible things were about to appear in front of him often occupied his body and mind, and he asked me more than once if I had seen anything strange on my way to the clinic at night, or had heard the howl of a hunting dog. He had asked me many times about the latter question, always in a panicked and trembling tone.

　　"I remember very well that one evening I drove the carriage to his house, about three weeks before this fatal thing happened. It happened that he was in front of the main hall. I had already gotten out of my little carriage and stood in front of him, and I suddenly saw him with an expression of extreme horror in his eyes, staring dead at my back. I turned around suddenly, and just in time to see a black thing like a big calf running fast. He panicked and terrified so much that I had to go to the place where the animal had walked and look around. It's already gone. However, this incident seemed to have caused a very bad effect on his mind. I stayed with him for one night, and it was then that, in order to explain the emotions he had expressed, he entrusted me with the record that I had read to you when I first came. I mention this little episode because it may have had some importance in the tragedy that followed, but at the time I did think it was just a trivial matter, and his panic came for no reason.

　　"Still heeding my advice, Sir Charles intends to go to London. I knew that his heart had been affected, and he was constantly in a state of anxiety, no matter how illusory the cause, had clearly seriously affected his health. I think a few months of urban life will turn him into a new person. Our mutual friend, Mr. Stapleton, is very concerned about his health, and he shares my opinion.

　　But this terrible calamity happened at the last moment before the departure.

　　"On the night of Sir Charles's violent death, when the governor Barrymore found out, he immediately sent Marv Perkins to come to me on horseback, because I slept late, so I came to baskerville manor within an hour after the accident. I verified all the facts mentioned during the autopsy. I looked down the water pine path to his footprints, looked at the place where the gate facing the moor, it seemed that he had been waiting there, and I noticed a change in the shape of the footprints from that point down. I also found that there were no footprints other than those left by Brimer on the soft land. Finally I examined the body carefully again, and no one had touched it before I arrived. Sir Charles was lying on the ground, arms outstretched, his fingers in the dirt; his facial muscles were so tight with such emotion that I could not even make them discernible, and indeed there were no wounds. However, during the autopsy, Barrymore provided a certificate of untruthfulness. He said there were no traces on the ground around the body and he saw nothing. But I did see it—not far away, not only clear but also fresh. ”

　　"Footprints?"

　　"Footprints."

　　"Is it a man's or a woman's?"

　　Mortimer looked at us strangely for a moment, and in reply his voice was almost as low as a whisper: "Mr. Holmes, it is a great hunting dog's paw print!" ”

　　Chapter III: Suspicious Cases

　　Frankly, when I heard these words, my whole body trembled, and the doctor's voice trembled, which showed that even he was deeply excited by what he personally told us. Holmes leaned forward in amazement, his eyes revealing the glowing gaze of concentration that was characteristic of him when he was extremely interested in something.

　　"Did you really see it?"

　　"It's as clear as I see you now."

　　"Didn't you say anything?"

　　"What's the use of saying that?"

　　"Why don't others see it?"

　　The paw prints were about twenty yards from the corpse, and no one noticed. I don't think I would have discovered it if I hadn't known about it. ”

　　"Are there a lot of sheep-watching dogs in the moor?"

　　"Of course there are many, but this one is not looking at sheep and dogs."

　　"Do you say it's big?"

　　"It's huge."

　　"Didn't it get close to the corpse?"

　　"Nothing."

　　"What kind of night was it?"

　　"It's wet and cold."

　　"It didn't rain, did it?"

　　"What does the passage look like?"

　　"There are two rows of old hedges of water pines, twelve feet high, densely planted, through which no one can pass, and an eight-foot-wide path in the middle."

　　"Is there anything else between the hedges and the path?"

　　"Yes, there is a meadow about six feet wide on each side of the path."

　　"I suppose one of the hedges was cut off by a gate?"

　　"Yes, it's the gate that opens against the moor."

　　"Are there any other openings?"

　　"No more."

　　"So, if you want to think of a water pine in the middle of the road, you can only enter from the mansion or through the gate that opens to the moor?"

　　"There's also an exit through the gazebo at the other end."

　　"Did Sir Charles go there?"

　　"No, he's lying down about fifty yards from there."

　　"Now, Dr. Mortimer, please tell me—and this is an important point—that the footprints you see are on the path and not on the grass, right?"

　　"There's no trace of it on the grass."

　　"Is it on the side of the path near the gate that leads to the moor?"

　　"Yes, it's on the side of the road on the other side of the gate."

　　"Your words have intrigued me. Another point, is the gate closed? ”

　　"It's closed, and it's locked."

　　"How high is the door?"

　　"Four feet or so."

　　"So anyone can climb over?"

　　"Did you see any traces on the gate?"

　　"There's nothing special about it."

　　"Weird! Has no one checked it? ”

　　"I checked it, I checked it myself."

　　"Didn't you find anything?"

　　"It's a disgrace to the people; apparently Sir Charles stood there for five to ten minutes."

　　"How do you know?"

　　"Because soot fell from his cigar twice."

　　"Wonderful, Watson, is a peer, thinking the same as us." But what about footprints? ”

　　"There were his footprints everywhere on that little patch of gravel; I couldn't see anyone else's footprints."

　　Sherlock Holmes tapped his knee with impatience.

　　"How nice it would be if I were there!" He shouted, "Obviously this is an extremely interesting case, and it provides a wide range of good opportunities for criminologists to conduct research work." I could have seen many clues on the gravel ground; but now those traces had been wiped out by the rain and the wooden shoes of the peasants who loved to watch the bustle. yes!

　　Dr. Mortimer, Dr. Mortimer, why didn't you tell me to go then! Seriously, you're responsible for this. ”

　　"Mr. Holmes, I cannot invite you without exposing these truths to the world, and I have already explained the reasons for my reluctance to do so. At the same time, at the same time—"

　　"Why don't you hesitate to say it?"

　　"There are problems that even the most shrewd and experienced detectives can't do."

　　"Are you saying that this is a strange thing?"

　　"I'm not sure I said that."

　　"You're not saying that for sure. But, obviously, that's what you think. ”

　　"Mr. Holmes, since this tragedy, I have heard things that are difficult to conform to the laws of nature."

　　"Let's give an example."

　　"I know that before this terrible thing happened, there were people who had seen animals in the moor that were the same shape as the monster of the Baskervilles that was said to be, and by no means beasts known to the scientific community. They said in unison that it was a big fellow, glowing, as vicious as the devil. I had interrogated the men; one of them was a shrewd countryman, one was a horseshoe blacksmith, and the other was a farmer in the moor; they all told the same story about this terrible ghost, exactly in line with the legendary hideous hound. You can believe that the whole district is shrouded in fear, and those who dare to walk through the moor at night can really be considered bold people. ”

　　"Would you, a scientifically literate person, believe that this is a strange thing?"

　　"I don't know what to believe."

　　Holmes shrugged.

　　"So far, the scope of my investigation has been limited to the human world," he said, "and I have only fought a little bit against sin." But to reach the God of All Evil, perhaps it is beyond my reach. But in any case, you have to admit that the footprints are real. ”

　　"This strange hound is really enough to tear a man's throat, but it does look like a demon."

　　"I can see that you are already very inclined to the supernatural. But, Dr. Mortimer, now please tell me why you come to me if you hold this view? You said to me in the same tone that it was useless to investigate sir Charles's death, and you wanted me to investigate. ”

　　"I didn't say I wanted you to investigate."

　　"So, how can I help you?"

　　"I hope you tell me what to do with Sir Henry Baskerville, who is about to arrive at Waterloo Station?" Dr. Mortimer looked at his watch, "He will be there in an hour and a quarter of an hour." ”

　　"Is he the heir?"

　　"By the way, after Sir Charles's death, we investigated the young gentleman and found out that he had been working as a farmer in Canada. From what we know, he is a very good man in every way. I speak not as a doctor, but as trustee and executor of Sir Charles' will. ”

　　"I guess there are no other people who have applied for inheritance, right?"

　　"No more. Among his relatives, the only other person we can trace back to is Roger Baskerville. He was the youngest of the three brothers, Sir Charles was the eldest, and the second brother, who died at a young age, was henry the father of the child. The third brother, Roger, was a bad breed in the family, and he and the domineering old Baskerville were really in the same lineage; according to them, he looked like the portrait of the old Hugh in the family. He became untenable in England and fled to the Middle Americas, where he died of yellow fever in 1876. Henry was the last surviving son of the Baskervilles. In an hour and five minutes, I was going to see him at Waterloo Station. I received a telegram saying that he had arrived in Southampton this morning. Mr. Holmes, what are you going to ask me to do with him now? ”*

　　"Why not let him go to the home where his ancestors lived for generations?"

　　"It seems like it should be, doesn't it?" But considering that everyone in the Baskervilles, if they go there, they will suffer a terrible fate. I think that if Sir Charles had had time to speak to me before he died, he would have warned me not to bring the last of this ancient family and the heir of the great rich to this deadly place. However, it is undeniable that the prosperity and happiness of the entire poor and desolate countryside depend on his coming. If there had been no owner in the manor, all the good deeds that Sir Charles had done would have vanished. Since I am personally obviously very concerned about this matter, I am afraid that my personal opinion has too much influence on this matter, so I have brought this case to you and asked for your opinion. ”

　　Holmes thought about it for a moment.

　　"In short, here's the thing," he said, "your opinion is that there is a demonic force that has made the Dart Moor a place of uneasiness for the Baskerville family— is that your opinion?" ”

　　"At least I can say that there are some indications that this may be the case."

　　"Yes. But to be sure, if your monstrous statement is correct, then this young man will be as unlucky in London as he was in Devon. It is simply unimaginable that a devil, like a parish chapel, would exercise authority only locally. ”

　　"Mr. Holmes, if you had been exposed to these things first-hand, perhaps you would not have made such rash assertions. From my understanding, your opinion is that this young man will be as safe in Devon as he is in London. He's coming in fifty minutes, what do you say? ”

　　"Sir, I suggest that you get into a rental carriage and call away your long-eared hound, which is scratching my front door, and go to Waterloo to pick up Sir Henry Baskerville."

　　"And then what?"

　　"Then, don't tell him anything until I make a decision on the matter."

　　"How long do you have to make a decision?"

　　"Twenty-four hours. I thank you so much if you can come here at ten o'clock tomorrow, Dr. Mortimer, and if you come with Sir Henry Baskerville, it will be of great help to me in making plans for the future. ”

　　"I must do so, Mr. Holmes." He wrote the date in pencil on the cuff, and hurried away with his eerie, staring, absent-minded look. As he reached the landing, Holmes stopped him again.

　　"One more question, Dr. Mortimer, do you say that before sir Charles Baskerville died, how many people saw this ghost in the moor?"

　　"Three people have seen it."

　　"Did anyone see it later?"

　　"I haven't heard of it yet."

　　"Thank you, good morning."

　　Holmes returned to his seat with a quiet, contented look, indicating that he had found a job that suited his taste.

　　"Want to go out, Watson?"

　　"Yeah, but if it helps you, I won't go out."

　　"No, my dear companion, I will turn to you only when it comes to taking action. It's wonderful, from some points of view, this thing is really special. When you pass by the Bradley store, would you please ask them to send a pound of thick board smoke? Thank you. If it is convenient for you, please do not come back before dusk, for I would love to compare the impressions I have acquired in the morning about this very interesting case. ”

　　I know that when the mind is highly concentrated, weighing the bits and pieces of evidence, making different assumptions, comparing them, and finally determining which points are important and which are not true, it is extremely necessary for my friend to be alone behind closed doors and think hard all day. So I spent all my time in the club and never went back to Baker Street before dusk. At nearly nine o'clock I was sitting in the lounge again.

　　When I opened the door, the first thing I felt was as if it were on fire, because the house was full of smoke, and I couldn't even see the lights of the lamp. After walking in, I finally put my mind at ease, because the thick smoke of the thick board made my throat cough. Through the smoke, I vaguely saw Holmes's figure in pajamas curled up in an easy chair with a black clay pipe in his mouth and rolls of paper around him.

　　"Are you cold, Watson?" He said.

　　"No, it's all made of this toxic air."

　　"Ah, you're right, I think the air is thick enough."

　　"It's unbearable."

　　"Then open the window!" I can see that you spend all day in the club, right? ”

　　"My dear Holmes!"

　　"Am I right?"

　　"Of course, but how—"

　　He sneered at my inexplicable look.

　　"Watson, because you have a relaxed and happy look, I would like to play a little trick to make you happy. A gentleman went out on a muddy rainy day; when he returned in the evening, his body was clean, his hat and shoes still shining, and he must have been sitting still all day. He was still a man who had no close friends, so where else would he go? Isn't that obvious? ”

　　"Yes, quite obviously."

　　"There are obvious things in the world that no one can see. Where do you think I'm staying? ”

　　"Isn't it just staying here without moving?"

　　"On the contrary, I have been to Devon."

　　"The 'soul' has gone, right?"

　　"Exactly, my flesh has always been sitting in this easy chair. Unfortunately, I drank two large pots of coffee and smoked an unbelievable amount of tobacco while the 'soul' had flown away. After you left, I sent someone to the Stamford Police Station to get a map of the area with the moor, and my 'soul' turned around on this map for a day. I am confident that I know the roads of that area very well. ”

　　"I guess it's a very detailed map, right?"

　　"Very detailed." He opened the map partially on his lap. "This is the area that has a special relationship with us. The middle place is the Baskerville Estate. ”

　　"Surrounded by woods?"

　　"Yes. I suppose the water pine path, though not indicated here, must have stretched down along this line; and the moor, as you could tell, was on its right side. This small pile of houses is the village of Green basin, where our friend Dr. Mortimer's house is located. Within a radius of five miles, you can see that there are only a few scattered houses. This is the Lyft Estate mentioned in the incident. Here is a house marked, probably the residence of the biologist; if I remember correctly, his surname is Stapleton. Here are two moorish farmhouses, Gautau and Flemmer. Fourteen miles away was the Great Prison of Prince Town. Between and around these scattered points stretches desert bleak moorlands. This is the stage where tragedies have been performed, and perhaps with our help, there will be some good plays on this stage. ”

　　"It must be a wilderness."

　　"Ah, the environment near the left is really very suitable, if the devil really wants to intervene in the affairs of the world..."

　　"So, you yourself are inclined to the myth of the gods."

　　"The agent of the devil may be flesh and blood, isn't it?" We are faced with two questions: first, whether a crime has been committed, and second, what nature of the crime and how it was committed? Of course, if Dr. Mortimer's suspicions are correct, we will have to deal with forces beyond the ordinary laws of nature; then our investigation will be at an end. But we can only return to this path to explore after all the assumptions have been overturned. If you don't object, I think we'll have to close that window. Strangely enough, I always felt that the thick air could concentrate people's minds. Although I have not yet reached the point where I can only think without getting into the box, I believe that if I continue to develop, I will inevitably get that result. Have you thought about this case in your head? ”

　　"Yes, I think a lot during the day."

　　"What do you think?"

　　"It's so confusing."

　　"This case is truly unique. It has several standout points. For example, what is your view of the change in footprints on this? ”

　　"Mortimer said that the man walked on tiptoes in that section of the road."

　　"He was merely repeating what a fool had said during the autopsy. Why would a person walk on tiptoe along the middle of the road? ”

　　"So, how do you explain it?"

　　"He's running, Watson —running desperately, he's running for his life, until his heart breaks and he dies on the ground."

　　"What did he run to escape?"

　　"That's our problem. All indications were that the man had gone mad with fright before he started running. ”

　　"Why do you say that?"

　　"As far as I can imagine, the cause of his fear came from the moorland. If this is the case, it seems most likely that only a frightened person would run in the opposite direction without going to the house. If the gypsy's testimony could be considered true, he was running and crying for help, and he was running in the direction in which he was least likely to be rescued. And then who was he waiting for that night? Why would he wait for someone in his own house? ”

　　"Do you think he's waiting for someone?"

　　"The man was old and frail, and we could understand that he would have scattered for walks in the evening; but the ground was damp and the night was so cold. The wisdom of Dr. Mortimer is indeed worthy of my great admiration; is it only natural that he came to the conclusion he came to from the soot of the cigar that he stood for five or ten minutes? ”

　　"But he goes out every night!"

　　"I don't think he waits every night in front of the door leading to the moor. On the contrary, there is evidence that he is hiding from the moor. He had waited there that night, and the night before he was leaving for London. Things have come to the fore, Watson, and they have become consistent. Please bring me my violin, and we will consider it further tomorrow morning when we meet with Dr. Mortimer and Sir Henry Baskerville. ”

　　Chapter IV Sir Henry Baskerville

　　Our breakfast table was cleaned up early, and Holmes waited in his pajamas for the agreed meeting. Our client was very tight-kept on his date, and just after the clock hit ten o'clock, Dr. Mortimer came, followed by the young baronet. The Baronet was a short, lean man with black eyes, about thirty years of age, strong, thick eyebrows, and a strong and aggressive face. Dressed in a red Scottish garment, he appeared to be a weather-beaten man who spent most of his time outdoors, but his calm eyes and serene and confident attitude showed a gentleman's demeanor.

　　"This is Sir Henry Baskerville." Dr. Mortimer said.

　　"Oh, yes," said Sir Henry, "it is strange that Mr. Sherlock Holmes, even if this friend of mine had not suggested that he come to you this morning, I myself would have come. I know you're good at small things. This morning, I encountered something that I really couldn't think of. ”

　　"Please sit down, Sir Henry. Are you saying that you have encountered some strange things since you arrived in London? ”

　　"Nothing important, Mr. Holmes, is mostly a joke. If you can call it a letter, this is the one I received this morning. ”

　　He put the letter on the table, and we all leaned in to look at it. The texture of the stationery is ordinary, gray. The address was "Northumberland Hotel", the handwriting was very sloppy, the postmark was "Charing Cross Street", and the time of the letter was the evening of the first day.

　　"Who knew you were going to the Northumbran Hotel?" Holmes asked with sharp eyes at our visitor.

　　"No one can know." It was only after I met Dr. Mortimer that we decided. ”

　　"But Doctor Mortimer has undoubtedly been there, right?"

　　"No, I used to stay with a friend," said the doctor, "and we didn't say we were going to this hotel." ”

　　"Well, it seems that anyone is extremely concerned about your actions." He took out from the envelope a half sheet of 13×17-inch letter paper folded in four folds. He opened the letter and laid it flat on the table. In the middle there is a sentence in pencil, which reads:

　　If you value your life or are rational, stay away from the moor.

　　Only the word "moor" is written in ink.

　　"Now," said Sir Henry Baskerville, "Mr. Holmes, perhaps you can tell me what this means, and who, exactly, is so interested in my business?" ”

　　"What do you think about this, Dr. Mortimer?" In any case, you have to admit that there is nothing strange in this letter, right? ”

　　"Of course, sir. But the person who sent the letter was probably someone who believed it was a strange thing. ”

　　"What's going on?" Sir Henry asked hastily, "It seems to me that the two of you know much more about me than I do. ”

　　"You will know what we know before you leave this room, Sir Henry, I promise that." Sherlock Holmes said, "At this time, allow us to speak only about this very interesting letter which must have been sent yesterday evening. Was there yesterday's Times, Watson? ”

　　"It's in that corner."

　　"Trouble can you give it to me?" Open the inside version, Labor Driving, the side of the main commentary. He read it quickly from top to bottom, and this important comment was about free trade, so let me read you a passage from it.

　　"You may also be tempted by rhetoric to believe that a protection tax would have an encouraging effect on your own business or industry, but if you look at it rationally, in the long run, such legislation is bound to distance the country from affluence, reduce the total value of imports, and reduce the general standard of living of the island nation."

　　"Watson, what do you think about this?" Holmes cried out in delight and rubbed his hands with satisfaction, "Don't you think this is a very admirable emotion?" ”

　　Dr. Mortimer looked at Holmes with a look of professional interest, while Sir Henry Baskerville fixed a pair of blank eyes on me.

　　"I don't know much about things like taxation," said Sir Henry, "but it seems to me that we're a bit off topic with this text message." ”

　　"On the contrary, I think we are on the right topic, Sir Henry. Watson knows more about my approach than you do, but I'm afraid even he doesn't necessarily understand the importance of this long sentence. ”

　　"Yes, I admit I don't see any connection between the two."

　　"But, my dear Watson, the connection between the two is so close that every word in the text message is drawn from this long sentence. For example: 'you', 'your', 'life', 'life', 'reason', 'value', 'far away', etc., you still can't see where these words came from? ”

　　"Oh my God! You're right! Alas, you're so clever! Sir Henry shouted.

　　"If there is any doubt about this, the fact that the words 'far away' and 'value' are cut from the same place is enough to dispel the doubt."

　　"Well, now... truly! ”

　　"Indeed, Mr. Holmes, this is totally unexpected," said Dr. Mortimer, who stared at my friend in amazement, "and I can believe anyone who says that these words were cut from a newspaper, but you can point out which newspaper it is, and say that it was cut from an important editorial, which is the most remarkable thing I have ever heard." How do you know? ”

　　"I suppose, Doctor, can you tell the difference between a black and an Eskimo skull?"

　　"Dang—that's it."

　　"But how do you tell the difference?"

　　"Because that's my special hobby, those differences are obvious. The bulging brow bone, the slope of the face, the lines of the jawbone, and..."

　　"This is also my fetish, and the difference is equally obvious, just as the difference between the Negro and the Eskimos is in your eyes. It seems to me that there is also a great difference between the small five-gauge lead used in The Times and the clumsy lead font used in the half-penny evening newspaper. Distinguishing between the lead characters used in newspapers is, for criminologists, part of the most basic knowledge. But, frankly, when I was very young, I once confused the Liz Mercury with the Western Morning Post. But the font used in the Times comment column is so peculiar that it is unlikely to be mistaken for any other newspaper.

　　Since the letter was posted yesterday, it is likely that the text could be found in yesterday's newspaper. ”

　　"I see, then, Mr. Holmes," said Sir Henry Baskerville, "and the man who cut this text was with a pair of scissors..."

　　"It's the scissors that cut the nails," said Holmes, "and you can see that the blade of the scissors is very short, because the person who uses the scissors has to cut twice when he cuts the word 'far away.'" ”

　　"Exactly. So, one person used a pair of short-bladed scissors to cut the words used in this text message and then pasted it with paste..."

　　"With glue." Holmes said.

　　"It's stickered to paper with glue. But I wonder, why is the word 'moor' written? ”

　　"Because he couldn't find the word in the newspapers. The other words are common words that can be found in any newspaper, but the word 'moor' is less commonly used. ”

　　"Ah, of course, that would explain it clearly. Do you see anything else in this text message, Mr. Holmes? ”

　　"There are one or two more signs that can be studied. In order to eliminate all the clues, he had indeed gone to great pains. The address, as you can see, is scrawled. But the Times is a newspaper that few people read except for highly educated people. Therefore, we can assume that the letter was written by a man of considerable education, but he pretended to be an uneducated man.

　　And from the fact that he tried his best to hide his handwriting, it seems that his handwriting may be recognized or checked by you. Also, you can tell that the words are not pasted in a straight line, and some are much higher than others. For example, when we say the word 'life', it is very placeless. This may indicate the carelessness, excitement or panic of the person who cut and pasted. In general, I am more inclined to the latter idea, for the matter is obviously important, and the compiler of such a letter does not seem to be a careless person. If he is panicked, this raises a new question worth noting: Why should he panic? For any letter sent early in the morning would have been delivered to Sir Henry before he left the hotel. Is the person who writes the letter afraid of being bumped into — but who are they afraid of? ”

　　"Now we're guessing." Dr. Mortimer said.

　　"Well, it is rather a comparison of possibilities and the selection of the most closely related to reality; this is the scientific use of the imagination, and the reliable material basis is always the starting point of our thinking. Now, one more thing, you will no doubt call it Huchai again, but I am almost certain that the address on this letter was written in a hotel. ”

　　"On what basis do you say that?"

　　"If you examine it carefully, you can see that both the nib and the ink have caused a lot of trouble for the person who wrote the letter. When writing a word, the tip of the pen hung on the paper twice, splashing ink. In the middle of writing such a short address, the ink dried three times, which means that there is very little ink in the bottle. You think, it's rare for a private pen and ink bottle to be like this, and it's even more rare that both happen at the same time, and you know, it's hard not to have a pen and ink in a hotel. Indeed, I can say without hesitation that if we could go to the hotels near Charing Cross street and check the paper baskets, as soon as we found the rest of the Times whose comments had been cut, we would soon be able to find the person who sent the strange letter. yes! Oh! What is this? ”

　　He took the 13× 17-inch letter paper with the letters on it to a distance of only one or two inches from his eyes and examined it carefully.

　　"Huh?"

　　"Nothing," he said as he threw down the letter, "it's half a blank piece of paper, and there's not even a watermark on it." I think that is all we can get from this strange letter. Ah, Sir Henry, has anything noteworthy happened since you came to London? ”

　　"Well, no, Mr. Holmes. I don't think so. ”

　　"Haven't you seen anyone paying attention to your actions or stalking you?"

　　"It was as if I had walked into a novel with a bizarre plot," said our guest, "and hell, what the hell is going on with me?" ”

　　"We're going to talk about that. Before we get to that point, don't you have anything more to tell us? ”

　　"Oh, it depends on what you think is worth talking about."

　　"I think anything out of the ordinary in everyday life is worth bringing up."

　　Sir Henry smiled.

　　"I don't know much about British life, because I spend almost all of my time in the United States and Canada. But I hope that losing a leather shoe is not part of everyday life here, right? ”

　　"Did you lose a shoe?"

　　"My dear sir," cried Dr. Mortimer, "this is just misplaced. You'll find it when you get back to your hotel. What is the use of bothering Mr. Holmes with such a trivial matter? ”

　　"Well, he asked me what had happened besides my daily life."

　　"That's right," said Holmes, "no matter how ridiculous this thing may seem.

　　Are you saying you lost a shoe? ”

　　"Well, it's not misplaced." I left both shoes outside the door last night, and this morning there was one left. I didn't ask from the mouth of the guy who wiped the shoes. Worst of all, these tall leather shoes I just bought last night from Riverside Road, and I haven't worn them yet. ”

　　"If you haven't worn it yet, why would you put it outside and wipe it?"

　　"Those light brown tall leather shoes haven't been oiled yet, so I'll leave them outside."

　　"So, yesterday you went out and bought a pair of tall leather shoes as soon as you arrived in London?"

　　"I bought a lot of things, and Dr. Mortimer ran around with me. You know, since we're going there to be a squire, I have to wear local-style clothing, and maybe the way I'm contaminated in the American West makes me seem a little debauched. Among other things, I bought these brown tall leather shoes—for six dollars—but before I could put them on my feet, I stole one. ”

　　"What was stolen seemed to be a useless thing that was not paired," said Sherlock Holmes, "and I confess that I had the same idea as Dr. Mortimer, that the lost shoe might soon be found." ”

　　"Well, gentlemen," said the baronet in a determined tone, "it seems to me that I have said everything I know. Now it is time for you to fulfill your promise and tell me in detail what we all have in common. ”

　　"Your request is very reasonable," replied Holmes, "and I think it would be better to ask you to repeat all the facts which you know, as you have told us yesterday. ”

　　After this encouragement, our friend, who is engaged in scientific careers, took out of his pocket his manuscript and recounted the whole case as he had done yesterday morning. Sir Henry Baskerville listened intently and made a sound of surprise from time to time.

　　"Well, it seems that I have inherited a legacy of old grudges," he said after the long narrative, "of course, I have heard about this hound since I was very young, and this is our family's favorite story, but I have never believed it before." Speaking of which, the death of my uncle—ah, it seems to have disturbed me deeply, and I have not yet been able to figure it out. It seems that you are not quite sure whether this is a case that the police should be in charge of, or a matter that the pastor should be in charge of. ”

　　"That's it."

　　"Now there is this letter that I have sent to the hotel. I think it probably has something to do with it. ”

　　"This incident seems to show that someone knows more about what happened on the moor than we do." Dr. Mortimer said.

　　"One more thing," said Holmes, "that man has no ill will toward you, for he has only warned you of danger." ”

　　"Maybe for their personal purposes, they wanted to scare me away."

　　"Ah, of course that's also possible. I am very grateful to you, Dr. Mortimer, for you have introduced me to a question with several interesting possibilities. But, Sir Henry, a very real question that must be decided at the moment is whether you should go to the Baskerville Estates? It's better not to go. ”

　　"Why shouldn't I go?"

　　"There seems to be danger there."

　　"Is the danger you're talking about coming from the demon in my house, or is it from man?"

　　"Ah, that's exactly what we're trying to figure out."

　　Whatever it was, my reply was already in the affirmative. There is no devil in hell, Mr. Holmes, and no one in the world can stop me from returning to my hometown. You can take this as my final reply. As he spoke, his thick eyebrows wrinkled together, and his face turned dark red. Apparently, the temper of the Baskervilles had not completely disappeared in their only surviving descendant. "At the same time," he went on, "I have not yet had time to think about all the facts that you have told me. This is a big deal, and it is only possible to talk about it once, and no one can fully understand and make a decision, and I am willing to make a decision after meditating alone. Hey, Mr. Holmes, it's half past eleven, and I'm going back to my hotel at once. If you and your friend Dr. Watson were able to come and have lunch with us at two o'clock, then I would be able to tell you more clearly how shocking this has shocked me. ”

　　"Watson, is that convenient for you?"

　　"No problem."

　　"Then you'll wait for us." Shall I call you a carriage? ”

　　"I'd like to take a walk, and it really excites me."

　　"I'm happy to accompany you on a walk," said his companion.

　　"Well, we'll see you at two o'clock." Goodbye and good morning! ”

　　We heard the footsteps of two guests coming downstairs and the sound of slamming the front door shut.

　　Holmes suddenly changed from a lazy and half-awake man to a man who did what he said.

　　"Put on your shoes and hats, Watson, quick!" No time can be wasted! He rushed into the house in his pajamas, and a few seconds later he was dressed and came out. Together, we hurried down the stairs to the street. Ahead of us, about two hundred yards in the direction of Oxford Street, we could see Dr. Mortimer and Sir Baskerville.

　　"Do you want me to run and stop them?"

　　"Oh my God! But don't do that, my dear Watson. I am extremely satisfied that you can accompany me, as long as you are willing to be with me. Our friend is really smart, and this morning is really suitable for a walk. ”

　　He picked up the pace and cut the distance between us and the two of us in half. Then we followed them, a hundred yards away, and we followed them up Oxford Street and then onto Regent Street. Once two of our friends stood still and looked into the shop window, and Holmes was looking at the same window. After a while he cried out softly with pleasure, and following his eager gaze, I saw a two-wheeled carriage that had been parked across the street with a man sitting in it now slowly advancing again.

　　"That's the man, Watson, come on!" Even if there is nothing to do, at least we should see him clearly. ”

　　In an instant, I saw a face with a thick black beard and a pair of piercing eyes, turning its head to us in the side window of the carriage. Suddenly, he opened the sliding window on the roof of the carriage and shouted something to the coachman, and the carriage sped wildly down Regent Street. Holmes looked anxiously around, trying to find a carriage, but could not see the empty carriage. He rushed out, chasing frantically in the torrent of carriages and horses, but the carriage ran too fast to be seen.

　　"Alas," said Holmes, panting, pale, and out of the tide of chariots and horses, "have we ever had such bad luck and done such a bad job?" Watson, Watson, if you are an honest person, you should write this down as a counter-evidence that I have never been able to do so. ”

　　"Who is that person?"

　　"I don't know yet."

　　"Is it stalking?"

　　"Well, judging by what we have heard, it is evident that Baskerville has been being closely watched since he came into town. Otherwise, how could it have been known so quickly that he was going to stay at the Northammere Hotel? If they had their eyes on him on the first day, I would venture to say that they would still be staring the next day. As you may have seen, I went to the window twice when Dr. Mortimer was talking about the legend. ”

　　"Yes, I remember."

　　"At that time, I was looking for people in the streets pretending to hang out, but I didn't see a single one, and the person who dealt with us was a shrewd person, Watson. It's a delicate matter, and although I'm not sure whether the other person is kind or malicious, I think he's a capable and resourceful person. Immediately after saying goodbye to our friends, I followed them in order to discover their secret followers. He was so cunning that he didn't even feel reliable to walk, and he prepared a carriage for himself so that he could wander around behind him or rush past them so as not to attract their attention. There was a special advantage to his technique, if they did get on a carriage, he would be able to follow them immediately. However, there is clearly a downside. ”

　　"Then he will be at the mercy of the coachman."

　　"Exactly."

　　"It's a pity we didn't write down the bus number."

　　"My dear Watson, though I seem so clumsy, you must not really have imagined that I had forgotten to write down the number, would you?" Ｎｏ． 2704 is the car number we are looking for. However, it is not useful to us at the moment. ”

　　"I don't see what else you could do in that situation."

　　"When I saw the carriage, I should have turned around and walked back right away.

　　At that time I should not be in a hurry to hire another carriage, keep a considerable distance from the carriage and follow it, or drive to the Northumbrand Hotel and so on. When the man we do not know follows Baskerville home, we can treat him as a human being and watch him go somewhere. But at that time, due to my negligence and impatience, our opponents took extremely cunning actions, and we exposed ourselves and lost our target. ”

　　As we talked, we strolled down Regent Street, where Dr. Mortimer and his companion were long gone.

　　"There's no point in following them anymore," said Holmes, "and when the stalker is gone, he won't come back." We must consider which cards we have left in our hands, and we must use them decisively. Can you recognize the face of the person in the car? ”

　　"I can only recognize his beard."

　　"I can too—but I reckon it might be a fake beard." For a wise man who does such a meticulous job, a beard has no other use than to disguise his appearance. Come in, Watson! ”

　　He walked into a local helper's office and was warmly welcomed by the manager.

　　"Ah, Wilson, I see you haven't forgotten the little case I had the pleasure of helping you with?"

　　"No, sir, I really haven't forgotten. You saved my reputation, and perhaps even my life. ”

　　"My dear partner, you are exaggerating. Wilson, I remember having a kid named Carterley in your hands, who showed some talent during that investigation. ”

　　"Yes, sir, he's still with us."

　　"Can you call him out?" Thank you! I also hope you will give me this five-pound bill for change. ”

　　A fourteen-year-old, radiant and clever-looking child heeded the manager's call. He stood there, looking at the famous detective with great respect.

　　"Give me that guide to the capital hotel," said Holmes, "thank you!" Ah, Catale, here are the names of twenty-three hotels, all near Charing Cross. Did you see that? ”

　　"See, sir."

　　"You're going to go from house to house to these hotels."

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"You give the janitor a shilling every time you get to a house, and here are twenty-three shillings."

　　"You tell them you're going to look at yesterday's waste paper. You say you're looking for an important telegram that was sent wrong. Do you understand? ”

　　"Got it, sir."

　　"But what you really need to find is a sheet of Times that has been cut into small holes by scissors." There's a copy of The Times, and that's the one. You recognize it so easily, do you recognize it? ”

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"Every time, the gatekeeper has to call the living room janitor to ask, and you have to give him a shilling. Twenty-three more shillings for you. In twenty-three homes you may find that most of the waste paper has been burned or shipped away yesterday, and three or four of them may show you a pile of scrap paper, and you will look for this Copy of the Times in that pile of waste paper, but you will probably not find anything. Give you ten more shillings in case you need them urgently. Before late afternoon you send a telegram to my home on Baker Street reporting the results of the search. Now, Watson, the only thing we have left to do is to telegraph the coachman, and the number is No. 2704, and then go to an art museum on Securities Street to spend some time before we went to the hotel. ”

　　Chapter Five: Three Broken Clues

　　Sherlock Holmes had a high degree of willpower to control personal feelings.

　　The strange things that haunt us seem to have been forgotten in these two hours, and he is engrossed in the paintings of the modern Belgian masters. From the time we left the art museum until we walked to the Northumbrand Hotel, he didn't talk about anything but art. In fact, his view of art is very superficial. stuff

　　"Sir Henry Baskerville is waiting for you upstairs." The accounting room said, "He asked me to bring you up as soon as you come." ”

　　"I want to look at your passenger register, don't you object?" Holmes said.

　　"Not at all."

　　As can be seen from the register, there were two more guests after baskerville. One was the Family of Sophires Johansen from NewCastle, and the other was Mrs. Omer and the maid from the town of Heloki, Otun.

　　"This must be the Johansson I know," said Holmes to the gatekeeper, "a lawyer, isn't it?" Her hair was gray and she walked a bit limpy. ”

　　"No, sir, this is The coal mine owner, Mr. Johansson, an active gentleman, no older than you."

　　"You must have made his profession wrong, right?"

　　"No, sir! He has been staying in our hostel for many years and we know him well. ”

　　"Ah, all right. And Mrs. Omo, I seem to remember the name, please forgive my curiosity, but when visiting one friend, I often meet another friend, which is also a common thing. ”

　　"She's a sick wife, sir. Her husband was mayor of Gloucester. She always came to stay with us when she came into town. ”

　　"Thank you, I'm afraid I can't say she's an acquaintance of mine."

　　"The questions we have just asked illustrate an important fact, Watson," he continued to whisper as we went upstairs together, "that we now know that the people who are so interested in our friends are not staying in the same hotel as him. That is to say, although they are very keen to monitor him, as we have seen, they are also very worried about being seen by him. Ah, this is a very telling fact. ”

　　"What does it say?"

　　"It says—oh my God, dear friend, what's going on?"

　　As we approached the top of the stairs, sir Henry Baskerville approached us. He blushed with rage and carried an old tall leather shoe full of dust. He was so angry that he could not speak, and by the time he spoke, his voice would appear to be high-pitched compared to the morning, and his western accent would be much heavier.

　　"The people of their hotel, as if they were looking at me as if they were being bullied," he shouted, "let them be careful, or they will know that they are joking about finding the wrong person."

　　How could that be! If he can't find my lost shoes, he's going to have to get into trouble. I'm the least afraid of jokes, Mr. Holmes, but this time they're a little too much. ”

　　"Are you still looking for your shoes?"

　　"Yes, sir, you must find it."

　　"But you said you lost a new leather shoe with a brown barrel?"

　　"Yes, sir. But now I lost an old black leather shoe. ”

　　"What, you're afraid you're not saying..."

　　"I'm just going to say that I have three pairs of shoes—the new brown, the old black, and the patent leather shoes I'm wearing now. Last night they took away one of my brown shoes, and today they stole one of my black ones – hey, did you find it? Say, hey, don't just stand and stare! ”

　　Here came a panicked German waiter.

　　"No, sir. I asked everywhere in the hotel, but I didn't hear anything. ”

　　"Well, get my shoes back before sunset, or I'll have to go to the boss and tell him I'll leave the hotel right away."

　　"Surely you can find it, sir, as long as you can be a little patient, I promise you will find it."

　　"I hope so, I can't throw anything in this den of thieves anymore—cough, Mr. Holmes, forgive me for bothering you with such a trivial matter..."

　　"I think it's a very noteworthy thing."

　　"Ah, you take it too seriously."

　　"How do you explain this?"

　　"I didn't want to explain it at all. It seems that of all the things that have happened to me, this is the most infuriating and strange thing. ”

　　"Perhaps the strangest thing to do..." said Holmes meaningfully.

　　"What do you think about this?"

　　"Ah, I dare not say I already understand. Your case is complicated, Sir Henry. After linking this incident to your uncle's death, I dare not say whether of the five hundred important cases I have handled can be as tortuous and bizarre as this. But we already have several clues in our hands, and it is expected that one of them will lead us to the truth. We may also waste some time on the wrong path, but sooner or later we will always find the right clues. ”

　　We happily went to lunch, and there was very little talk between meals about the thing that had brought us together. After the meal, Holmes asked Baskerville in the sitting room what his intentions were.

　　"Go to the Baskerville Estate."

　　"When are you going?"

　　"Weekend."

　　"In general," said Holmes, "I think your decision is still clever. I can prove that you are already being watched in London, and in such a large city, among thousands of people, it is difficult to figure out who these people are or what their purpose is. If they harbor malice, they may cause you misfortune, and we are afraid that we will not be able to prevent it from happening. Dr. Mortimer, don't you know that you were being watched after you came out of my house this morning? ”

　　Dr. Mortimer was astonished.

　　"Got watched! By whom? ”

　　"Unfortunately, that's exactly what I can't say. In the Dart Moor, are there any people with long, dark beards among your neighbors and acquaintances? ”

　　"No—well, let me think about it—ah, yes, Sir Charles's steward, Barrymore, has a black beard."

　　"Ah! Where is Barrymore? ”

　　"He's in charge of that estate."

　　"We'd better confirm if he's actually staying there, maybe he's in London."

　　"How can you confirm that?"

　　"Give me a telegram." Is everything ready for Sir Henry? That's it. Sent to the Baskerville Estate for Monsieur Barrymore. Where is the nearest telegraph office to the estate? Is it the Grimm Basin? Wonderful, let's send another telegram to the postmaster of Greenpool, and write ' Send a telegram from Mr. Barrymore to me.' In your absence, please call back to The Northumbrand Inn sir Henry Baskerville. That way, we won't be able to know by night whether Barrymore is really in his job. ”

　　"That's fine," said Baskerville, "but, Dr. Mortimer, what kind of man is this Barrymore?" ”

　　"He is the son of the late old housekeeper, who has been in charge of the manor for four generations now, and as far as I know, he and his wife are a very respected couple in the countryside."

　　"At the same time," said Baskerville, "it is clear that as long as there are no people from our family living on the estate, these people are too comfortable to do anything." ”

　　"It's true."

　　"Did Barrymore really benefit from Sir Charles's will?"

　　Holmes asked.

　　"He and his wife each received five hundred pounds."

　　"Ah! Did they know before that they would get the money in the future? ”

　　"You know, Sir Charles loves to talk about the contents of his will."

　　"It makes a lot of sense."

　　"I hope," said Dr. Mortimer, "that you will not cast a suspicious eye on everyone who has benefited from Sir Charles's will, for he has left me a thousand pounds." ”

　　"Really? Who else got it? ”

　　"There are also a lot of small sums of money that are distributed to some people and large sums of money that are donated to public charity. The surplus went entirely to Sir Henry. ”

　　"How much is the surplus?"

　　"Seven hundred and forty thousand pounds."

　　Holmes raised his eyebrows in amazement and said, "I really didn't expect such a large number." ”

　　"Sir Charles is known for his wealth, but we do not know how rich he really is until we examine his securities. It turned out that the total value of all the property was about one million pounds. ”

　　"Oh my God! A man who sees such a big bet, of course, has to gamble with him. But there is another question, Dr. Mortimer, if something unfortunate happened to our young friends—forgive me for my unpleasant assumption—who would inherit this property? ”

　　"Since Sir Charles's brother Roger Baskerville died without marrying, the property should pass to the distant cousin Desmonds. James Desmond was an elderly pastor in the local area of Westmoreland. ”

　　"Thank you, these details are worth noting. Have you met Mr. James Desmond? ”

　　"I have seen, he has come to visit Sir Charles once. He was a dignified and honorable man who lived a holy life. I remember that he refused to accept any property from Sir Charles, even though Sir Charles forced it to accept it. ”

　　"Is this man, who has no proclivities, want to be the heir to Sir Charles's family wealth?"

　　"He will be the heir to the estate because that's what the law says." He will also inherit the money unless the current owner makes another will – of course he has the right to dispose of it at will. ”

　　"Sir Henry, have you made a will?"

　　"No, Mr. Holmes. I haven't had time yet, because yesterday I didn't know the truth of the matter. However, in any case, I always feel that money should not be separated from titles and property. That's what my poor uncle's legacy was. If the master did not have enough money to sustain the estate, how could he restore the prestige of the Baskervilles? Real estate and money must never be separated. ”

　　"Very correct. Ah, Sir Henry, I share your opinion on the idea that you should go to Devon at once. But there is one condition, you must not go alone. ”

　　"Dr. Mortimer and I went back together."

　　"But Dr. Mortimer has a medical service, and his home is miles away from your home, and though he has great kindness to you, I am afraid that he will not be able to help you." No, Sir Henry, you must find someone else you can trust, someone who can always be with whom you are inseparable. ”

　　"Is it possible that you will go by yourself, Mr. Holmes?"

　　"If things get to the point of crisis, I will try to be personal as much as possible, but you can understand that I have a business of receiving extensive consulting and frequent requests from all sides, and it would be impossible for me to leave London indefinitely. There is now a very respectable figure in England who is being threatened and slandered, and only I can stop this serious slander. You can see how impossible it is to call me to the moor now. ”

　　"So, who are you going to let go?"

　　Holmes clapped the back of my hand and said, "If my friend is willing to do this, then there is no better way to find someone to accompany and protect you than you in a critical situation, and no one can say more confident than I can." ”

　　This unexpected suggestion made me completely unsure of what to do. Before I could answer, Baskerville grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically.

　　"Ah, Dr. Watson, I am so grateful for your kindness," he said, "that you know the situation in which I am, and that you know as much as I do; and that I will always remember it if you could accompany me to the Baskerville Estate." ”

　　The adventures I was about to devote myself to were always attractive to me, and I was touched by the compliments of Holmes and the sincere affection of the baronet who regarded me as a companion.

　　"Definitely, I'd love to go," I said, "and it's well worth it to use my time in this way." ”

　　"You have carefully reported to me," said Holmes, "that when a crisis comes—and a crisis always comes—I will instruct you on how to act." I guess I'm ready to go on Saturday, right? ”

　　"Is this convenient for Dr. Watson?"

　　"Very convenient."

　　"Well, unless I give you other notice, we'll meet at the station on Saturday and take the 10:30 train from Paddington."

　　As we were standing up to say goodbye, Baskerville suddenly gave a triumphant shout and rushed to the corner of the house, dragging out a brown long leather shoe from under the cupboard.

　　"It was my lost shoe." He shouted.

　　"May all our difficulties disappear as this one did!" Sherlock Holmes said.

　　"But this is a strange thing," said Dr. Mortimer, "that I had searched this house carefully before lunch. ”

　　"I've searched too!" Baskerville said, "I've looked everywhere. ”

　　"At that time, there were definitely no long leather shoes in the house."

　　"So, it must have been there when we were having lunch and the waiter was there."

　　The German waiter was called, but he said he didn't know anything about it, and he couldn't figure it out no matter how he asked. Mysterious events of unknown purpose occurred one after the other, and now there is one more. In addition to the whole horrific story of Sir Charles's violent death, within two days a series of unexplained wonders unexpectedly occurred: among them the receipt of letters in pencil, the stalker with the black beard in the two-wheeled carriage, the loss of newly purchased brown leather shoes and the disappearance of old black leather shoes, and the new brown leather shoes that have now been returned. As we rode back to Baker Street, Holmes sat in silence, and I could tell from his furrowed brows and grim face that his mind was as busy as I was, trying to piece together some conjecture that would explain all this strange but apparently unrelated interlude. All afternoon until late at night, he sat still, immersed in tobacco and contemplation.

　　Just before dinner, two telegrams were sent, the first of which was:

　　It was revealed that Barrymore was indeed in the manor. Baskerville.

　　The second letter is:

　　Twenty-three hotels were instructed to be found, but the cut-out Times was not found. Apologies. Catale.

　　"Both of my clues are finished, Watson. There is nothing more annoying than a case where things don't go well. We have to switch directions and find another clue. ”

　　"We can always find a groom to catch the car for the stalker."

　　"Exactly. I have sent a telegram asking the Licensing Section to find out his name and address — and I would not be surprised if this were the answer to my question. ”

　　It turns out that the result of the doorbell is more satisfactory than the answer we wanted. Because as soon as the door opened, a rude guy came in, and apparently he was exactly the man we were looking for.

　　"I received a notice from the General Directorate that there was a gentleman here who was looking for No. Driver of the 2704 car! "I've been driving the carriage for seven years, and I've never heard a word of dissatisfaction from a passenger; I've come straight from the yard here, and I'm going to ask my face what you're not satisfied with me." ”

　　"Brother, I have no complaint with you," said Holmes, "on the contrary, if you can answer my question clearly, I will give you half a gold pound." ”

　　The coachman grinned and said, "Ah, I'm really catching up with a good day today." Sir, what are you asking me? ”

　　"First of all, I'm going to ask for your name and address, and I'll come back to you later when I need to."

　　"John Créton, who lives at 3 Tempi Street in town; my car was rented from Hippoly Depot near Waterloo Station."

　　Sherlock Holmes wrote these down. stuff

　　"Now, Clayton, please tell me about the passenger who came to monitor the house this morning and who later followed the two gentlemen on Regent Street."

　　It looked like the man was taken aback and a little overwhelmed.

　　"Well, it seems that I don't need to tell you about it anymore, because it seems that you know as much as I do," he said, "and the truth is that the gentleman once told me that he was a detective and that he was not allowed to tell anyone about him." ”

　　"Dude, this is a very serious matter, and if you want to hide anything from me, you are going to be unlucky." Did you say your passengers ever told you he was a detective? ”

　　"Yes, that's what he said."

　　"When did he say that?"

　　"When he left me."

　　"Did he say anything else?"

　　"He mentioned his name."

　　Holmes glanced at me quickly with a triumphant look. "Oh, he mentioned his name, didn't he?" That's presumptuous. What did he say his name was? ”

　　"His name," said the coachman, "is Sherlock Holmes, sir." ”

　　I have never seen my friend so taken as much surprise as he had heard the coachman's words. In the blink of an eye, he sat there in shock and didn't say a word. Then he burst out laughing again.

　　"Wonderful, Watson, it's wonderful," he said, "and I think he's such a quick and astute man as I am." Last time he could have fooled me enough — his name was Sherlock Holmes, wasn't he? ”

　　"Yes, sir, that's the gentleman's name."

　　"Great! Tell me where he got your car and what happened after that. ”

　　"At half past nine he called my car in Trevorga Square, said he was a detective, and said that if I could obey his instructions absolutely all day without asking any questions, he would give me two gold pounds. I happily agreed. We first rushed to the Northamborand Hotel, where we waited until the two gentlemen came out and hired the carriage. We followed their carriage until we stopped near here. ”

　　"This is the gate." Holmes said.

　　"Ah, I'm not sure about that. But I dare say my passengers know everything. We stopped on the street and waited for an hour and a half. Then two gentlemen walked past us, and we followed down Baker Street, along the ..."

　　Holmes interjected, "I know that. ”

　　"When we walked about three-quarters of the way through Regent Street. Suddenly, the gentleman in my car opened the roof sliding window and shouted at me to get there as quickly as possible to Waterloo station. I whipped the horse and arrived in less than ten minutes. He actually gave me two gold pounds and went into the station. It was as he was about to walk away that he turned around and said, 'You might be interested if you knew, your passenger was Sherlock Holmes.' That way I knew his name. ”

　　"That's the way it is. Haven't you seen him again? ”

　　"Once he entered the station, he never saw him again."

　　"Now how do you describe Monsieur Sherlock Holmes?"

　　The coachman scratched his scalp and said, "Ah, he's not so easy to describe." I saw him looking forty, of medium build, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. Dressed like a gentleman, with a black beard, the ends of his beard cut straight, and his face pale. I think that's all I can say. ”

　　"What about the color of the eyeballs?"

　　"No, I can't say it."

　　"Can't you remember anything else?"

　　"Well, sir, I can't remember."

　　"Well, then give you this half a gold pound." If you can bring more news later, you can also get another half a pound. Good night! ”

　　"Good night, sir, thank you."

　　John Kretzinger smiled and walked away. Holmes shrugged and turned his head to me with a disappointed smile.

　　"Our third clue is broken again, and I just touched my nod and blew it again."

　　He said, "This cunning rogue! He touched the bottom of ours, and he knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had approached me, and had detected who I was in Regent Street, and that I would have gone to the coachman, considering that I had written down the number of the carriage, and so he sent this tongue-in-cheek message. I tell you, Watson, this time we really have an opponent worth playing. I have suffered setbacks in London. I wish you a little better luck in Devon than here, but I'm not sure. ”

　　"What's not to worry about?"

　　"I'm not sure about the thing that sent you. It's tricky, Watson, it's tricky and dangerous, and the more I look at it, the more I don't like it. Yes, dear partner, you can laugh at me, but I tell you, if you can come back safely and safely to Baker Street, then I am so happy. ”

　　Chapter VI: Baskerville Manor

　　On the appointed day, Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready. We set out for Devon as pre-arranged. Sherlock Holmes took the train with me to the station and gave me some parting instructions and suggestions.

　　"I do not wish to put forward all kinds of claims and doubts to influence you, Watson," he said, "I only hope that you will report to me as much detail as possible about the facts, and as for the work of summarizing, let me do it." ”

　　"What are the facts?" I asked.

　　"It appears that any facts relating to this case, however indirect, in particular the relationship between the young Baskerville and his neighbours, or any new questions relating to Sir Charles's tyrannical pawns. I personally conducted some investigations the other day, but I am afraid that the results of these investigations will not help. Only one thing seems certain, namely that the next heir, Mr. James Desmond, is an older gentleman with a very good character, so that such persecution will not be his doing. I really think that we can completely leave him behind while we are thinking about it, and all that is left is actually the people who surround Henry Baskerville in the moor. ”

　　"Wouldn't it be nice to quit Brimore and the couple first?"

　　"Don't do this, or you'll make the worst mistake." It would be unjust if they were innocent; if they were guilty, they would not be given the sin they deserved. No, no, no, we have to put them on the list of suspects. If I remember correctly, there was also a groom, and two farmers from the moor. And our friend Dr. Mortimer, who I believe is completely honest, but we know nothing about his wife. The biologist Stapleton, and his sister, she is said to be a beautiful young girl. Thanks to Mr. Frankland of Ford Manor, he was an unknown figure. There are one or two other neighbors. These are the characters that you have to study in particular. ”

　　"I'm going to do my best."

　　"I suppose you're carrying a weapon, right?"

　　"Bring it, I also want to bring it well."

　　"Of course, your revolver should be carried with you day and night, and you can't be careless for a moment."

　　Our friends have booked seats in the first class car and are waiting for us on the platform.

　　"No, we haven't heard anything from us," mortimer said in response to my friend's question, "but one thing I can assure you, we weren't being watched the first two days." When we go out, there is not a single time that is not attentive to observation, and no one can escape from our eyes. ”

　　"I guess you're always together, right?"

　　"Except yesterday afternoon. Every time I come into town, I always have to spend the whole day entirely on recreation, so I spend the whole afternoon of yesterday in the exhibition hall of the College of Surgeons. ”

　　"I went to the park to see the bustle," said Baskerville, "but we didn't have any trouble." ”

　　"In any case, it is still too negligent," said Holmes, shaking his head solemnly, "Sir Henry, I beg you not to walk around alone, or you will be in trouble." Have you found another tall leather shoe? ”

　　"No, sir, I can't find it again."

　　"Indeed, it was a very interesting thing. "Well, goodbye," he said as the train moved slowly along the platform, "Sir Henry, remember the strange and ancient legendary saying that Dr. Mortimer read to us—don't walk through the moor when night falls and the forces of evil are raging. ”

　　As we were far from the platform, I looked back and saw Holmes's tall, serious figure still standing there staring at us motionlessly.

　　It was a quick and enjoyable trip, during which time my two companions and I became more intimate than before, sometimes frolicking with Dr. Mortimer's long-eared steak. After a few hours of driving, the brown earth slowly turned red, the brick houses were replaced by stone buildings, the jujube cattle grazed in the well-fenced fields, and the lush meadows and extremely dense vegetable gardens showed that the climate here was humid and easy to harvest. The young Baskerville looked eagerly out the window, and as soon as he recognized the familiar scenery of Devon, he cried out in delight.

　　"Since I left here, I've been to many places in the world, Dr. Watson," he said, "but I've never seen a place that compares to this." ”

　　"I've never met a Devonshire man who doesn't praise his hometown." I said.

　　"Not only the geographical conditions of the county, but also the local people are extraordinary." Dr. Mortimer said, "Look at our friend, whose round head is of the Celtic type, and which is full of strong Celtic feelings. The head of poor Sir Charles belongs to a very rare typical, characterized by being half like the Gaelic and half like the Evians. You were very young when you saw the Baskerville Manor before, weren't you? ”

　　"When my father died, I was a teenager, and he lived in a small house on the south side of the sea, so I never saw the estate. After my father died, I went directly to a friend in the Americas. I tell you that I feel as fresh as Dr. Watson about this estate, and I am very eager to see the moor. ”

　　"Really? That way, your wish will easily come true because you'll be on the moor. Dr. Mortimer said as he pointed out the car window.

　　On the side of the field, which had been cut into countless green squares and the woods at the top of which were connected into low curves, a gray and dark hill rose in the distance, and on the top of the mountain there were strangely shaped and jagged gaps, which looked dark and hazy in the distance, like a dreamy scenery. Baskerville sat still for a long time, his eyes fixed on it. I could see from his eager facial expression how much this place had to do with him, the first time I saw that strange place that had been in the hands of his people for so long and that everywhere could arouse people's deep memories of them. Dressed in Scottish clothing and speaking with an American accent, he sat in the corner of an ordinary train car, but every time I saw his dark and emoticonal face, I felt more and more that he was indeed a descendant of that noble, enthusiastic family, and with the grace of a head of the family. In his thick eyebrows, neurotic nostrils and large maroon eyes, he showed self-esteem, heroism and strength. If anything difficult and dangerous happens in that terrible moor, he is at least a reliable comrade who will bravely shoulder his responsibilities.

　　The train stopped at a small stop on the side of the road, and we all got off. Outside the low white railing, there was a four-wheeled carriage with two short-legged horses waiting there. Our arrival was obviously a big deal, and both the stationmaster and the porter came up to us and carried our luggage. It was a quiet, lovely, and simple place, but at the exit, I was surprised by the presence of two soldier-like men in black uniforms standing there. Their bodies leaned on the short rifle, and their eyes looked straight at us as they walked past. The coachman, a short fellow with a cold and rough appearance, paid homage to Henry Baskerville. After a few minutes, we sped along the wide gray-white avenue. Undulating pastures, rising up on both sides of the avenue, through thick green gaps, can see some of the old houses with their walls and roofs repaired in the shape of a glyph, behind the quiet, sun-drenched village, there is a dark moor that is constantly set off by the evening sky, and several jagged and sinister hills are listed in the middle.

　　The wagon turned again into a fork in the road, and we crossed the alley-like ditch that had been rolled by the wheels for centuries and sunk deep into the ground, twisting upwards, flanked by stone walls covered with wet moss and a leafy sheep's tooth plant. Bronze ferns and mottled blackberries sparkle in the afterglow of the setting sun. We kept walking upwards, past a narrow granite bridge, and headed forward along a rushing rapid. The water rushed and bubbles splashed, roaring through the gray rocks. The road winds its way up a small, winding river in the middle of a canyon of dwarf oak and fir trees. At every turn, Baskerville cheered with joy, and he looked around eagerly, asking us countless questions. In his opinion, everything was beautiful, but I always felt that there was some desolate taste and obvious late autumn scene in the countryside. The path was covered with dead yellow leaves, and as we passed, some of them fluttered and fell overhead. As our carriage passed over the dead leaves, the sound of the wheels fell silent—

　　These things seem to me to be ominous gifts that the Creator has sprinkled in front of the carts of the descendants of the Baskervilles who have returned home.

　　"Ah!" Dr. Mortimer cried out. "What's that?"

　　A steep slope full of heather-like evergreen shrubs appeared ahead, a place jutting out on the edge of the moor. At the highest point, there was a soldier on a horse, clear, like a statue of a knight mounted on a monument, dark and grim, with a saber in a position of preparation for radiation on the left arm extended forward. He is monitoring the path we are taking.

　　"What is that for, Perkins?" Dr. Mortimer asked.

　　The coachman turned around in his seat and said, "Prince Town has escaped a prisoner, sir, and he has been out for three days now, and the guards are monitoring every road and every station, but they have not found any trace of him." The nearby farmers are very upset, sir, this is true. ”

　　"Ah, I know, if anyone can get a message, they can get a bounty of five pounds."

　　"Yes, sir, but the five pounds that you might get is too pitiful compared to the possibility of having your throat cut off." You know, this is not an ordinary criminal. He was an unscrupulous man. ”

　　"So, who is he?"

　　"His name is Serdan, and he was the murderer who killed people on Mount Nauting."

　　I remember very clearly the case, his crimes were extremely cruel, and the whole assassination process was interspersed with the most extreme atrocities, so that this case aroused the interest of Holmes. His death sentence was later commuted because of the surprising brutality of his behavior, and some doubts arose about the soundness of his mental state. Our carriage climbed to the top of the slope, and in front of it appeared a vast moor, dotted with many conical stone mounds and uneven rock hills, with a mottled and strange color. A cold wind blew from the moor and made us all shiver. On the deserted plain, this devilish man, unsure of which ravine lurked like a beast, filled his heart with hatred for those who had abandoned him. The bare wasteland, the cold wind and the dark sky, together with this fugitive, made it even more terrifying. Even Baskerville was silent, and he wrapped his coat tighter.

　　The fertile countryside had fallen behind us, and we looked back, and the setting sun shone obliquely, illuminating the water like a golden thread, illuminating the red land and the vast dense forest that had just been cultivated. The road on the auburn and olive slopes ahead became increasingly deserted, and boulders were strewn everywhere. We sometimes passed a small house on the moor, the walls and roof were made of stone, and there were no vines on the walls to hide its rough outline. We looked down and suddenly saw a bowl-like depression with small patches of badly developed oak trees and fir forests that had been bent by the winds of old age. At the top of the woods, two thin and high spires protruded. The coachman pointed with his whip and said, "This is the Baskerville Estate." ”

　　The owner of the manor stood up, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glaring, and in a few minutes we were at the door of the apartment. The gate is made of dense, winding iron bars intertwined in a marvelous pattern, flanked by a weather-eroded pillar, dirty due to moss, topped with a stone-carved head of a wild boar of the Baskervilles. The concierge had become a pile of collapsed black granite, revealing bare rafters. Opposite it, however, was a new building, halfway complete, the first time Sir Charles had built it with gold earned from South Africa.

　　As soon as I entered the gate, I walked up the trail. At this time, the wheels calmed down as they walked on the dead leaves, and the branches of the old tree intertwined into a dark arch above our heads. Crossing the long, dark driveway and seeing a house at the end glowing like a ghost, Baskerville shuddered.

　　"Is that what happened here?" He asked in a low voice.

　　"No, no, the water pine is on that side."

　　The young heir looked around gloomily.

　　"In a place like this, it's no wonder that my uncle always felt like he was going to be in serious trouble," he said, "enough to frighten anyone." I decided to install a line of swans and Edison bulbs in front of the hall within six months, and then you will no longer recognize this place.

　　The road led to a wide meadow and the house was right in front of us. In the dim light, I could see a solid building in the center, with a corridor protruding from the front. The front of the house was crawling with ivy, and only the windows or places with the coat of arms were cut off, as if they were patched nails on the broken parts of the black mask. The central building is topped by a pair of old towers with shot holes and many lookout holes. On the left and right sides of the tower, there is a wing of a newer style, made of black granite. Dim light shot into the solid window of the window ledge, and a black column of smoke erupted from the high chimney mounted on the steep and sloping roof.

　　"Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to the Baskerville Estate! ”

　　A tall man stepped out of the shadows of the corridor and opened the door of the carriage. In front of the pale yellow light of the hall, another woman appeared, and she came out to help the man take down our duffel bag.

　　"Sir Henry, wouldn't you be surprised if I had to keep going home?" Dr. Mortimer said, "My wife is waiting for me." ”

　　"You'll have to wait until you've had dinner and then go back."

　　"No, I have to go, maybe there's something waiting for me at home." I should have stayed and showed you the house, but he was a better guide compared to Brimore and me. Goodbye, day and night, if I can help, call me right away. ”

　　As soon as Sir Henry and I entered the hall, the wheels on the path could not be heard, and there was a heavy closing sound behind us. The room we were in was truly gorgeous, tall and large, densely lined with rafter beams that had become black due to their age. Behind the tall iron dog statue, inside the huge old-fashioned fireplace, firewood is crackling and bursting. Sir Henry and I reached out to the fire for warmth, for the long drive had left us all numb. Later we looked around again and saw that the narrow windows with ancient stained glass, the fine work of the oak panels, the specimens of the stag's head, and the coat of arms hanging on the walls all looked dark and gloomy in the soft light of the central chandelier.

　　"As I imagined," said Sir Henry, "isn't this exactly what an old family should be?" This is the hall where the people of my family have lived for five hundred years, and the thought of this makes me feel heavy. ”

　　As he looked around, I could see the childlike enthusiasm burning in his dark face. Although there were lights where he stood, the long projections on the walls and the dark ceiling seemed to open a ceiling above his head. Barrymore returned after taking his luggage into our room. He stands before us with the attitude of obedience characteristic of a well-trained servant. He was an extraordinary man, tall, good-looking, with a square black beard and a fair and brilliant face.

　　"Sir, would you like to have dinner right away?"

　　"Are you ready?"

　　"Ready in a few minutes, sir. Hot water has been prepared in your house, Sir Henry, and my wife and I would love to stay with you until you make new arrangements, but you must understand that in this new situation this house will require quite a few servants. ”

　　"What's new?"

　　"Sir, I am just saying that Lord Charles lives a very reclusive life, so we can take care of his needs, and you, of course, want more people to live with you, so you will inevitably need to change the family situation." 」

　　"Are you saying that you and your wife want to resign?"

　　"Sir, of course, this must be done when it is convenient for you."

　　"But your family has lived with my family for generations, haven't you?" If I had severed this long-standing family bond by living here in the first place, I would have regretted it. ”

　　I seemed to see some sign of emotional agitation in the butler's pale face.

　　"I feel the same way, sir, my wife too. Truth be told, Sir, both of us have a great respect for Sir Charles, and his death has shocked us greatly, and the surrounding environment here has made us feel very painful everywhere. I am afraid that in the Baskerville estate we will never again find peace in our hearts. ”

　　"But what do you want to do?"

　　"Sir, I am sure that if we do some business, we will succeed.

　　The generosity of Lord Chaltz has made it possible for us to do so. But now, sir, I'd better show you your room first. ”

　　In the upper part of this ancient hall, there is a square veranda with a back railing, which can only be reached through a double-stacked staircase. Two long corridors stretching out from the central hall run through the building, and all the bedrooms are open to these two corridors.

　　My bedrooms in Baskerville were on the same side and were almost closely adjacent to each other, and they seemed much newer than the style of the rooms in the middle of the building, with brightly colored paste wallpaper and countless candles lit that somewhat erased the gloomy impression that remained in our minds when we first arrived.

　　But the dining room that opens to the hall is a dark and gloomy place, which is a long room with a staircase dividing the room from the middle into two parts with different heights, the higher part is the place for the family to eat, and the lower part is reserved for the servants. At one end, there is a recital gallery. Dark beams crossed our heads, and above that was the blackened ceiling. If the house were illuminated by a row of flaming torches, in the midst of a rich and carnival of ancient feasts, this austere atmosphere might be tempered, but now? The two black-clad gentlemen sat in a small aura illuminated from under the lampshade, their voices lowered, and they felt depressed mentally. A row of looming portraits of ancestors, dressed in a variety of costumes, from the knights of the Elizabethan era to the playboys of the regency of Prince George IV, they all look at us with their eyes open, accompany us silently, and intimidate us. We rarely talked, and I was glad that the meal was finally finished and that we could go to the new marbles room and smoke a cigarette.

　　"To be honest, I don't think it's a place to be very pleasant,"

　　Sir Henry said, "I thought I could get used to this environment, but now I always feel that something is wrong. No wonder my uncle became restless living alone in such a house. Ah, if you will, let's rest early tonight, and perhaps things will seem more pleasant in the early morning. ”

　　I opened the curtains before I went to bed and looked out of the window. The window was open to the grass in front of the hall, and farther away there were two bushes of trees, groaning and swaying in the increasingly strong wind. A semicircular moon emerges from the cracks of the competing clouds. In the dim moonlight, behind the woods, I saw the edges of the mutilated hills and the long, low-lying, slowly undulating gloomy moorlands. I closed the curtains and felt that my impression at that time was still the same as that I had received first.

　　But that's not the last impression. Although I felt tired, I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning, and the more I wanted to sleep, the more I couldn't sleep. The old houses were shrouded in death-like silence, and in the distance came the chimes of the chimes, beating quarters of an hour and a quarter of an hour. But then, suddenly, in the dead silence of the night, a voice came into my eardrums, clear and loud. There is no mistake, it is the sound of a woman's sobbing, like the forced and choked gasp of a man tormented by unbearable grief. I sat up on the bed and listened intently. The sound could not have come from afar, and it was certain that it was in this house. I waited nervously for half an hour with every nerve, but nothing else came from the ringing of the bell and the clatter of the ivy outside the wall.

　　Chapter Seven: Stapleton, the owner of the Mellippi Mansion

　　The fresh beauty of the next morning somewhat erased the horror and gloom that we had when we first saw the Baskerville Manor. By the time Sir Baskerville and I had sat down for breakfast, the sunlight had been scattered through the high ledges, casting a faint and feeble patch of colour through the shield-shaped window glass mounted on the window, and the dark parapet panels glowed like bronze by the golden sunlight; it is hard to believe that this was the room in which the shadows were cast on our minds last night.

　　"I think we can only blame ourselves, not the house!" The baronet said, "At that time, because of the exhaustion of our journey and the coldness of the ride, we had an unpleasant impression of this place. Now, our body and mind have been refreshed, so we feel very happy again. ”

　　"But it's not just a matter of imagination," I replied, "for example, have you heard someone—I think it's a woman,—— crying at night?" ”

　　"It's strange that I did hear crying when I was half awake and half asleep. I waited for a long time, but I couldn't hear it anymore, so I was sure it was all a dream. ”

　　"I could hear it clearly, and I'm sure it was a woman's cry."

　　"We've got to ask about it right away." He rang the bell and called Barrymore and asked him if he could explain the cries we heard. It seems to me that the pale face of the master became even paler after hearing the questions asked by the master.

　　"Lord Henry, there are only two women in this house," he replied, "one is a maid, who sleeps in the opposite compartment; the other is my wife, but I can assure you that she will never make the cry." ”

　　But it turned out that he was lying, because after breakfast I happened to meet Mrs. Barrymore on the promenade, and the sun was shining on her face, a tall, cold-looking, chubby woman with a serious expression on the corner of her mouth.

　　But her eyes were unabashedly red, and she looked at me with her red, swollen eyes. So she was the one who cried at night. If she had cried, her husband would have known why, but he risked being discovered and denied the truth. Why did he do that? Also, why did she cry so sadly? Around this white-faced, beautiful, black-bearded man, a mysterious and miserable atmosphere had formed. It was he who was the first to find Sir Charles's body, and it was only from him that we received a briefing on the circumstances that led the old man to death. Is it possible? Could it be that the man in the carriage we see on Regent Street is Barrymore? The beard is likely to be the same.

　　The coachman described a man of considerable stature, but this impression is probably wrong. How can I figure this out? Apparently, the first thing to do was to go to the postmaster of GreenPool and find out whether the tentative telegram had actually been handed over to Barrymore in person. Whatever the answer, I should at least have something to report to Sherlock Holmes.

　　After breakfast, Sir Henry had a lot of papers to read, so this was just the right time for me to go out. It was a pleasant walk, and I walked four miles along the edge of the moor until I came to a desolate, monotonous village with two large houses taller than the rest, and it was later known that one was an inn, the other was the house of Dr. Mortimer, and the postmaster, who was also the grocer of the village, remembered the telegram very well. *

　　"Yes, sir," he said, "I have asked the person to send the telegram to Monsieur Barrymore exactly as instructed. ”

　　"Who sent it?"

　　"My little one sent it. James, you sent that telegram to Mr. Barrymore, who lives at the manor, last week, didn't you? ”

　　"Yes, Dad, I sent it."

　　"Did he receive it with his own hands?" I asked.

　　"Ah, he was upstairs, so I couldn't hand it over to him myself, but I gave it to Mrs. Barrymore, who promised to send it right away."

　　"Have you seen Mr. Barrymore?"

　　"No, sir, I told you he was upstairs."

　　"If you don't see him, how can you know he's upstairs?"

　　"Oh, of course his own wife should know where he is!" The postmaster said with some irritation, "Did he receive that telegram?" If anything goes wrong, it should be Mr. Barrymore himself questioning. ”

　　There may be no hope of continuing this investigation, but one thing is clear: despite Holmes's clever tactics, we have not been able to prove that Barrymore never went to London. Suppose that this is the case – suppose he is the last to see Sir Charles alive, the first to track down the new heir who has just returned to England, so what? Was he at the behest of someone else, or was there another personal conspiracy? What good would the people who harmed the Baskervilles do him? I am reminded of a warning letter cut and pasted from a Timer review. Was this what he did, or could someone have done it because they were determined to oppose his plot?

　　The only conceivable thing that could be imagined was the kind of motive that Sir Henry had speculated about, that is, if the owner of the manor could be scared away, then the Barrymores would have a permanent and comfortable home. But such an explanation would be very inappropriate for a far-sighted conspiracy that weaves an invisible net around the young baronet. Holmes himself had said that in his long list of astonishing detective cases there was no more complex case. On my way back along the gray and lonely road, I prayed silently in my heart that my friend would come here from his affairs and take this heavy responsibility off my shoulders.

　　Suddenly, a sound of running and calling my name interrupted my train of thought, and I turned around, thinking that it must be Dr. Mortimer, but to my surprise, it was a stranger who was chasing me. He was a short, thin man with a clean beard and a good face, with long yellowish hair, a sharp chin, and the appearance of about thirty or forty years old, dressed in gray, wearing a straw hat, a thin herbarium box hanging from his shoulder, and a green butterfly net in one hand.

　　"I'm sure you'll forgive me for my rudeness, Dr. Watson," he said as he ran to me gasping for breath, "and in this moor people are like family, seeing each other without waiting for a formal introduction." I think you may have heard my name from our friend Dr. Mortimer, and I am Stapleton, who lives in Mellipite. ”

　　"Your casket and net have told me very clearly," I said, "because I have long known that Mr. Stapleton is a biologist." But how did you know me? ”

　　"When I visited Dr. Mortimer, you were walking past his window, and he showed you to me. Because we're on the same path, I want to catch up with you to introduce myself. I'm sure sir Henry's trip was all right? ”

　　"Thank you, he's fine."

　　"After sir Charles's tragic death, we all feared that the new baronet might not want to live here. It is indeed a bit unreasonable to make a rich man condescending to be buried in such a place. However, I don't need to say more, this point is really of great importance to the countryside. I suppose Sir Henry would not have had any superstitious fear of this? ”

　　"I guess not."

　　"You must have heard the legend about the devilish hound that haunted this clan, right?"

　　"I've heard of it."

　　"The farmers here are so gullible to believe the rumors!" Each of them could swear that they had ever seen such a beast in this moor. "He spoke with a smile, but I seemed to see in his eyes that he was serious about it." This had a great psychological impact on Sir Charles. I am sure that it was because of this incident that he ended up in such a tragic end. ”

　　"How could it be?"

　　"His nerves were tense to the point where the sight of a dog would have a fatal effect on his sick heart. I reckon that the night he was dying, in the water pine passage, he really saw something similar. In the past, I used to worry about what would happen to disaster, because I liked the old man very much, and I knew that his heart was weak. ”

　　"How do you know that?"

　　"My friend Mortimer told me."

　　"So, do you think there was a dog chasing Sir Charles, and he was scared to death?"

　　"Is there any better explanation for that?"

　　"I haven't come to any conclusions yet."

　　"What about Monsieur Sherlock Holmes?"

　　This sentence made me hold my breath for a moment, but when I looked again at the gentle and calm face and the calm gaze of my companion, I realized that he did not intend to surprise me.

　　"It's useless for us to pretend we don't know you, Dr. Watson," he said, "we've seen your account of the detective here, and you can't praise your friend without making yourself famous."

　　When Mortimer talked about you to me, he couldn't deny your identity. Now that you are here, it is clear that Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself is interested in this matter, and I am naturally curious to know what he thinks of it. ”

　　"I'm afraid I can't answer that question."

　　"May I venture to ask, would he like to see the light and come here in person?"

　　"He can't leave town yet. He was concentrating on other cases. ”

　　"What a pity! He may be able to give us some clues to this difficult matter. While you're doing your research, if I'm going to do my job, it's a good assignment. If I could know your question or how you were going to investigate, I might be able to help or suggest it right away. ”

　　"Believe me, I am only here to visit my friend Sir Henry, and I do not need any assistance."

　　"Good!" Stapleton said, "You are absolutely right to be so careful. I was reprimanded as a completely deserved one, because my thoughts were just unreasonable nosy. I promise you, never mention it again. ”

　　We walked through a narrow, grassy path that diagonally forked out of the avenue, winding and winding through the moor. To the right was a steep, rocky hill that had been opened into a granite quarry many years ago; on our side was a dark cliff with sheep's tooth plants and thorns growing in the gaps; and on the hillside in the distance, a tinge of gray smoke floated.

　　"Take a slow walk down this moor trail and you'll be at Mellippi," he said, "and maybe you'll be able to spare an hour, and I'd love to introduce you to my sister." ”

　　I thought first of all that I should accompany Sir Henry, but then of the pile of papers and securities piled high on his desk, of course I could not help him in these matters, and that Holmes had specifically said that I should investigate my neighbours on the moor, so I accepted Stapleton's invitation and took a ride on the path.

　　"This moor is such a wonderful place," he said, looking around. The undulating hills resemble a rolling green wave, and the jagged granite peaks resemble strange splashes of water stirred up by the waves. "You will never get bored with this moor, the wonderful secrets of the moor you can't imagine, so vast, so desolate, so mysterious." 」

　　"So you must know a lot about the moor?"

　　"I've only lived here for two years, and the locals call me a newcomer, and sir Charles has not been here for long when we came.

　　My interest prompted me to observe every part of the country, so I think few people know better than I do here. ”

　　"Is it hard to figure it out?"

　　"It's hard. You know, for example, this great plain to the north has a few strange hills in the middle. Can you tell what's special about it? ”

　　"It's a rare place to gallop on horseback."

　　"Of course you think so, but so far, this kind of thinking has buried many lives. Can you see the places covered with tender green grass? ”

　　"Yeah, it looks like that place is more fertile than other places."

　　Stapleton burst out laughing.

　　"That's the Big Green Basin Quagmire," he said, "where if you are not careful, both people and animals will die." Yesterday I also saw a moor pony running in, and it never came out again. After a long time I saw it sticking out of the mud pit, but finally it fell into it. Even in the dry months, it is dangerous to cross there. After these autumn rains, it was even more frightening. But I could find my way to the center of the quagmire and come back alive. Oh, my God! Another unlucky pony got caught up in it. ”

　　Then I saw a brown thing rolling up and down in the green mossy grass, its neck twisting and twisting upwards, followed by a long cry of pain, a terrible roar echoing in the moor. It was as if I was cold from fright, but his nerves seemed to be stronger than mine.

　　"It's over!" He said, "The quagmire has engulfed it. Two horses were buried in two days, and in the future, it is possible to know how many more will be trapped; for in dry weather they are accustomed to running there, but they will not know the difference between drought and rain before they are entangled in the mud. The Grimm basin quagmire is a terrible place. ”

　　"But didn't you say you could wear it?"

　　"Yeah, there's a path here that only people with very quick movements can walk through, and I've found it."

　　"But why do you want to go into such a terrible place?"

　　"Ah, do you see the hill over there?" It was like a small island surrounded by an impenetrable, old quagmire. If you can get there, that's where rare plants and butterflies grow. ”

　　"I'll try my luck any day."

　　He suddenly looked at me with a look of surprise on his face.

　　"Don't give up on that," he said, "that would be tantamount to me killing you." I dare say that you will rarely come back alive, and I got there by remembering certain intricate landmarks. ”

　　"Oh my God!" I shouted, "What's that?" ”

　　A long, low, indescribably miserable groan spread throughout the moor, filling the entire space, but it was impossible to tell where it came from. What began as a vague hum, then into a deep roar, then into a sad and rhythmic hum. Staple looked at me with a curious expression.

　　"The moor is such a strange place!" he said.

　　"What the hell is this?"

　　"Farmers said it was baskerville hounds looking for its prey. I've heard it once or twice before, but it's never been louder. ”

　　Scared to the point of fighting the Cold War, I looked around at the undulating wilderness dotted with green trees. In the vast wilderness, there was no movement except for a pair of large crows croaking on the rocky hill behind us.

　　"You're an educated man, so you don't believe these nonsense, do you?"

　　I said, "Where do you think this strange sound comes from?" ”

　　"The quagmire sometimes makes strange noises. The sludge sinks or groundwater rises upwards, or something else. ”

　　"No, no, that's the sound of an animal."

　　"Ah, maybe. Have you ever heard a heron crow? ”

　　"No, never heard of it."

　　"It's a very rare bird in England — almost extinct —

　　But there may still be in the moor. Yes, even if what we just heard was the cry of a heron, it was no surprise. ”

　　"It's the scariest, strangest sound I've ever heard in my life."

　　"Yeah, it's a mysterious and scary place. Look over there at the hill, what do you mean it is? ”

　　The entire steep hillside was a circle of gray stones, at least twenty piles.

　　"What is it, is it a sheepfold?"

　　"No, it was the dwelling place of our venerable ancestors, and there were many people who lived on the moor in prehistoric times, for no one has lived there since then, so we see the same subtleties of the arrangements as they did before they left the house. Those are their roofless cabins. If you're curious and take a walk inside, you'll still see their stove and bed. ”

　　"It's the size of a town." When did anyone ever live there? ”

　　"About the Neolithic – there is no definite date to date."

　　"What did they do then?"

　　"They herded cattle on these hillsides, and when bronze knives began to replace stone axes, they learned to dig tin mines. You look at the trenches on the opposite hill, which are the remains of the excavations. Yes, Dr. Watson, you'll find some very special places in the moor, oh sorry, wait a minute! It must be the Great Moth of Sekropaid. ”

　　A thing that did not know whether it was a fly or a moth crossed the path and flew over, and in an instant Stapleton pounced on it with rare strength and speed. To my great surprise, the little animal flew all the way to the big quagmire, while my friend waved his green net pocket and kept jumping forward in the middle of a bush of small trees. He was dressed in gray, and with his violent jumping and zigzagging movements, he looked like a large moth. With mixed feelings of envy for his agile movements and fear that he would stumble in the unfathomable depths of the quagmire, I stood there and watched him chase after him. Hearing footsteps, I turned around and saw a woman on the side of the road not far from me, who had come from the direction where a puff of smoke indicated that it was Mellippi, and had been obscured by a depression in the moor, so I had not been found until she was very close.

　　I believe this is Miss Stapleton, whom I have heard of, for there are very few ladies in the moor, and I remember hearing her described as a beauty. The woman who came to me should indeed be classified as the most extraordinary type. The difference in the appearance of brothers and sisters probably couldn't be more significant. Stapleton had a moderate complexion, with pale hair and gray eyes; and her complexion was deeper than any dark-skinned woman I had ever seen in England, slender and graceful. She was born with a proud and beautiful face, with such upright features, that if she were not matched with kind lips and beautiful black and eager eyes, she would have looked cold. She has a perfect figure, and with her noble clothes, she is like a strange ghost on a silent moor path. She was looking at her brother as I turned around, and then she walked quickly toward me. I took off my hat and was about to say a few words of explanation, but her words led me to a new path.

　　"Go back!" She said, "Go back to London at once, go right away." ”

　　I could only stare at her in amazement. Her eyes glowed like flames to me, and one foot slapped impatiently on the ground.

　　"Why should I go back?" I asked.

　　"I can't explain." Her voice was low and earnest, with a strangely large tongue-like voice, "But look at God's face, do as I ask you to do, go back, never come to the moor again." ”

　　"But I just came!"

　　"You man, you man!" She cried out, "Don't you see that this warning is for your own good?" Go back to London! Let's go tonight! Leave this place anyway! Shhh, my brother is here! Not a word about what I have said. Will you give me the orchid on the other side of the cedar leaf algae? There are a lot of orchids on our moor, and you obviously came too late to see the beauty of this place. ”

　　Stapleton had given up the hunt for the little worm and returned to us, panting heavily from exertion and with a flushed face.

　　"Aha, Belleel!" he said. But as far as I can see, his greeting tone is not warm.

　　"Ah, Jack, you're hot, aren't you?"

　　"Well, I just chased a Sycroppard moth, a rare one in late autumn. What a pity, I didn't catch it! He said casually, but his bright little eyes kept looking at me and the woman's face.

　　"I can see that you have introduced yourself."

　　"Yes, I was telling Sir Henry that he had come too late to see the true beauty of the moor."

　　"Ah, who do you think this is?"

　　"I imagine it must be Sir Henry Baskerville."

　　"No, no," I said, "I am nothing more than a humble ordinary man, a friend of Sir's, and I am Dr. Watson. ”

　　Her expressionative face flushed with chagrin. "We actually talked about the sky in a misunderstanding." She said.

　　"Ah, it doesn't matter, you haven't been talking for a long time." Her brother still looked at us with a suspicious look as he spoke.

　　"Instead of treating Dr. Watson as a guest, I talked to him as if he were a local resident," she said, "and to him, it doesn't matter much sooner or later for the orchid." But come on, don't you want to see our house in Mellippi? ”

　　It was a desolate, lonely house on the moor, a shepherd's farmhouse when it was prosperous, but now it has been repaired and transformed into a new house. It was surrounded by orchards, but the trees were like the general trees in the moor, all short and very poorly developed, and the whole place showed a gloomy color. A strange, thin, old, faded-dressed old maid who seemed to match the house let us in. The room was large, and the interior was neat and elegant, which showed the lady's hobbies. I looked out the window, the endless granite moor, undulating in the direction of the distant horizon. I can't help but wonder, what made this highly educated man and this beautiful lady come to live in such a place?

　　"Picked a weird place, didn't you?" He said as if answering the question I was thinking, "But we can live very quickly, can't we, Belle?" ”

　　"Live fast." She said. But her tone seemed reluctant.

　　"I used to run a school." Stapleton said, "It is in the north, and that kind of work is inevitably boring for people of my personality, but it is very valuable for me to be able to live with young people, to help and nurture them, and to influence their hearts with their personal conduct and ideals." Unfortunately, our luck was that there was a serious infectious disease in the school, three boys died, and after this blow, the school never recovered, and most of my funds were irreparably lost. But if it weren't for the loss of the pleasure of living with those lovely children, I wouldn't have missed this unfortunate event. Because of my strong love of zoology and botany, I found an endless supply of materials for my research, and my sister loved the work of nature as much as I did. All of this, Dr. Watson, has burrowed into your head as he observes the moor outside our window, as you can tell from your expression. ”

　　"I did think that life here might be a little boring for your sister, maybe a little better for you."

　　"No, no, I've never been bored." She said quickly.

　　"We have books, we have our research work, and we have interesting neighbors. Dr. Mortimer was the most learned man in his world! Poor Sir Charles was also amiable companion. We know him well and feel unspeakable nostalgia for him. Do you think I should venture to visit Sir Henry this afternoon? ”*

　　"I dare say he will be glad to see you."

　　"Well, it would be better for you to mention it in passing and say that I intend to do so." Perhaps before he gets used to this new environment, we can talk as much as we can to make it more convenient for him. Dr. Watson, would you like to go upstairs and have a look at the lepidoptera I have collected? I think that's the most complete set that can be collected in the South England.

　　By the time you're done, lunch is almost ready. ”

　　But I was anxious to go back to see my client. The gloomy moorlands, the death of the unfortunate ponies and the creepy sounds associated with the terrible legend of the hounds of the Baskervilles all cast a melancholy color over my thoughts. What floated above these somewhat vague impressions was Miss Stapleton's clear and affirmative warning. The manner in which she had spoken was so sincere that I could no longer doubt that there must be a deep and serious reason behind this warning. I thanked all the requests that had caused me to stay for lunch, and at once set out on my way home, following the weedy path back.

　　As if someone familiar with the road must have found a shortcut, before I could get on the main road, I was surprised to see Miss Stapleton sitting on a rock next to the path. Due to the strenuous exercise, her face glowed beautifully red, and her hands were crossed at the waist.

　　"I came running in one breath to intercept you, Dr. Watson," she said, "and I didn't even have time to put on my hat." I can't stay here for long, or my brother will feel lonely because I'm not there. I would like to express my deep apologies to you for the stupid mistake I made, and I regard you as Sir Henry. Forget what I said, which have nothing to do with you. ”

　　"But I cannot forget, Miss Stapleton," I said, "I am a friend of Sir Henry, and I am very concerned about his well-being. Tell me why you are so anxious to think that Sir Henry should return to London? ”

　　"It's just a woman's whim, Dr. Watson." When you know me better, you will know that I can't tell you everything I say about myself. ”

　　"No, no. I still remember the tone of your trembling voice, and I remember the look in your eyes. Oh, please be honest with me, Miss Stapleton, from the moment I got here, I felt suspicious all around. Life has become like the Grimmpool quagmire, full of small patches of green, where people will fall into the ground without a guide to show him a way out. Tell me what you mean, and I promise you to convey your warning to Sir Henry. ”

　　A hesitant expression flashed on her face, but as she answered me, her eyes immediately became firm again.

　　"You think too much, Dr. Watson," she said, "my brother and I were shocked to hear sir Charles's bad news. We know this old man very well, because he likes to walk through the moor to our house. He was deeply affected by the doom that hung over his family. In the aftermath of this tragedy, I naturally felt that the fear he was showing was by no means uncaused. Now I am worried when someone from this family comes here to stay again, so I feel that I should warn him of the danger that may befall him again. That's all I want to convey to him. ”

　　"But what are you talking about?"

　　"You know the story of the hound, don't you?"

　　"I don't believe in this nonsense."

　　"But I believe. If you can still influence Sir Henry, please take him away from what is always fatal to their family. The four seas are big, there is a place to live, why is he willing to live in this dangerous place? ”

　　"It is precisely because it is a dangerous place that he has come here to live, and this is the character of Sir Henry. Unless you can provide me with something more specific than that, it will not be easy to get him out of here. ”

　　"I can't say anything specific because I don't know anything specific."

　　"I want to ask you one more question, Miss Stapleton. If that's all you meant when you first told me, why wouldn't you want your brother to hear you? There's nothing worthy of his or anyone's objection. ”

　　"My brother was hoping that someone would live in this manor, because he thought it would be good for the poor people on the moor. If he knew what I had said that might get Sir Henry out of here, he might be furious. Now that I have done my duty, I will not say anything more. I have to go back, or he won't see me and will suspect that I'm here to meet you. Goodbye! She turned and walked, and within minutes she had disappeared into the rocks, and I rushed back to the Baskerville manor with inexplicable fear.

　　Chapter 8 Dr. Watson's First Report

　　Henceforth, I shall, according to the circumstances of the events, transcribe the letters which I have written to Mr. Sherlock Holmes on the table in front of me. Although one of them has been lost, I believe that what I am writing now is in no way different from the facts. I remember these tragic events very well, but these letters always give a more accurate account of my feelings and doubts at the time.

　　My dear Holmes: My previous letters and telegrams have given you timely understanding of what is happening in this most desolate corner. The longer a person stays here, the deeper the appearance of the moor will penetrate into your soul, it is so vast, with such terrible magic. As soon as you reach the center of the moor, you will not see the slightest trace of modern England: on the other hand, you can see the houses and the fruits of the labor of the prehistoric people everywhere. As you walk, surrounded by the houses of these forgotten people, as well as their graves and large stone pillars, which may indicate where their temples are. When you see the huts made of gray rock on the mottled hillside, you will forget the time you are in now, and if you see a fur-clad man crawling out of the low doorway, with the arrow of the flint arrow on the bowstring, you will feel that his appearance is much more natural than your own presence here. It was strange that in this land, which had always been the most barren, they would live so densely. I am not an archaeologist, but I can imagine that they are a ravaged race that does not like to fight, and is forced to accept a place that no one wants to live in.

　　Obviously, these are all things that have nothing to do with the tasks you sent me here to carry out, and they can be tedious to the most pragmatic people like you. I remember your indifference when it came to the question of whether the sun revolves around the earth or the earth revolves around the sun. Let me return to the matter of Sir Henry Baskerville.

　　If you didn't receive any reports the other day, it's because nothing important has happened that is worth reporting. But then something very surprising happened, and I will report it to you now. First of all, I have to give you an idea of some of the other relevant factors in the whole situation.

　　One of them was the fugitive in the moor that I rarely talked about. It is now entirely credible that he has run away, which is a great relief for the scattered inhabitants of the district. It had been two weeks since he had escaped, during which time no one had seen him or heard anything about him. It is really hard to imagine that he could always stay in the moor during this time. Of course, if he were to look at the problem of hiding alone, he would have no difficulty, and any small stone house could serve as his hiding place. But unless he could hunt the sheep in the moor, he would have nothing to eat. So we think he has escaped, and the peasants who live in the distance can sleep a little more peacefully.

　　We live here with four strong men, so we can take good care of ourselves. But frankly, when I think of stapleton's family, I feel uneasy in my heart. They lived in a place of isolation within a few miles, with only a maid, an old manservant and two of them, and the brother was not a very strong man. If this fugitive from Nauting Mountain had broken through the door and fallen into the hands of such a lifeless fellow, they would have been really helpless. Sir Henry and I were very concerned about their situation, and had suggested that Mavpokins go to sleep with them, but Stapleton disagreed.

　　In fact, our friend, the baronet, has begun to show considerable interest in our female neighbour. This was not surprising, for for such an active person as he was bored in such a lonely place, and she was a very beautiful woman. In her, there was a tropical exoticism, a peculiar contrast to her brother's coldness and unsentimentality, but he also made people feel that there was a fiery emotion lurking in his heart. He must have the power to sway her, for I had seen her constantly looking at him as she talked, as if she needed his consent to say what she said. I'm sure he treated her well. His eyes were sparkling and his lips were thin and firm, and these characteristics often showed an assertive and possibly rough character. I think you must have found him an interesting subject of study.

　　On the first day he came to visit Baskerville, and the next morning he led the two of us to the site of the legend of the debauchery. It took several miles to get there in the moor, and the place was so desolate and miserable that it was likely to make people feel the scene and make up the story. We found a short ravine in the middle of two rocky hills, and after walking along the ravine, we came to an open and grassy clearing with white cotton grass everywhere. In the middle of the clearing stood two large stones, the top of which had been weathered into a pointed shape, much like the worn fangs of some huge beast. This scene does indeed correspond to the tragic scene of the old times in the legend. Sir Henry was intrigued, and more than once asked Stapleton if he really believed that demons might interfere in human affairs. When he spoke, he seemed careless on the surface, but it was obvious that he was very serious in his heart. Stapleton replied very carefully, and it was easy to see that he was trying to say as little as possible, as if he was reluctant to give his opinion in full in consideration of the influence of baron's mood. He said something similar to us, that some families had been harassed by demons, so he made us feel that he thought about it the same way as the average person.

　　On the way home, we had lunch at Mellippi, where Sir Henry and Miss Stapleton met. He seemed to be strongly attracted to her as soon as he saw her, and I dare say that this admiration came from both sides. On our way home, he also mentioned her again and again. From that day on, we saw their siblings almost every day. When they were having dinner here tonight, they talked about us coming to them next week. One must have thought that such a couple would be welcomed by Stapleton, but I have seen more than once that whenever Sir Henry paid even a slight gaze at his sister, Stapleton's face showed a great deal of disgust. He was undoubtedly very fond of her, and without her his life would have been very lonely, but it would be too selfish for him to hinder her from such a beautiful marriage because of this. I'm sure he doesn't want their intimate feelings to develop into love, and I've found many times that he's tried his best to avoid giving them the opportunity to be alone and secretly talking. Well, you have instructed me never to allow Sir Henry to go out alone, but it is much more difficult to add to our other difficulties the question of love. If I were to carry out your orders resolutely and thoroughly, I would probably become undesirable.

　　That day—or more precisely, Thursday—Mortimer dined with us, and he was overjoyed to find an ancient tomb in the Changgang area and found a skull of a prehistoric man. I have never seen such a single-minded enthusiast as he is! Later, the Stepton brothers and sisters also came, and at sir Henry's request, the kind doctor led us to the water pine and explained to us the whole story of what had happened on the night of Sir Charles's death. The walk was long and dull, sandwiched between two rows of tall, cut hedges, a narrow meadow on each side of the path, and an old, dilapidated gazebo at the end. The small door that opened to the moor was in the middle, where the old gentleman had left cigar soot, a white wooden door with latches, and the vast moor outside. I remember your thoughts on this, and I tried to imagine in my mind the reality of all that had happened. Presumably when the old man was standing there, he saw something running toward him through the moor, and the thing frightened him and ran in panic until he died of fear and exhaustion.

　　He was running along that long, eerie alley. But why did he run? Just because of a sheep dog on the moor? Or did you see a big black hound that didn't make a sound? Is someone tricking it on? Was it the white and alert Barrymore who was hiding what he knew? It all seemed confusing, but I always felt that there was a shadow of evil behind the scenes.

　　Since the last time I wrote to you, I have met another neighbor, Mr. Frankland of Ryford Manor, who lives about four miles south of us. He was an elder, with a ruddy complexion, silvery hair, and a short temperament. He had a penchant for English law and spent a great deal of property on litigation. So he argues with people, but only to get the pleasure of litigation, as for which side of the problem, it is all the same, no wonder he feels that this is really a costly play. Sometimes he cut off a road and openly rebelled against the diocese's order to open it; sometimes he demolished the gates of others with his own hands, claiming that this place had been a passage a long time ago, refuting the infringement lawsuit brought against him by the original owner. He was well versed in the old caiyi and public rights laws, and he sometimes used his knowledge to defend the interests of the inhabitants of the village of Fernworthy, but sometimes against them. Therefore, according to what he had done, he was sometimes triumphantly lifted up through the streets of the village, and sometimes burned by people as straw men. It is said that he still has seven outstanding lawsuits in his hands, and perhaps these lawsuits will swallow up his remaining property. At that point, he will no longer be able to harm anyone like a wasp that has been plucked out of its stinger. If the legal issues are left aside, he seems to be an amiable person. I'm just mentioning him, because you've specifically told me that you should send you some descriptions of the situation of the people around you. He was now inexplicably busy, he was an amateur astronomer with a great telescope, and he would lie on his roof all day long, using it to look up at the moor, hoping to find the fugitive. If he had spent all his energies on this matter, then everything would have been peaceful, but according to rumors, he was now trying to charge Dr. Mortimer for digging a grave without the consent of the deceased's close relatives. Because Mortimer excavated the skull of a Neolithic man from the ancient tomb in Changgang. This Mr. Frankland really helps to break the monotony of our lives and gives us some entertaining little fun in times of urgent need.

　　Now, you have been introduced in time to the fugitive, Stapleton, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland of Lyft Manor. Let me conclude with some of the most important things about Barrymore, especially the amazing development of last night.

　　The first is a tentative telegram from yours from London to confirm whether Barrymore was really here. As I have explained to you, the words of the postmaster indicate that the trial was fruitless, and we have proved nothing. I told Sir Henry the truth, but he immediately summoned Barrymore directly and asked him if he had personally received the telegram. Barrymore said yes.

　　"Did the child give it to you personally?" Sir Henry asked.

　　Barry mo seemed surprised, and he thought about it for a moment.

　　"No," he said, "I was in the upstairs cabin, and my wife had brought it to me. ”

　　"Was it the telegram you personally returned?"

　　"No, I told my wife how to answer, and she went downstairs and wrote."

　　That night, Barrymore brought up the issue again.

　　"I don't quite understand what your purpose in asking that question this morning, Sir Henry," he said, "I suppose you ask me that way, you wouldn't mean that I have done something to cause you to lose trust in me?" ”

　　Sir Henry was compelled to reassure him that he had no intention of doing so, and gave him most of his old clothes to reassure him. Because the new purchases in London have now all been shipped.

　　Mrs. Barrymore caught my attention, she was born fat and strong, very restrained, extremely respectable, almost with a Puritanic sternness, and it is hard to imagine a person who is more difficult to move than her. But I told you that on the first night I came here, I heard her sobbing sadly, and since then I have seen more than once with tear marks on her face, and deep sorrow eating into her heart.

　　Sometimes I wondered if she had any guilt in her heart; sometimes I suspected that Barrymore might be a tyrant of the family. I always felt that there was something particularly suspicious about this man's personality, but last night's adventure dispelled all my doubts.

　　Maybe the thing itself is trivial. You know, I'm a person who doesn't sleep very deeply, and because I'm always alert in this house, I sleep more unsteadily than usual. Last night, at about two o'clock after midnight, I was awakened by the sound of footsteps sneaking past outside the house. I climbed up, opened my door, and peeked out to see a long black shadow projected on the floor of the hallway. It was a figure with a candle in his hand, walking gently down the aisle, shirt and trousers, barefoot. I could only see the outline of his body, but from his figure I could tell that this man was Barrymore. He walked slowly, cautiously, and from his whole appearance, there was an indescribable sneaky look.

　　I told you that the corridor that surrounded the hall was cut off by a section of balcony, but on the other side of the balcony it went on. I waited until he was gone before following him again, and as I approached the balcony he had reached the end of the distant corridor, and I saw the light coming out of an open door and knew he had entered a room. Since these rooms are now neither furnished nor occupied, his behavior has become even more mysterious. The light was steady, as if he were standing motionless, and I crept along the hallway as quietly as possible, peeking into the house from the door.

　　Barrymore bent over the window, holding a candle, leaning against the window glass, the side of his head half facing me, his face looking serious with anxiety as he stared into the pitch-black moor. He stood there intently observing for a few minutes, and then he sighed deeply and extinguished the candle with an impatient gesture. I immediately went back to my room, and it didn't take long for the sound of footsteps sneaking back. Much later, just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard the sound of a lock being screwed somewhere, but I couldn't tell where the sound came from. I can't guess what it all means, but I think there's a secret going on in this gloomy house that we'll get out of here sooner or later. I don't want to bother you with my opinion, because you asked me to provide only the facts. I had a long conversation with Sir Henry this morning, and on the basis of the observations I made last night, we have made an action plan. I'm not going to talk about it yet, but it will certainly make my next report interesting to read.