Sherlock Holmes Detective Collection Baskerwell's Hounds (Part 2)

Chapter IX: Dr. Watson's Second Report

　　Lights in the Moor My Dear Holmes: If, in the early days of my mission, I have not been able to provide you with much news in desperation, you should know that I am now trying to make up for the time that has been lost, and that now, all around us, events are becoming more and more frequent and complex. In my last report, I ended my climax with Barrymore standing at the window, and if I am not mistaken, I now have material that will surprise you rather. Things changed unexpectedly. In several ways, things have become much clearer in the last forty-eight hours, but in other ways it seems to have become more complicated. I'll tell you the whole story now, and judge it for yourself.

　　Before breakfast the day after I found out about the strange thing, I crossed the hallway again and inspected the room where Barrymore had been the night before. At the west window, which he was intently looking out, I found a feature that was different from the other windows in the house—this window was open to the moor, overlooking the moor, and the closest, where it could see the moor through the gap between the two trees, while the other windows could only see a little from a distance. It can therefore be inferred that Barrymore must be looking for something or someone on the moor, for only this window applies to this end. It was very dark that night, so it was hard for me to imagine who he could see. It occurred to me that this might be a love trick, and that it might illustrate the relationship between his sneaky actions and his wife's apprehension. He was a good-looking fellow, enough to make a country woman fall in love with him, so this claim seems to have some basis. When I got back to my room, I heard the door open, probably because he had gone out to make a secret appointment. So in the morning I myself deliberated on it myself, and although it may turn out to be unfounded, I will tell you everything I suspect.

　　No matter how I should properly explain Barrymore's behavior, I always felt that it was a heavy burden on me to keep it a secret until I could explain it clearly. When I went to the Baronet's study after breakfast to look for him, I told him everything I had seen. But he was not as surprised as I thought.

　　"I already knew that Barrymore walked around a lot at night, and I wanted to talk to him about it," he said, "and I heard his footsteps walking up and down the aisle two or three times, just like you said." ”

　　"Well, maybe he's going to go to that window every night," I reminded.

　　"Maybe. If that's the case, we can follow it and see what he's doing. I really don't know what your friend Holmes would do if he were here.

　　"I'm sure he'll act as you suggest," I said, "and he'll follow Barrymore and see what he's doing." ”

　　"Then let's do it together."

　　"But he'll hear us."

　　"This guy is a bit deaf, and we have to take that opportunity anyway.

　　We'll sit in my room together tonight and wait for him to come over. Sir Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident that he had enjoyed such an adventure to dissolve the dryness of his life on the moor. *

　　The Baronet had contacted the architect who had drawn up the construction plan for Sir Charles with the builders from London, as well as the decorators and furniture merchants from Primos. So it won't be long before we see a huge change here. It is clear that our friends harbor great ideals and have decided to work tirelessly and at all costs to restore the prestige of this great family. After the house has been renovated and rearranged, it is a lady who is left behind. We can see very clearly from a few indications that this is not "too much" for the lady to do so, for I have rarely seen a man who is as fascinated as he is with our beautiful neighbour, Miss Stapleton. However, in this case, the development of true love is not as smooth as people expect. For example, the calm surface of the sea of love was disturbed today by an unexpected wave, causing great uneasiness and annoyance to our friends.

　　After finishing the conversation I had mentioned about Barrymore, Sir Henry put on his hat and prepared to go out, and of course I was ready to go out.

　　"What, are you going too, Watson?" He asked, looking at me strangely.

　　"It depends on whether you're going to the moor." I say.

　　"Yes, I'm going there."

　　"Ah, you know the instructions I have received. I am sorry to have hindered you, but you have also heard how sherlock Holmes solemnly insisted that I should not leave you, especially that you could not go to the moor alone. ”

　　Sir Henry put his hand on my shoulder with a pleasant smile.

　　"My dear companion," he said, "though Sherlock Holmes is brilliant, he has not foreseen what has happened since I arrived on the moor. Do you understand my words? I believe that you are never willing to be a person who hinders others. I must go out alone. ”

　　This put me in a very difficult position. I don't know what to say or what to do. Before I could make up my mind what to do, he had picked up his cane and left.

　　After I reconsidered the matter, I was condemned by my conscience because I had excused him to leave me. I can imagine what my feelings will be like once something unfortunate happens because I don't listen to your instructions and I have to go back to you and confess to you. Seriously, I blushed at the thought of it. Maybe it's not too late to chase him, so I'm about to set off in the direction of mellippi's mansion.

　　I hurried along the road as fast as I could, until I reached the fork in the moor path and saw Sir Henry. There, I climbed a hill because I was afraid of taking the wrong path, and from the hill I could condescendingly watch everything—

　　It's the hill that's inserted into the dark quarry. From there I saw him right away. He was walking along the path of the moor, about a quarter of a mile away from me, and beside him was a lady who else but Miss Stapleton. Apparently there was a tacit understanding between them, and it was agreed to meet, and they walked side by side and talked slowly. I saw her hands making hurried gestures, as if seriously what she had said; he listened intently, shaking his head in agreement once or twice. I stood in the middle of the rocks and looked at them, not knowing what to do next. Keeping up with them and interrupting their intimate conversation seemed like a ridiculous move, and my duty was clearly to demand that I not let them out of my sight for a moment. Stalking and snooping on a friend is an abomination. Still, what better way could I do than observe him from the mountain and confess to him afterwards for peace of mind? It is true that if any sudden danger threatened him at that time, I would have been too far away from him to come to his aid, but I am sure that you and I must have agreed. It's very difficult to be in such a position, and I don't have any other good way.

　　Our friend Sir Henry and the lady stopped again and stood there talking intently, and I suddenly realized that I was not the only one who saw them, for I saw a green thing floating in the air, and when I looked again, I realized that the green thing was mounted on the top of a pole, and that the man holding the pole was walking in a bumpy place. It turned out that it was Stapleton holding his butterfly net. He was much closer to the couple than I was, and he seemed to be walking in their direction. It was then that Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Staples closer to her, his arms wrapped around her, and she seemed to be trying to break free from his hands, her face hiding to the side. He bowed his head to her, but she raised a hand as if in protest. Then I saw them jump apart and turn around in a hurry, and it turned out that they were disturbed by Stapleton. He ran wildly toward both of them, and the butterfly net swung ridiculously behind him. He danced furiously in front of the couple, but I couldn't imagine what he meant. It looked as if Stapleton was scolding Sir Henry, and Sir was explaining, but Stapleton not only refused to accept it, but became even more furious, and the lady stood proudly and silently beside her. Finally Stapleton turned and waved imperiously to his sister, and after a hesitant glance at Sir Henry, she went with her brother. The biologist's gesture showed that he was equally unhappy with the lady. The baronet stood looking at their backs for a moment, then walked slowly back along the road. He bowed his head, fully showing a frustrated look.

　　I don't know what was going on, I was just ashamed to have peeked at our friends when they were unaware of them. I ran down the hill and met the Baronet at the foot of the hill. His face was flushed with anger, and his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he were a man who was exhausted and exhausted. *

　　"Oh my God! Watson, where did you fall from," he said, "do you really follow me?" ”

　　I explained everything to him: how I felt impossible to stay at home anymore, how I tracked him, and how I saw what was happening. He looked at me for a moment with angry eyes, but my confession diluted his anger, and he finally let out a laugh of regret and disappointment.

　　"I thought the center of the plain was a fairly reliable place that wouldn't be discovered." He said, "But oh my God! It was as if the whole village had come out to see me propose – and it was such a terrible proposal! Where is the seat you found? ”

　　"It's on that hill."

　　"It turned out to be sitting in the back row far away, ah! But her brother did come to the front row. Did you see him running towards us? ”

　　"Yes, I saw it."

　　"Have you ever seen him look like crazy?" - Her good brother. ”

　　"I haven't seen it."

　　"I dare say he's not crazy at all. To this day, I have always thought of him as a man of clear-headedness, but, believe me, either he or I, there will always be a tight suit for a madman. But what's wrong with me? You've been with me for a few weeks too, Watson. feed! Tell me frankly! What's wrong with me that prevents me from being a good husband to the woman I love? ”

　　"According to me, no."

　　"He will never oppose my social status, and therefore he must hate me because of my own shortcomings." What is there he can do against me? Of the people I've known all my life, male or female, I haven't offended. But he was barely allowed to touch the tip of her finger. ”

　　"Did he say anything like that?"

　　"Is that more than that?" I tell you, Watson, I have only known her for a few weeks, but from the beginning I felt as if she had been made for me; and she thought the same thing—she felt happy with me, and I swear that the woman's eyes were more powerful than her words. But he never let us stay together, and it was only today that I found the opportunity to talk to her alone for the first time. She was happy to see me, but after meeting me, she didn't want to talk about love, and if she could stop me, she wouldn't even allow me to talk about love. She repeatedly said that this was a dangerous place and that she would never be happy unless I left here.

　　I told her that I hadn't been in a hurry to get out of here since I had met her, and if she really wanted me to go, the only way was for her to try to walk with me.

　　I said a lot and asked to marry her, but before she could answer, her brother ran toward us, his face like a madman. His face turned white with rage, and even his pale eyes lit up with anger. What happened to that lady? How dare I do something that makes her unhappy? Is it because I think I'm a baronet and can do whatever I want? If he wasn't her brother, there would have been no difficulty dealing with him. I only told him that I was not ashamed of the feelings I had with his sister, and that I wanted her to condescend to be my wife. This did not seem to make things better in the slightest, so I lost my temper later. Maybe it was a little too much in my answer to him, because she was still standing next to him. You see the ending, he went with her, and I was simply more inexplicable and overwhelmed than anyone else. Watson, if you can tell me what's going on, I'm really grateful to you. ”

　　I tried to come up with one or two explanations at the time; to be honest, even I didn't really figure out why. As far as our friend's identity, property, age, character, and appearance are concerned, the conditions are the most superior, and I can hardly find anything unfavorable to him except the misfortune that haunts his family. It is astonishing that, without the slightest consideration of the lady's own wishes, she was so rudely rebuffed from her suitors, and that the lady was able to express no protest in this case. In the afternoon, Stapleton visited in person, which calmed down all the speculations in our hearts. He had come to apologize for his rudeness in the morning, and the two had a long meeting in Sir Henry's study, and the rift was cleared. It was up to us to decide to go to Mellippi for dinner next week.

　　"I'm not saying he's not a madman now," said Sir Henry, "and I can't forget the look in his eyes when he came to me this morning, but I have to admit that no one can apologize as perfectly and naturally as he is." ”

　　"Did he do anything to explain his behavior in the morning?"

　　"He said his sister was everything in his life. It was natural, and I was happy that he valued her so much. They had been living together all along, and as he himself had said, he was a very lonely man, with her by his side, so how terrible it was when he thought of losing her!

　　He said that he had not thought that I had fallen in love with her, but when he saw with his own eyes that it was true, and felt that I might take her from him, he was so shocked that he could not take responsibility for his words and deeds at that time. He was very sorry for what had happened, and he realized how stupid and selfish it was for him to want to tie the life of a beautiful woman like his sister to his side for personal gain. If she had to leave him, he would rather marry her to a neighbor like me than to someone else. But in any case, this was a serious blow to him, so it would take him some time to mentally prepare himself for the coming of the matter. If I promised to put the matter on hold for the next three months, during which time I would only cultivate friendship with the lady without asking for her love, he would decide not to object again. I agreed to this, and things settled down. ”*

　　In our small mysteries, one was thus clarified. It's as if we're struggling in the mud and hitting the bottom somewhere. Now we understand why Stapleton despised his sister's suitor like that,—even if that suitor was as appropriate as Sir Henry. Now I shall turn to another clue drawn from a messy line, namely the secret of the half-night cry and the tear-stained face of Mrs. Barrymore, and the secret of the butler's way to the west lattice window. Congratulations to me, my dear Holmes, you must say that I have not failed to live up to your instructions, and you will not regret the trust you placed in me when you sent me. These things were completely clarified after a night's effort.

　　When I say ,"after one night of hard work," I actually went through two nights of hard work, because the first night we didn't come up with anything. Sir Henry and I sat in his room until nearly three o'clock in the morning, but we heard nothing but the sound of the big bell at the top of the stairs. It was the most pitiful night of staying up, and it turned out that we both fell asleep in our chairs. Fortunately, we were not discouraged and decided to try again. The next night, we sat there with our lamps twisted and smoked silently. Time seems to pass incredibly slowly, but we rely on the hunters to watch over the traps we have set, hoping that the animals we want to catch will inadvertently break into them. The bell rang once and again, and in despair we almost wanted to give up again, when suddenly we both sat up straight in our chairs, and all our tired senses became alert and sharp again. We heard creaking footsteps in the aisles.

　　We listened to the footsteps and sneaked past until they disappeared in the distance. Then the baronet gently pushed open the door, and we began to track. The man had turned into the cloister, which was pitch black. We walked gently to the box on the other side, just in time to see his tall figure with a black beard. He bent over and walked gently through the aisle on tiptoe, and then walked into the doorway where he had last entered, the outline of which was revealed in the darkness by candlelight, and a yellow light passed through the dark corridor. We walked carefully in small steps, testing each floor with full body weight. We didn't wear shoes to be careful, but still, the old floor creaked under our feet. Sometimes it seemed impossible for him not to hear us approaching, but fortunately the man was rather deaf, and he was doing his thing with full concentration.

　　Finally, we went to the door and sneaked a peek and saw him standing bent over the window, with a candle in his hand, his pale and attentive face pressed against the window pane, exactly as I had seen the night before.

　　We did not plan our plan of action in advance, but the baronet always thought that the most straightforward approach was always the most natural. He walked into the house, and Barrymore jumped out of the window, took a sharp breath and stood in front of us, pale and trembling. He looked at Sir Henry and at me again, and on his pale face, the gleaming dark eyes filled with a look of horror.

　　"What are you doing here, Barrymore?"

　　"Nothing, sir." The intense panic and uneasiness made him unable to speak, and because the candle in his hand was constantly shaking, the figure kept beating. "Sir, I walk around at night to see if the windows are all latched."

　　"On the second floor?"

　　"Yes, sir. All the windows. ”

　　"Tell you, Barrymore," said Sir Henry sternly, "we are determined to make you tell the truth, so that you may say it sooner than later, lest I be troubled." Now, say it! Don't lie! What are you doing in front of that window? ”

　　The guy looked at us helplessly, as if he were a man in extreme fear and pain, his hands twisted together.

　　"There's no harm in me doing this, sir, I just brought the candle closer to the window!"

　　"But why did you bring the candle closer to the window?"

　　"Don't ask me, Sir Henry—don't ask me!" Let me tell you, sir, that this is not my personal secret, and I cannot say it, and if it has nothing to do with anyone else and is my own business, I will not hide it from you. ”

　　Suddenly, I took the candle from the butler's shaking hand.

　　"He must have used it as a signal," I said, "and let's see if there's any answer signal." "I, too, took the candle like him and stared out into the darkness. I could only vaguely discern the overlapping black tree shadows and the vast moor of slightly fainter color, for the moon was obscured by clouds. Later, I cheered loudly, and in the distance, directly in the center of the dark square window frame, a tiny yellow dot of light suddenly appeared and pierced the dark night. *

　　"There it is!" I shouted.

　　"No, no, sir, that's nothing—nothing!" The butler interjected, "I assure you, Sir..."

　　"Move your lights out of the window, Watson!" The baronet cried out, "Behold, that light has moved away too!" Ah, you old rogue, are you still going to say that it's not a signal? Come on, say it! Who is your accomplice and what conspiracy is ongoing? ”

　　The man's face was blatantly bold and rude.

　　"This is my personal business, not yours, and I will not say it."

　　"Then you won't be here right away."

　　"Excellent, sir. If I have to go I will go. ”

　　"You left very unseemly. Oh, my God! You should know some shame! The people of your family and my family have lived together in this house for a hundred years, and now I will find out that you are deliberately engaged in some conspiracy to harm me. ”

　　"No, no, sir, it's not harming you!" A woman's voice came.

　　Mrs. Barrymore was standing in the doorway, paler and more frightened than her husband's. If it weren't for the look of horror on her face, her huge body in a skirt and shawl might have looked ridiculous.

　　"We must go." Elisa. It's over. Go pack up our stuff. The butler said.

　　"Oh, John! John! I'm the one who brought you to this point, and I did it, Sir Henry—it's all my business. It was entirely because of me, and because I begged him, that he did that. ”

　　"So, just say it, what does it mean?"

　　"My unfortunate brother is starving in the moor, and we can't let him starve to death at our door." This light is the signal that the food is ready, and the light on his side indicates the place where the food is delivered. ”

　　"So your brother is..."

　　"It's the fugitive, Sir—the criminal Serdan."

　　"It's true, sir." Barrymore said, "I said that it wasn't my personal secret, and I couldn't tell you. But now that you've heard it, you'll understand that even if there's a conspiracy, it's not going to hurt you. ”

　　This is the explanation for late-night sneaking and the lights in front of the window. Sir Henry and I both stared at the woman in amazement. Is this possible? How could this tenacious and honorable woman be born with the most notorious criminal in the country?

　　"Yes, sir, my last name is Serdan, and he is my brother. When he was young, we overbeared him, whatever he wanted, and made him think that the world existed to make him happy, and that he should therefore do whatever he wanted in this world. When he grew up, he met bad friends again, and he became bad until his mother was heartbroken and tarnished the reputation of our family. As a result of repeated sins, he fell deeper and deeper, and finally reached the point where if it were not for God's mercy, he would have been sent to the guillotine. But to me, sir, he will always be the curly-haired child I used to raise and play with as a sister. He dared to escape from prison, Sir, because he knew we lived here, and we could not fail to help him. One night, he arrived here dragging his tired and hungry body, and the jailers were chasing after him, what else could we do? We brought him in, fed him, and took care of him. Then, Sir, you came, and my brother thought it safer for him to go to the moor than anywhere before the wind passed, so he went there and hid. Every other night, we put a light in front of the window to see if he was still there, and if there was an answer signal, my husband would bring him some bread and meat. We want him to go fast every day, but as long as he's still there, we can't ignore him. I am an honest Christian, and you can see that if there is any sin in doing so, you cannot blame my husband, but blame me, because he did those things for me. ”

　　The woman's words sounded very sincere, and the words themselves proved that they were all true.

　　"Is this all true? Barrymore? ”

　　"Yes, Sir Henry. It's completely true. ”

　　"Well, I can't blame you for doing your wife a favor. Forget what I just said. You can now go back to your room, and we'll talk about it tomorrow morning. ”

　　After they left, we looked out the window again.

　　Sir Henry opened the window, and the cold wind of the night blew our faces. In the dark distance, the little yellow dot of light was still shining.

　　"I wonder how he dared to do this?" Sir Henry said.

　　"Maybe the place where he shines can only be seen from here."

　　"Probably, how far do you think it is from here?"

　　"I think it's on the other side of Rift Mountain."

　　"But a mile or two away."

　　"I'm afraid it's not that far away."

　　"Well, barrymore can't be far from where he delivers the food, and the bad guy is waiting by the candle." Oh my God, Watson, I really wanted to catch that guy. ”

　　The same thought came to my mind, and it seemed that the Barrymores did not necessarily trust us, and that their secrets had been exposed. That man was a danger to society, a complete villain, and should neither be pitied nor forgiven. If we take this opportunity to send him back to a place where he can no longer harm others, then we are merely doing our duty. As far as his cruel and ferocious nature is concerned, if we stand idly by, others may have to pay a price. For example, on any night our neighbour Stapleton could be attacked by him, and perhaps it was with this in mind that Sir Henry took such a risk.

　　"I'll go too." I said.

　　"Then you take your revolver with you and put on your high-barreled leather shoes." The sooner we set off, the better, and the guy might blow out the candle and run away. ”

　　In less than five minutes we were out the door and began the expedition, and we hurried through the dark bushes amid the whispers of the autumn wind and the rustling of fallen leaves. The night air smelled thick with dampness and decay. From time to time, the moon looks down from the gap in the clouds, and the clouds gallop through the air. As soon as we reached the moor, it began to drizzle. But the candlelight was still shining steadily in front of it.

　　"Did you bring a weapon?" I asked.

　　"I have a hunting whip."

　　"We must rush toward him quickly, because he is said to be a deadly fellow. We have to catch him unexpectedly, and we have to let him obey before he can resist. ”

　　I say, Watson, said the Baronet, what would she say about such a Holmes? In such a dark night, when sin is raging. ”

　　As if answering his words, there was suddenly a strange roar from the vast and gloomy moor, the same one I had heard on the edge of the quagmire of the Great Green Basin. The sound swept through the dark night sky by the wind, first a long, deep whisper, then a loud roar, then a miserable groan, and then it disappeared. The sound came out in bursts, harsh, wild and frightening, and the whole space throbbed. The baronet grabbed my sleeve, and his face turned miserable white in the darkness.

　　"My God, what is that, Watson?"

　　"I don't know. It was a sound from the moor, and I had heard it once. ”

　　The sound was gone, and the death-like silence enveloped us tightly. We stood there listening, but we couldn't hear anything.

　　"Watson," said the baronet, "this is the cry of a hound. ”

　　I felt cold all the blood in my body, because there was a pause in his words, indicating that he had suddenly developed fear.

　　"What do they call this voice?" he asked.

　　"Who?"

　　"O countryman!"

　　"Ah, they are all unsound people, why do you care what they call that voice?"

　　"Tell me, Watson, what did they say?" I hesitated, but I couldn't escape the problem.

　　"They said that was the bark of the Baskerville hounds."

　　He grunted for a while, then fell silent for a moment.

　　"It's a hunting dog," he said at last, "but the voice seems to come from miles away, I think it's probably over there." ”

　　"It's hard to say which side it came from."

　　"The sound rises and falls with the wind. Isn't that the direction of the Great Green Basin over there? ”

　　"Well, exactly."

　　"Ah, it's over there. Hey, Watson, don't you think it's a hound bark?

　　I'm not a kid, so don't be afraid, though to be honest. ”

　　"The last time I heard it, I was swallowing with Staple. He said it might be the cry of a strange bird. ”

　　"No, no, that's a hunting dog. My God, are these stories somewhat true? You wouldn't believe that, would you, Watson? ”

　　"No, I don't believe it."

　　"It can be used as a joke in London, but here, standing in the pitch-black moor, listening to cries like this, is another matter entirely. After my uncle died, in the place where he was lying, there were the footprints of hounds next to him, and these were all put together. I don't think I'm a coward, Watson, but that sound is almost freezing my blood. You touch my hand! ”

　　His hand was as cold as a stone.

　　"You'll be fine tomorrow."

　　"I don't think I can help but make that cry imprinted in my head. What do you think we should do now? ”

　　"Shall we go back?"

　　"No, no, we are out to catch people, we must continue to do it." We are searching for criminals, but maybe there is a devilish hound tracking us down. Come on! Even if all the demons in the cave are put into the moor, we must also persevere to the end. ”*

　　We stumbled slowly in the dark, dark and jagged mountain shadows surrounding us, the yellow dots of light still shining steadily in front of us. In the darkness of the night, there is nothing more deceptive than the distance of a light, sometimes as if it were far away on the horizon, and sometimes it seemed to be only a few yards away from us. But we finally saw where it was, and then we realized that it was very close. A candle flowing with wax oil was inserted in a stone crevice, blocked by rocks on both sides, so as to avoid the wind and to make it invisible except for the Baskerville Manor. A protruding granite stone obscured us. So we bent over behind it and looked at the light from above the stone as a signal. It was a miracle to see a candle lit in the middle of the moor, with no sign of life around it—only a yellow flame standing upright and shining rocks on either side.

　　"What do we do now?" Sir Henry said quietly.

　　"Just wait here, he must be near the candlelight." Let's see if we can see him. ”

　　As soon as I spoke, the two of us saw him, and a terrible yellow face popped out from behind the rock near the candle—a frightening beastly face, fleshy, dirty, with long, thick whiskers, unkempt hair, much like the savages who lived in caves on the edge of the mountain in ancient times. The candle below him shone into his small, cunning eyes, peering horribly into the darkness to the left and right, as if it were a cunning beast that had heard the footsteps of a hunter.

　　Apparently something had aroused his suspicions. Maybe it was because he had some secret code with Barrymore that we don't know, or maybe the guy sensed something was wrong for other reasons, because I saw a look of fear in his fierce face. For considering that every second he might slip away from the light and disappear into the darkness, I jumped forward, and Sir Henry followed.

　　Just then, the criminal screamed at us, and he hit us with a stone, and the stone shattered on the big stone that covered us. When he jumped up and turned to run away, it happened that the moonlight had just shone through the cracks in the clouds, and I saw his stocky and strong figure. We rushed over the hill, and the man sped down the hillside, jumping up and down the rocks with goat-like movements along the way. If I had fired my revolver from a distance, I would have crippled him by chance, but I had brought it only for self-defense when attacked, not for hitting an unarmed man who was on the run.

　　Both of us were fast-legged and fairly well trained, but it didn't take long for us to know that there was no hope of catching up with him. In the moonlight we could see him for a long time, until he became a fast-moving dot in the middle of a rock on the side of a hill in the distance. We ran and ran until we were exhausted, but the distance between him and us was getting bigger and bigger. Finally, we sat down on two large rocks, gasping for breath as we watched him disappear in the distance.

　　Just then one of the strangest and most unimaginable things happened. By then we had risen from the rocks, given up the hopeless pursuit, and were about to turn around and go home. The moon hangs low in the right-hand sky, and the lower half of the full moon sets off a rugged spire of granite granite. In front of the bright background, I saw the figure of a man, standing on the top of the rocky hill, just like a dark bronze statue. Don't think it's an illusion, Sherlock Holmes. I dare say that I have never seen it so clearly in my life. In my judgment, it was a tall and thin man. He stood slightly apart on his legs, arms crossed, and bowed his head, as if he were thinking about something in front of the vast wilderness covered with peat and rocks in front of him. He may be the spirit of that terrible place. He was not the criminal, he was far from where the criminal had fled, and he was much taller. I screamed and pointed him to the baronet, but just as I turned and grabbed his arm, the man was gone. At this time the granite spire still covered the lower part of the moon, but there was no trace of the man who stood still on top of it.

　　I wanted to go in that direction and search the rocky hill, but it was quite a distance. Ever since hearing the cry that reminded him of the terrible story of his family, the baronet's nerves had been trembling, and he had no intention of taking any more risks. He hadn't seen the lonely man on top of the rock, so he hadn't yet been able to appreciate the creepy feeling that the man's strange appearance and his majestic aura had given me.

　　"It's a jailer, that's right." He said, "Since this guy escaped, the moor is full of them. ”

　　Well, maybe his explanation is correct, but I wouldn't believe it without further proof. Today, we intend to send a telegram to the people of Prince Town telling them that they should go there to find their fugitive. It was unfortunate to say that we had not been able to bring him back as our captive in a victorious manner. That's the adventure we took last night. You have to confess, my dear Holmes, to give you a report, for I have done a very good job for you. Many of the things I have told you are undoubtedly very off-topic, but I always feel that it is better to let me tell you all the facts and let you choose which ones will help you to draw conclusions. Of course we have made some progress, and in the case of Barrymore, we have figured out the motives for his actions, which clarifies the whole situation a lot. But the mysterious moorlands and their peculiar inhabitants are still unfathomable, and perhaps in the next report I will be able to clarify this a little. It is better that you come to us. In any case, within a few days you will receive my letter again.

　　Sent from Baskerville Manor on October 15

　　Chapter 10 Excerpts from Dr. Watson's Diary

　　I have been quoting reports that I had previously sent to Sherlock Holmes. But at this point, I had to abandon this method again, relying again on my memories, on my diary at that time. A few short diaries remind me of scenes that are exhaustive and deeply imprinted in my memory. Well, I'll start with the morning we hunted down fugitives in vain in the moor and experienced that adventure.

　　October 16 – Today is a dark, foggy, drizzling day. The house was surrounded by a billowing fog, but the fog rose from time to time, revealing the undulating moorland of the desert, with a slender stream of water like a wisp of silver on the hillside, and the wet surface of the rocks protruding in the distance, shining in the skylight, and immersed in a gloomy atmosphere from the surface and inside. The horror of the previous night had had a bad effect on the Baron; I felt a heavy heart, a sense of imminent danger—and an ever-present danger, which seemed particularly frightening because I could not describe it. stuff

　　Is there no reason for me to feel this way? One need only consider this long series of unexpected events that have occurred in succession to show that a planned and evil activity is taking place all around us. The death of the previous owner of the manor was a dismay to the legend of the family, as well as the monsters that the farmers repeatedly claimed to have appeared in the moor. Twice I heard what sounded like a hound howling in the distance, but what could be truly unnatural?

　　It is simply neither credible nor possible. A magic dog, but it has left a claw mark, and it can howl into the sky, which is really unimaginable. Stapleton might have believed this nonsense, and Mortimer might have believed it, but if I could have a little common sense, I couldn't believe it anyway. If I believed it myself, it would be tantamount to willingly reducing myself to the level of these poor croppers. It wasn't enough that they described the dog as a demon, and even described it as a mouth and eyes spewing hellish fire outwards. Holmes would never listen to these whimsical claims, and I am his agent. I've heard this twice in the moor. But the facts are facts after all, and if there are really any big hounds running up to the moor, then everything is explained. But where could such a hound hide? Where does it go to find food? Where did it come from? Why doesn't anyone see it during the day? It is undeniable that both the explanations that conform to the laws of nature and the explanations that do not conform to the laws of nature are now equally difficult to make sense. Leaving aside this hound for the time being, then the "man" found in London is always the truth! The man in the carriage, and the letter warning Sir Henry not to come to the moor, were at least true. It could be something to protect his friend, but it could also be something an enemy could do. Where is that friend or enemy now? Is he still in London, or has he followed us here? Will he... Could it be the stranger I saw standing on the rocky hill?

　　It is true that I only saw him once, but there are a few points I am sure of.

　　He is by no means the man I have ever met here, and I have met all my neighbors now. He was much taller than Stapleton and much thinner than Frankland. Maybe it might be Barrymore, but we've left him at home, and I'm sure he won't follow us. With that said, there must be someone else following us, just as a stranger followed us in London, and we have not been able to get rid of him. If we can catch that person, then all our difficulties will be solved. In order to achieve this, I now have to go all out.

　　My first thought was to tell Sir Henry my whole plan; the second, and I think the wisest, was to do it myself, and try not to talk to anyone. He seemed silent and dazed, the sound of the moor had shocked his nerves in disbelief, and I was unwilling to deepen his anxiety with anything more, and in order to achieve my intended purpose, I had to take separate action.

　　After breakfast this morning, we had another small incident. Barrymore asked to speak alone with Sir Henry, and they stayed in Sir Henry's study behind closed doors for a while. I sat in the marbles room more than once and heard the conversation grow louder, and I knew exactly what was being discussed. After a while, the baronet opened the door and told me to come in.

　　"Barrymore thinks he's a little dissatisfied," he said, "and he thinks it's unfair for us to go after his brother-in-law after he's voluntarily told us the secret." ”

　　The steward stood in front of us, very pale, but very calm.

　　"Maybe I've gone too far, sir," he said, "and if that's the case, I'll beg your forgiveness." But I was really surprised when I heard the two of you come back this morning and learn that you were going after Serdan. This poor fellow, without me bothering him any more, is enough for him to fight for a while. ”

　　"If you had told us on your own initiative, perhaps this would not have happened," said the baronet," said the baronet, "but the reality is that you, or rather, when your wife was forced to say it." ”

　　"I really didn't expect you to take advantage of this, Sir Henry... I really didn't expect that. ”

　　"This man is a danger to society. There are lonely people everywhere in the moor, and he is a lawless man, just look at him and you will understand this. For example, if you look at Mr. Stapleton's home, he is the only one who protects it. No one will feel safe unless Serdan is put back in jail. ”

　　"He will never break into anyone's house, sir, I can assure you of that. He will not harass anyone here anyway, and I assure you, Sir Henry, that in a few days the necessary arrangements will be made, and he will be going to South America. Look in the face of God, Sir, I beg you not to let the police know he is still in the moor. There they had given up their pursuit of him, and he could hide quietly until the ship was ready. If you report him, you will surely trouble me and my wife. I beg you, sir, not to say anything to the police. ”

　　"What do you think, Watson?"

　　I shrugged. "If he can get out of the country safely, it will be a burden on taxpayers."

　　"But will he be a guy before he leaves?"

　　"He's not going to go crazy like that, sir, and we've got everything he needs ready for him." If he sinned again, he would reveal his hiding place. ”

　　"That's true," said Sir Henry, "well, Barrymore..."

　　"God bless you, Sir, I thank you from the bottom of my heart! If he were to be arrested again, my poor wife would not be able to survive. ”

　　"I suppose we're abetting a major crime, Watson?" But after listening to what he had just said, I felt as if I could no longer report the man. Well, Barrymore, you can go. ”

　　The man turned around while intermittently saying words of thanks, but he hesitated and then turned back.

　　"You have been so kind to us, sir, and I will do everything in my power to repay you. I know one thing, Sir Henry, that I may have said it a long time ago, but it was only long after the autopsy that I discovered it. I have not mentioned this to anyone yet, but it is something related to sir Charles's death. ”

　　The Baronet and I both stood up. "Do you know how he died?"

　　"No, sir, I don't know about that."

　　"So, what do you know?"

　　"I know why he was standing by that door, it was to meet a woman."

　　"Go meet a woman!" he?! ”

　　"Yes, sir."

　　"What's that woman's name?"

　　"I can't tell you her name, sir, but I can tell you the prefix of that name." The prefix of her name is L. Ｌ． ”

　　"How do you know that, Barrymore?"

　　"Ah, Sir Henry, your uncle received a letter that morning. He often received many letters, because he was a well-known figure, and he was also known for his kindness, so whoever was in trouble liked to turn to him for help. But that morning, there happened to be only that one letter, so it caught my special attention. The letter had been sent from Qom Tracy and was in the woman's handwriting. ”

　　"Huh?"

　　"Ah, sir, if it were not for my wife's relationship, I would never have thought of it, and perhaps I would never have remembered it." Just a few weeks ago, as she was cleaning Up Sir Charles's study—which had not been touched since his death—she found the ashes of a burned letter behind the furnace lattice. Most of the letter had been charred and broken into small pieces, and only a small note at the end of the letter was still intact, and the handwriting appeared gray on the black ground, which could still be seen. It seems to be an epigraph at the end of the letter, which reads: 'You are a gentleman, please burn this letter and go to the gate at ten o'clock.' 'Below is the use of L. Ｌ． The first name of these two words. ”*

　　"Is that note still with you?"

　　"No, sir, as soon as we move, it shatters."

　　"Has Sir Charles ever received a letter in the same handwriting?"

　　"Oh, sir, I didn't pay special attention to his letters. It was only because the letter was sent separately that I noticed it. ”

　　"You can't figure out L. Ｌ． Who is it? ”

　　"I don't know, sir, I don't know much more than you do. But I think that if we could find the lady, we would know more about Sir Charles's death. ”

　　"I'm really baffled, Barrymore, how could you keep such an important situation secret?"

　　"Oh, sir, that's just after our own troubles arrived. And then there is, Sir, we both love Sir Charles, and we cannot fail to take into account his kindness to us. We do not think it will do us any good to bring this out to our poor master, and that this question also implicates a lady, and of course it is all the more important to proceed with caution. Even the best of us..."

　　"Do you think this will hurt his reputation?"

　　"Well, sir, I don't think there's going to be any good going on. But you are so kind to us now that I feel that if I don't tell you the whole story about this, then I'm so sorry for you. ”

　　"Great, Barrymore, you can go." When the steward was gone, Sir Henry turned to me and said, "Hey, Watson, what do you think of this new discovery?" ”

　　"It seems to be another difficult problem, making it even more inexplicable than before."

　　"I think so too, but as long as we can find out L. Ｌ． This person may have figured out the whole problem. There are so many clues we can get, and we already know that someone knows the truth of the matter, as long as they can find her. Where do you think we should start? ”

　　"Tell Holmes all the way through it at once, so that he can provide him with the clues he has been looking for." If that doesn't attract him here, that's a strange thing. ”

　　I went back to my room at once and wrote to Holmes a report on the conversation this morning. It was clear to me that he had been busy lately because of the very few letters sent from Baker Street. It was also short, and there was no comment on the news I had provided him, and it was even more rare to mention my task. There is no doubt that his spirit is fully focused on the case of the anonymous threatening letter. However, this new development of events is sure to attract his attention and restore his interest in the case. How nice it would be if he were here now.

　　October 17 – Today's heavy rain is all day long, pouring ivy and dripping with water from the eaves. I thought of the fugitive in the desolate, cold and uncovered moorland. Poor man! No matter what sin he had committed, the suffering he was suffering now had finally atonement for his sins. I thought of another man —

　　The face in the carriage, the figure in front of the moon, the hidden watcher and the incomprehensible man—was he also in the pouring rain? In the evening, I put on my raincoat and rain boots and walked far out in the wet and soft moor, my heart full of terrible imagination, the rain hitting my face and the wind whistling in my ears.

　　But ask God to help those who are wandering in the quagmire, for even the hard heights have become quagmire. I finally found the black rock hill, and it was on this rock hill that I saw the lonely watchman, and from its saga peak, I glanced at the gloomy highlands near and far without trees. The storm mixed with heavy rain brushed the russet ground, thick bluestone-like clouds, suspended low above the earth, and there were wisps of gray residual clouds dragging on the strangely shaped mountainside. In the distant ravine on the left, the two slender towers of the Baskerville Estate, through the mist, stood half-hidden high in the woods. Aside from the small prehistoric houses that were crammed up the hillside, this was the only sign of human life I could see. There was no trace of the lonely man I had seen in the same place two nights earlier.

　　As I walked back, Dr. Mortimer came up, and he rode his two-wheeled carriage on a bumpy moor path leading to the outlying Farmhouse of Foomere. He had always cared deeply about us, and hardly a day had he gone out of the manor to see if we were doing well. He made sure I got into his carriage, so I took his car home. I knew that he had been very troubled lately by the disappearance of the little long-eared steak; the puppy had not returned since he had once run around into the moor. I comforted him as best I could, but as soon as I thought of the ponies in the quagmire of Green Basin, I no longer had any illusions that he would see his puppy again.

　　"I said, Mortimer," I said as we jolted and tossed the rough road, "I suppose that there are very few people you do not know here who can be reached by carriage. ”

　　"I think, not at all."

　　"So, can you tell me which women's names have the prefix L. Ｌ． this? ”

　　He thought for a few minutes.

　　"No," he said, "I don't know how many Gypsies and hard laborers there are, and none of the peasants or squires has the name of that." Oh, wait a minute," he paused and then said, "there's a Laura Lyons—her name is L. Ｌ． But she lives in Combe Tracy. ”

　　"Who is she?" I asked.

　　"She's Frankland's daughter."

　　"What! Is that old nerve Frankland? ”

　　It was she who married a painter surnamed Lyons who had come to the moor to draw sketches. But he was a vulgar villain, and he abandoned her. Judging by what I have heard, the fault may not be entirely on one side. Anything about her, her father decided to leave it alone, because she got married without his consent, and perhaps for other reasons. Because of the discord between this debauched old fellow and his daughter, the woman was in an embarrassing situation. ”

　　"Then how does she live?"

　　"I suppose old Frankland will give her some financial support, but it can't be much, because his own mess has dragged him down quite enough." No matter how sinful she deserves, she cannot be saved from falling. After word got out of her story, some people here tried to help her so that she could live a proper life. Stapleton and Chalz both helped, and I gave her a little money to start typing. ”

　　He wanted to know what the purpose of my questions was, but I couldn't satisfy his curiosity and didn't tell him much, because I had no reason to trust anyone. I'm going to Combe Tracy tomorrow morning. If I could meet the ambiguous Mrs. Laura Lyons, I would have taken the investigation done to clarify this mysterious sequence of mysteries a step further. I must have developed to be as clever as a snake, for when Mortimer asked him what type of skull Frankland belonged to when it was very difficult to answer. In this way, until you reach your destination, you will hear nothing but skull science. I finally didn't spend so many years with Sherlock Holmes.

　　In this stormy and gloomy weather, there is only one thing worth documenting.

　　That was the conversation I had with Barrymore just now, and he gave me a powerful card that could be used at the right time.

　　Mortimer stayed behind for dinner, after which he and the baronet-to-be played cards.

　　The steward came to the study to bring me coffee, and I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions.

　　"Ah," I said, "your good relatives are gone?" Or is it still hidden there? ”

　　"I don't know, sir. Hopefully he's gone, because he's only going to cause trouble here. I haven't heard anything about him since the last time I brought him food, and that was three days ago. ”

　　"Did you see him that time?"

　　"No, sir, but when I go there again, the food is gone."

　　"So he must still be there?"

　　"Sir, unless he was taken by someone else, you must think he's still there."

　　I sat there, and before the coffee was even to my mouth, I stared at him again and asked, "So, do you know there's another person?" ”

　　"Yes, sir, there is another man in the moor."

　　"Did you see him?"

　　"No, sir."

　　"Then how do you know?"

　　"It was Seldan who told me, sir, a week ago or earlier. He was hiding too, but I reckon he wasn't a fugitive. I'm really nerve-wracking about these things, Dr. Watson—I'll be honest with you, sir, these things really hurt my head. He said suddenly with sincere and fervent emotion.

　　"Now, listen to me, Barrymore! I'm just for your master, otherwise I wouldn't be interested in anything like this. I came here for no purpose other than to help him. Tell me frankly, what makes you so upset? ”

　　Barry mo hesitated for a moment, as if regretting that he should not have spoken out loud or felt that it was difficult to express his feelings in words.

　　"It's all that keeps happening, sir," he shouted at last, waving his hand at the rain-washed window toward the moor, "I'm sure there's an assassination going on there, a terrible conspiracy brewing!" Sir, I wish Sir Henry could go back to London. ”

　　"But what is the factual basis for what has frightened you like this?"

　　"Look at sir Charles's death! Take what the coroner said, it's bad enough. If you look at the strange noises in the moor at night, after sunset, no one will walk through the moor no matter how much money you give. And the man hiding there, who was there peeping and waiting! What was he waiting for? What is the intention? All this, for anyone in the Baskervilles, is in no way a good sign. By the day sir Henry's new servants come to take over the manor, I will be happy to leave it all. ”

　　"But about this stranger on the moor," I said, "can you tell me anything?" What did Seldan say? Did he find his hiding place or discover what he was doing? ”

　　"Seldan had seen him once or twice, but he was a very sinister fellow who wouldn't reveal anything. At first he thought the man was a policeman, but soon he discovered that the man had other plans. To him, the man seemed to be an upper-class man, but he couldn't figure out what he was doing. ”

　　"Did he say where the man lived?"

　　"In the old house on the hillside—the little stone house where the ancient man lived."

　　"But what about his meal?"

　　"Seldan found a small child at his service and gave him what he needed. I dare say that the boy went to Qom Tracy to get what he needed. ”

　　"Excellent, Barrymore. Let's talk about this question in depth another day. After the steward had left, I looked through the blurred window panes at the clouds galloping outside, and the contours of the treetops that had been swept away by the wind. Such a night would be sinister enough indoors, let alone smell in a stone house on the moor. What a strong hatred can make a person lurk in such a place at such a time! What kind of far-reaching and impatient purpose made him work so hard! The center of the problem that seems to bother me is in the house on the moor. I vow to do everything possible tomorrow to discover the mysterious core.

　　Chapter 11: The Man on the Rock

　　The previous chapter, written by means of an excerpt from my diary, is already narrated until October 18. That's when these strange things began to develop rapidly, and they were approaching a terrible end. What happened in the days that followed is unforgettablely etched in my memory, and I can tell without reference to the records made at that time. Let me start with the day after two very important facts were clarified. One of the two facts that have been said is that Mrs. Laura Lyons of Tracy of Qom once wrote to Sir Charles Baskerville and agreed to meet at the place and time where he died; the other was that the man who was lurking in the moor could be found in the stone house on the edge of the hill. After grasping these two situations, I felt that if I could not make the suspicion a little clear, then I must be either incompetent or lack courage.

　　Yesterday evening, I had not been given the opportunity to tell the Baronet what I had learned about Mrs. Lyons, because Dr. Mortimer had been playing cards with him until late. It was only at breakfast this morning that I told him what I had found and asked him if he would like to accompany me to Qom Tracy. At first he was anxious to go, but after reconsidering, we both felt that if I went alone, the result would be better. Because the more serious the format of the visit, the less we can learn. So I left Sir Henry at home, and with a little uneasiness I drove out for a new exploration.

　　When I got to Combe Tracy, I told Perkins to set the horses up and went to hear about the lady I was visiting. I easily found her property, the location is moderate and well furnished. A maid led me in very casually, and as I entered the drawing room a lady sitting in front of a Remington typewriter stood up quickly and greeted me with a smile; but when she saw that I was a stranger, her face returned to her original state, sat down again, and asked me the purpose of my visit.

　　Mrs. Lyons's first impression was of extreme beauty. Her eyes and hair were dark brown, and although she had many freckles on her cheeks, she had the right amount of redness for a brown-skinned person, as if a pleasant pink loomed in the heart of a yellowish rose. I repeat, and the first impression I have is admiration. But then I found the shortcomings, and there was something wrong on the face that could not be said, some rough expressions, perhaps the eyes were a little stiff, the lips were a little loose, and these all ruined the flawless beauty. Of course, these were all afterthoughts, when all I knew was that I was standing in front of a very beautiful woman and listening to her ask me the purpose of my visit. It was only then that I really realized how tricky my task was.

　　"I have the privilege of knowing your father," I said, "." ”

　　Such a self-introduction was stupid, and I could feel it in the woman's reaction.

　　"My father had nothing to do with me," she said, "and I owe him nothing, and his friends are not my friends." Had it not been for the late Sir Charles Baskerville and some other well-meaning people, I might have starved to death, and my father would not have taken me to heart at all. ”

　　"I have come to you because of my concern with the late Sir Charles Baskerville."

　　Frightened, the woman's face turned pale, and the freckles became more pronounced.

　　"What can I tell you about him?" she asked. Her fingers nervously toyed with the punctuation word keys on her typewriter.

　　"You know him, don't you?"

　　"I've already said that I'm very grateful for his kindness to me. If I can still live on my own, it is mainly because of his concern for my miserable situation. ”

　　"Did you communicate with him by letter?"

　　The lady looked up quickly, her brown eyes glowing with anger.

　　"What is the purpose of these questions, you ask?" She asked sharply.

　　"The aim is to avoid the spread of scandals. It's better for me to ask here than to let things get out and get out of the way. ”

　　She was silent, her face still pale. Finally she looked up with a look of desperation and challenge.

　　"Well, I'll answer," she said, "what's your question?" ”

　　"Did you and Sir Charles pass by letter?"

　　"I did write to him once or twice thanking him for his thoughtfulness and generosity."

　　"Do you remember the date of the letter?"

　　"I don't remember."

　　"Will you meet him?"

　　"It would come over, once or twice when he came to Qom Tracy.

　　He is a very unobtrusive person, and he prefers to do good things in secret. ”

　　"But if you rarely see him and write to him very little, how can he know so much about you that he can help you as much as you say?"

　　She did not hesitate to answer this question, which I thought was difficult to answer.

　　"There were a few gentlemen who knew of my sad experience and together they helped me.

　　One was Mr. Stapleton, a close neighbour and close friend of Sir Charles, and he had a great heart, and it was through him that Sir Charles learned about me. ”

　　I know that Sir Charles Baskerville has invited Stapleton on several occasions to be responsible for distributing the relief money for him, so that the lady's words may sound true.

　　"Have you ever written to Sir Charles asking him to meet you?" I continued to ask.

　　Mrs. Lyons blushed again.

　　"Sir, this is really a question of what it is."

　　"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have to repeat it."

　　"Then I'll answer, it certainly hasn't happened."

　　"Didn't it happen even on the day Sir Charles died?"

　　The red on my face immediately faded, and a dead gray face appeared in front of me. Her scorched lips could no longer tell that the "no" had come. It's not so much that I hear it, but that I see it.

　　"It must have fooled you by your memory," I said, "and I can even recite a passage from your letter that reads: 'You are a gentleman, please burn this letter and go to the gate at ten o'clock.' ’”

　　At the time, I thought she had fainted, but she did her best to regain her composure.

　　"Isn't there a true gentleman in the world?!" Her breathing became rapid.

　　"You have wronged Sir Charles. He had indeed burned the letter, but sometimes it was recognizable even though it was a burned letter. Do you now admit that you wrote this letter? ”

　　"Yes, I wrote it," she shouted, and at the same time gushed out her heart full of thoughts, "I wrote it." Why should I deny this? I had no reason to be ashamed of this, I wished he could help me, and I believed that if I could meet him in person, I might be assisted by him, so I asked him to meet me. ”

　　"But why is it at such a time?"

　　"Because then I just knew he was going to London the next day, and it might be a few months. For other reasons I couldn't get there earlier. ”

　　"But why meet in the garden and not visit inside the house?"

　　"Do you think a woman could go alone to a bachelor's house at that time?"

　　"Oh, what happened after you got there?"

　　"I didn't go."

　　"Mrs. Lyons!"

　　"Without going, I swear to you with everything I consider to be the most sacred. I didn't go. There was one thing that made it impossible for me to go. ”

　　"What's that?"

　　"It's a private matter, I can't say."

　　"You admit, then, that you agreed with Sir Charles to meet at the time and place where he died, but you deny that you kept your promise."

　　"It's true."

　　I interrogated her again and again, but I couldn't ask anything anymore.

　　"Mrs. Lyons," I said at last, at the end of this long and fruitless visit, "because you have not utterly and utterly what you know, you have placed you in grave responsibility and have put yourself in a very dangerous position. If I had to call in the police, you'd know how suspicious you were. If you are innocent, then why did you initially deny that you wrote to Sir Charles on that day? ”

　　"Because I'm afraid I'm going to draw some incorrect conclusions about that issue, then I might be implicated in a scandal."

　　"Then why are you so desperate to ask Sir Charles to destroy your letter?"

　　"If you've read that letter, you should know."

　　"I don't say I've read all the letters."

　　"You quote some of them."

　　"I quoted only the epigraph, and I said that the letter had been burned and not all the letters were recognizable. I also ask you, why are you so desperate to ask Sir Charles to destroy the letter he received on the day of his death? ”

　　"Because it's a purely private affair."

　　"The more important reason is probably that you want to avoid public investigation."

　　"Then I'll tell you, if you've ever heard anything about my miserable experiences, you know that I was hastily married and of course regretted it afterwards."

　　"I've heard a lot."

　　"I live a life of constant persecution from my husband, whom I have hated so much. The law protected him, and every day I faced the possibility of being forced to live with him. As I wrote this letter to Sir Charles, I had heard that if I could pay a sum of money, I might be free again. That's all I wanted —peace of mind, happiness, self-esteem — that's everything. I know sir Charles is generous, and I think he will help me if he hears me tell it himself. ”

　　"Then why didn't you go?"

　　"Because that's when I got help from elsewhere."

　　"Then why didn't you write to Sir Charles explaining the matter?"

　　"If I hadn't seen his bad news in the newspaper the next morning, I would have done so."

　　The woman's narrative was consistent, and I asked all the questions and couldn't find a flaw. I can only investigate whether she did file for divorce with her husband through legal proceedings, at the time of or near the time of the tragedy.

　　It seems that if she had actually been to the Baskerville Estate, I am afraid she would not necessarily dare to say that she had not been. Because she always had to get there in a carriage, she would not be able to return to Qom Tracy until the next morning, so that such a long trip could not be kept secret. So the best possibility is that she's telling the truth, or at least partly telling the truth. I came back with my head down, and this was another encounter with a wall, as if it were being built on every road I wanted to get to my destination through it. But the more I imagined the lady's face and her expression, the more I felt that she still had something to hide from me. Why did her face become so pale? Why did she deny it every time and only admit it when she had to? Why did she remain silent like that when tragedy struck? Of course, Luo's explanation of these problems is not as simple as she explained to me. At present, I can't go any further in this direction, so I have to go to the stone house in the moor to search for other clues.

　　But it was also a very hopeless direction, and I felt it on my way back. I saw mountains after mountains with relics of ancient people's lives. Barrymore merely said that the man lived in one of these abandoned little houses, which were scattered hundreds and thousands throughout the moor. Fortunately, I had seen the man standing on the top of the Black Rock Hill, and I might as well have used this as a clue to use the place where I had seen him as the center of the search. I should start from there and look at every little house in the moor until I find the one I'm looking for. If the man had stayed in the room, I would have asked him to explain for himself who he was and why he had been following us for so long, even forcing him with my pistol if necessary. He might have slipped out of our hands in the crowd of Regent Street, but in such a desert moor, I'm afraid he would feel unsure. But if I find the little room and the man is not there, no matter how long the night it takes, I will wait there until he returns. In London, Holmes let him slip away, and after my master's defeat, if I could find him out, it would be a great victory for me.

　　In our investigation of this case, our luck has been repeatedly bad, but now I have come to work, and the messenger who sent the good luck is none other than Mr. Frankland. He had a gray beard and a rosy face, and was standing at the door of his garden, which opened squarely toward the avenue I was going to walk.

　　"Well, Dr. Watson," he cried with great interest, "you really have to give your horse a break, come in and have a glass of wine and congratulate me." ”

　　After hearing how he treated his daughter, I couldn't really say anything good about him, but I was anxious to send Perskin and the carriage home, and this was indeed a good opportunity. I got out of the car and wrote Sir Henry a note stating that I was going to go back for a walk at dinner. Then I followed Mr. Frankland into his dining room. *

　　"What a great day for me, sir, a great day in my life," he shouted with a grin, "I have closed two cases." I must teach the people here a lesson and let them know that the law is the law. There is even a person here who is not afraid of litigation. I had confirmed that there was a road that ran all the way through the center of the old Midothorn's garden, sir, less than a hundred yards from his front door. How do you feel about this? We really have to teach these big guys a lesson, let them know that they can't trample on the rights of civilians at will, these bastards! I also closed off a grove of woods where the Fernworthy family used to go on a picnic. These lawless people seem to think that property rights do not exist, that they can drill everywhere and throw empty bottles of rotten paper everywhere. Dr. Watson, I won both cases. I haven't had a day like this since Sir John Moran was denounced by me for laying a gun in his own animal farm. ”

　　"How exactly did you accuse him?"

　　"Look at the records, sir. It's worth a look – Frankland vs Morran.

　　high court. The lawsuit cost me two hundred pounds, but I won. ”

　　"What good have you gained?"

　　"Nothing, sir, nothing good is gained. I am proud that I have done these things without the slightest consideration of personal interests.

　　My actions are driven entirely by a sense of social responsibility. I'm sure, for example, that the Fernworthys might have burned me down tonight, and the last time they did, I reported to the police and told them they should stop these shameful acts. It's a shame that the county police station, sir, they didn't give me the protection I deserved. Frankland's lawsuit against the Queen's government soon attracted the attention of society. I told them that they treated me like that and I would regret it one day, and now my words have come true. ”

　　"How can this be?" I asked.

　　The old man put on a very smug expression.

　　"Because I could have told them something they desperately wanted to know, but I wouldn't have done the bad guys anyway."

　　I had been trying to find an excuse to get out and stop listening to his idleness, but now I wanted to listen more. I am well aware of the strange temper of this old absurd ghost, and as soon as you show a strong interest, it will definitely arouse his suspicions and stop talking.

　　"It must be a poaching case, right?" I said with an air of indifference.

　　"Aha, man, it's a much more important thing than that!" What happened to the prisoner in the moor? ”

　　I was taken aback. "Do you know where he is?" I said.

　　"Although I don't know exactly where he is, I know for sure that I can help the police catch him." Didn't you ever think that the way to catch this man was to find out where he got the food and then use this clue to find him? ”

　　Indeed, his words have drawn more and more disturbingly closer to the truth. "Of course, Luo," I said, "but how do you know he is indeed in the moor?" ”

　　"I know, because I've seen the man who brought him food."

　　I take care of my heart for Barrymore. It is a terrible thing to be caught by such a provocative and nosy old man. But his words at the bottom made me feel relieved again.

　　"You'll be surprised when you hear that his food was brought to him by a small child. I saw him every day through that telescope on the roof, and he walked the same path at the same time every day; to whom would he go but to the criminal? ”

　　That's luck! I suppressed all the manifestations of my feelings of interest in this matter. A small child! Barrymore once said that the man we don't know was given to him by a small child. What Frankland found was his clue, not the fugitive's clue. If I could learn what he knew from there, I would save myself the long and exhausting tracking. But, obviously, I must also express my doubts and indifference to this.

　　"I think it's probably the son of a moor shepherd who's bringing food to his father."

　　A slight disagreement can stimulate this old specialist to burst into flames. His eyes looked at me maliciously, and his gray beard stood up like an angry cat.

　　"Really, sir!" He said, while pointing to the vast moor outside, "Do you see that black rocky hill over there?" Ah, do you see the thorny mountains in the distance? That's the rockiest part of the whole moor. Could it be that this is where the shepherds stand? Mr! Your idea is ridiculous. ”

　　I complied and replied that I had said this because I did not know the whole truth. My defeat made him very happy, which made him more willing to say more.

　　"You can be sure, sir, that I have a very good basis in the time I make an affirmative opinion. I've seen the kid holding his roll of things over and over again, once a day, sometimes twice a day, and I can... Wait, Dr. Watson. Is it my blindness, or is there something moving on that hillside right now? ”

　　It was about a few miles away, but against a dark green and gray background, I could clearly see a small black dot.

　　"Come, sir, come!" Frankland shouted as he rushed upstairs, "You can see for yourself and then judge for yourself." ”

　　The telescope was a sprawling instrument mounted on a tripod, placed on a flat lead-plate roof. Frankland narrowed his eyes and let out a cry of satisfaction.

　　"Hurry, Dr. Watson, come on, don't wait for him to cross the mountain!"

　　Really, he was there, a child with a small roll on his shoulder, slowly walking slowly up the hill with great effort. When he reached the highest point, against the backdrop of the dark blue sky, for an instant I saw the unclothed stranger.

　　He looked around sneakily, as if he were afraid of being followed. Then it disappeared on the other side of the mountain.

　　"Ha, am I right?"

　　"Of course, the child seems to have some secret mission."

　　"As for what kind of mission it is, even the police in a county can guess it, but I won't tell them a word, and I ask you to keep it a secret, Dr. Watson." Don't divulge a word, you get it! ”

　　"Just do as you are told."

　　"They treated me too badly — too badly. When Frankland's case against the Queen's Government is made public, I dare say that the whole nation will be outraged. In any case, I will not help the police. They were in charge of me, not the straw man who symbolized me and was burned by this group of hooligans tied to a pillar. You don't want to go wow! You've got to help me drink this bottle dry to celebrate this great victory! ”

　　I refused all his pleas and succeeded in dispelling his idea of accompanying me home for a walk. When he saw me, I kept walking along the main road, and then I suddenly left the avenue and crossed the moor toward the hill where the child had disappeared. Everything went well with me, and I swear that I would never miss the opportunity that the God of Fate had given me because of my lack of spirit and perseverance.

　　By the time I reached the top of the mountain, the sun was about to set, and the sunny side of the slope beneath me turned golden green, while the other side was completely shrouded in gray shadows. In the far skyline, there is a faint twilight, and in the twilight stands out the strangely shaped Bellifer and Vixen Rocks. On the boundless earth, there is no movement. A grey goose, perhaps a seagull or sandpiper, soars high in the blue sky. Between the vast expanse of the firmament and the barren earth below, it and I seem to be the only creatures here. The scenery of the desert, the feeling of loneliness and my mysterious and urgent mission made me shiver. I couldn't see the child anywhere, but in a ravine below me there were some old stone houses in circles, and in the middle there was a roof that protected people from the sun and rain. As soon as I saw it, my heart skipped a beat, and this must have been where the man was hiding. My feet finally stepped on the threshold of his hiding place—his secret could be caught by me.

　　As I slowly approached the hut, I walked cautiously and cautiously, as if Stapleton were slowly approaching a settled butterfly holding aloft a butterfly net. I am deeply satisfied that this place was indeed used as a place of residence. There was a looming path between the rocks that led to the tattered opening that was about to collapse as a door. The unknown man may be hiding there, or wandering around in the moor. The feeling of adventure excited my nerves, and I tossed my cigarette butt aside, touched the hilt of my revolver with my hand, and walked quickly to the door, where I looked inside, empty.

　　But there are many indications that I didn't look in the wrong place. This must be where the man lives. A rain cloth wrapped in several blankets was placed on the same stone slab on which Neolithic people once slept, and in a crude stone frame there was a pile of burned ashes, next to some kitchen utensils and half a bucket of water. A mess of empty canned boxes showed that the man had been living in the room for some time. When my eyes were accustomed to the chaotic sunlight shining through the leaves, I saw a small metal glass and half a bottle of wine in the corner of the house. In the center of the hut there was a flat stone that had been used as a table, and on it there was a small cloth bag—no doubt the roll on the shoulder of the child I had seen through the telescope. Inside was a loaf of bread, a cow's tongue and two canned peaches. When I put it down again after examining it, my heart skipped a beat, because I saw that there was a piece of paper with writing written on it underneath.

　　I picked it up, scrawled with a pencil: "Dr. Watson was there in Combe Tracy. ”

　　I held the piece of paper in my hand and stood there for a full minute, thinking about the meaning of the text message. Then the man who said the secret was not following Sir Henry but me. Instead of personally following me, he sent someone—maybe the kid—to follow me, and that was the report he had written.

　　Probably not a single step since I got to the moor has not been seen and reported by him. I always felt an invisible force, like a dense web, encircling us with great ingenuity, holding us so loosely, so that at an extremely critical juncture, we would know that we were really entangled in the net.

　　Now that I had a report, it might still be there, so I searched around the house. But there was no trace, and no signs were found that were sufficient to explain the characteristics and intentions of the people who lived in this strange place. Only one thing is certain, he must have had a Spartan habit of not caring much about the comforts of life.

　　I looked at the open roof, and thought about the pouring rain that day, and I understood more deeply how determined his will to achieve his goal was, and it was because of this will that he was able to live in such an uncomfortable place.

　　Is he really our vicious enemy, or does he happen to be the angel who protects us?

　　I made up my mind that I would never leave the hut without knowing everything.

　　Outside, the sun was already setting low, the west was glowing with fiery red and golden afterglow, and the skylight illuminated the puddles of water scattered in the large mud of the Green Basin in the distance, reflecting the red light of the flakes. Over there you can see the two towers of the Baskerville Estate, and there is a hazy smoke in the distance, indicating that it is the village of Green Basin, and in the middle of these two places, behind the hill is the House of the Stapleton family. In the evening golden afterglow, everything seemed so beautiful, intoxicating and idyllic. But when I saw this view, my heart not only did not feel the tranquility of nature at all, but also trembled with confusion and fear caused by the approaching meeting. My nerves were throbbing, but determined, and I sat patiently in the darkness of the hut, patiently waiting for the arrival of the owner.

　　Later, I finally heard him coming, and in the distance came the sound of leather shoes walking on the stones, and I got closer and closer step by step. I retreated to the darkest corner of the room, pulled the revolver in my pocket with my hand, and decided not to show myself until I could see the man. The sound stopped for a long time, indicating that he had stopped; then the footsteps came forward again, and a black shadow was projected through the opening of the stone house.

　　"What a lovely evening, my dear Watson," said a very familiar voice, "I really think it is much more comfortable for you to come outside than to stay inside." ”

　　Chapter 12: The Tragedy of the Moor

　　I sat there holding my breath for a minute or two, unable to believe my ears. Later, my mind was clear and I was able to speak, and at the same time the extremely heavy responsibility seemed to be immediately removed from my heart. For that cold, sharp and mocking voice could only belong to that person.

　　"Sherlock Holmes!" I shouted, "Holmes! ”

　　"Come out!" He said, "Watch out for your revolver." ”

　　I arched under the rough door frame and saw him sitting on a rock outside. When he saw my surprised expression, his gray eyes turned with delight. He looked thin and dark, but sober and alert, his clever face brown from the sun and roughened by the wind and sand. He was dressed in Scottish clothes and a cloth hat, and looked exactly like anyone who traveled on the moor, and he could still care for his personal cleanliness like a cat, which was a characteristic of him, his chin was still shaved, and his clothes were as clean as when he lived on Baker Street.

　　"In my life, I have never lived faster than ever because I saw anyone." I shook his hand as I spoke.

　　"Or more surprising than that, huh?"

　　"Oh, I have to admit it."

　　"It's not just a one-sided surprise. I tell you, I really didn't expect you to find my temporary hiding place, and I didn't think you were already hiding in the house until I was less than twenty steps from this door. ”

　　"I guess it's because of my footprints?"

　　"No, Watson, I'm afraid I can't guarantee that I can recognize your footprints from the footprints of the whole world." If you really want to fool me, you have to change your paper cigarettes, because as soon as I saw the cigarette butt printed 'Bradley, Oxford Street', I knew that my friend Watson must be nearby. You can still find it on the side of the path. There is no doubt that you threw it away at the critical moment when you rushed into the empty house. ”

　　"Exactly."

　　"I thought of this, and knowing your admirable, tenacious character, I knew you were sitting in the dark, holding your pistol in your hand, waiting for the owner of the house to return. Do you really think I'm the fugitive? ”

　　"I don't know who you are, but I'm determined to figure that out."

　　"Great, Watson! How do you know where I am? Maybe on the night of the fugitive capture, I accidentally stood in front of the rising moon and was seen by you? ”

　　"By the way, I saw you that time."

　　"You must have searched all the huts before you found this stone house, right?"

　　"No, I saw the kid you hired, and he pointed me in the direction of my search."

　　"I saw it from the old gentleman who had a telescope." When I first saw the flashing reflections on that lens, I couldn't figure out what it was. He stood up and glanced into the hut, "Ha, catale has brought me something to eat again, what is this piece of paper?" Turns out you've been to Combe Tracy, haven't you? ”

　　"That's right."

　　"Go find Mrs. Laura Lyons?"

　　"That's it."

　　"Well done! Obviously, the direction of our research is the same, and I hope that when the results of our research are put together, we will have a fuller understanding of this case. ”

　　"Hey, I'm happy to be here, and my nerves can't stand the gravity of the blame and the mystery of the case." But how did you get here? What are you doing? I thought you were working on the anonymous threatening letter case on Baker Street. ”

　　"I want you to think that."

　　"It turns out that you used me, but you didn't trust me!" I cried out angrily and annoyedly, "I don't think I should have been here in your eyes, Holmes. ”

　　"My dear companion, in this case, as in many other cases, your help to me is immeasurable, and if it seems that I have played any trick on you, then please forgive me. In fact, part of the reason I wanted to do this was for your sake, and it was precisely because I realized the danger you were taking that I came here to investigate this matter myself. If I and you —

　　If Sir Henry and you are together, I am sure that your opinion must be the same as mine, and as soon as I come forward, it will be tantamount to warning our opponents to be more careful. In fact, I have always been able to move freely, and if I lived on the estate, it would not have been possible. I made myself an unknown role in this matter, ready to give my all in a pinch. ”

　　"But why keep me in the dark?"

　　"Because it doesn't help us to let you know, and maybe it will make me discovered." You're bound to try to tell me something, or be kind enough to send me something to apply, so that we're going to take unnecessary risks. I brought Catale with me—you must remember the little guy at the helper's agency—and he took care of some of my simple needs: a loaf of bread and a clean hard collar. What else does one need? He added me a pair of diligent feet and an extra pair of eyes, both of which were priceless to me. ”

　　"Then, I am afraid that the reports I wrote will be in vain!" I think back to the hard work I felt when I wrote those reports and the pride of the time, and my tone of voice trembled.

　　Holmes took a roll of paper from his pocket.

　　"This is your report, my dear companion, and it has been read over and over again, I assure you. I arranged it so well that it was only delayed for a day on the way. I must pay the highest tribute to you for the enthusiasm and wisdom with which you have worked on this extremely difficult case. ”

　　I was still very uncomfortable because I had been fooled, but the warmth of Holmes's words of praise drove away the anger in my heart. I also felt in my heart that he was right, that it would be best to achieve our goal, and that I should not have known that he had come to the moor.

　　"That's fine," he said, after seeing that the shadow had disappeared from my face, "now tell me the results of your visit to Mrs. Laura Lyons." It's not hard for me to imagine that you went there to find her, because I already knew that in the place of Qom Tracy she was the only one who could help us in this matter. Seriously, if you don't go today, chances are I'm going tomorrow. ”

　　The sun had set and twilight hung over the entire moor. The air had become cold, so we retreated into the hut to warm up. We sat together in the twilight, and I told Holmes what I had spoken to the lady. He was very interested, and I had to repeat some parts twice before he was satisfied.

　　"It's very important," he said when I was done, "and it fills in the gap that I cannot connect with in this most complicated matter." Perhaps you already know that there is a very close relationship between this lady and Mr. Stapleton? ”

　　"I didn't know about this intimate relationship!"

　　"There is no doubt about it. They often meet, communicate, and know each other very well. Now, this has given us an extra powerful weapon. As long as we use this to divide his wife..."

　　"His wife?!"

　　"I will now offer you something to reward you for all that you have provided for me.

　　The lady who was called Miss Stapleton here was actually his wife. ”

　　"Oh my God, Holmes! What are you talking about?! How could he have made Sir Henry fall in love with her again? ”

　　"Sir Henry's fall into love will do no harm to anyone but Sir Henry himself. He had taken special care to avoid Sir Henry's courtship of her, as you could see with your own eyes. I repeat, that lady was his wife, not his sister. ”

　　"But why did he engage in this painstaking deception?"

　　"Because he had already seen it, it would be much more useful for him to have her dressed as an unmarried woman."

　　All my guesses, my vague suspicions, suddenly became concrete, and they all focused on biologists. In this man in a straw hat and a butterfly net, who lacked enthusiasm and character, I seemed to see something terrible—infinite patience and cunning, a pretentious smile, and a vicious heart.

　　"So our enemy is Ta Luo, and it is Ta Luo who follows us in London?"

　　"That's how I saw through the mystery."

　　"That warning must have been her?"

　　A terrible crime that had been haunting me for a long time, as if it were nothing, half conjecture, had loomed in the darkness.

　　"But are you sure of that, Holmes?" How do you know that the woman is his wife? ”

　　"Because when he first met you, he involuntarily told you the real thing about his life." I dare say that since then he has regretted it more than once. He had once been a principal of primary schools in the north of England, and now there is no easier way to be investigated than a small school principal, through the educational apparatus to find out anyone who has worked in the field of education. I did a little research to find out that there had been an elementary school that had collapsed under very bad circumstances, and that the owner of the school, whose name was not the same—

　　And his wife are gone. Their physical characteristics are consistent with what we see here. When I learned that the missing man was equally passionate about entomology, the work of identifying the characters was completely over. ”

　　The dark curtain has gradually been revealed, but most of the truth is still hidden.

　　"If this woman is really his wife, then how can another Mrs. Laura Lyons be inserted?" I asked.

　　"This is one of all the problems that has been revealed by your probing work. Your visit to that lady has made the situation much clearer.

　　I hadn't heard of her and her husband wanting a divorce. If she had planned a divorce and treated Stapleton as an unmarried man, she would no doubt have thought of becoming his wife. ”

　　"But what if she figured out the deception?"

　　"Ah, then this lady might be useful to us." Of course, we should go to her first—the two of us will go tomorrow. Watson, don't you think you've been away from your duties for too long? You were supposed to be staying at baskerville manor. ”

　　The last rays of sunset also disappeared in the west, and night descended on the moor. In the purple sky, there were a few stars that were half bright and half dark.

　　"And one last question, Holmes," I said as I stood up, "of course there is no need to keep any secret between you and me. What does he mean by that? What is its purpose? ”

　　Holmes lowered his voice as he replied: "This is murder, Watson, a deliberate and cruel murder.

　　Stop asking me for details. Just as his net surrounded Sir Henry, my net was tightly covering him, and with your help, he was almost in my pocket. There is only one danger left for us to fear, and that is that he may strike before we act. In one more day—two days at most—I will have finished the preparations for solving the case; until then, you will have to look at the person you protect as closely as a deeply affectionate mother guarding her sick child. It turns out that what you did today was the right thing to do, but I still hope that you are better off not leaving his side. listen! ”

　　A terrible scream—a barrage of fear and angry shouts—broke through the silence on the moor. The terrible cry made the blood in my veins almost coagulate.

　　"Oh, my God!" I gasped, "What is this?" What does that mean? ”

　　Holmes stood up suddenly, and I saw his black, athletic-like body standing in the doorway of the small room, his shoulders drooping, his head sticking forward, looking into the darkness.

　　"Shhh!" He whispered, "Don't make a sound. ”

　　Because of the urgency of the situation, the shout was loud, and at first it came from a great distance on the dark plain. The sound that now rushed into our ear drums was getting closer, louder, more urgent than ever.

　　"Which side?" Holmes asked in a low voice. In the excited voice of someone as strong as he was, I knew he was also deeply shocked, "Which side is it, Watson?" ”

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

　　"No, it's over there."

　　The cry of pain resounded through the silent night, getting louder and closer than before. Mixed together there was a new sound, a deep grunt, a pleasant and terrible sound, falling together, like the never-ending groan of the sea.

　　"It's a hound!" Holmes cried out, "Come, Watson! Come on. Oh, my God! Maybe we're too late! ”

　　He immediately ran quickly on the moor, and I followed him closely. But suddenly, right in front of us, there was a final scream of despair from the jagged and uneven patch of rubble, followed by a vague and heavy grunt. We stood and listened, and there was no other sound to break the dead silence of the windless night.

　　I saw Holmes press his hand on his forehead like a deranged man and stomp his feet.

　　"He's already beaten us, Watson. We came too late. ”

　　"No, no, definitely not."

　　"I'm such an idiot that I didn't take action, and you, Watson, now understand what the consequences of letting go of the people you are supposed to protect don't matter!" Oh, my God! If misfortune finally happens, then we will have to take revenge on him. ”

　　We ran forward in the darkness, bumping into the rocks from time to time, squeezing barely through the plantagenet bushes, running up the hill out of breath, and then rushing down another slope, all the way in the direction where the terrible sound came from. Every time he went up, Holmes looked anxiously around, but the moor was unusually dark, and nothing was moving on the desolate ground.

　　"Did you see anything?"

　　"Nothing was seen."

　　"But what do you hear that sound?"

　　A low moan came into our eardrums, and it was on our left side again!

　　There is a rock ridge on that side, and at the end is a cliff that goes straight up and down, and from there, you can see a rocky hillside. On the uneven ground, there was a pile of black rumbling, irregularly shaped objects. As we ran closer to it, the blurred outline became clear. It turned out to be a man lying on the ground, his head horribly nestled under his body, his body curled up inwards, as if he were going to turn over and fight. His appearance was so special that I couldn't believe it at the time, and the sound I had just heard was coming from the shell of his soul. The man we bent over looking at didn't say a word or move. Holmes grabbed him and lifted him up, screaming in horror. He drew a match, and the light shone on the dead man's fingers clasped together, and also on the slowly expanding pool of blood flowing from his broken skull. The light of the fire also illuminated another thing that made us almost faint in pain—it was the corpse of Sir Henry Baskerville!

　　Neither of us could have forgotten the special, red, Scottish tweed dress—the same one I saw him on Baker Street the first morning. We only glanced at it clearly, and the match flickered and then extinguished, as if hope had left our souls. Holmes groaned, and his pale face could be seen in the darkness.

　　"This beast! brute! I clenched my fists and shouted, "Holmes, I can never forgive myself, I left his side, so that he was doomed." ”

　　"I'm worse than your sins, Watson. In order to make preparations for solving the case from all aspects, I actually gave up the life of our entrusted person. In my life's career, this is the biggest blow I have ever suffered. But how would I know—how could I know—that he had risked his life alone and run into the moor, in spite of all my warnings? ”

　　"We heard his cry—oh my God, that cry! But I couldn't save him! Where was the hound who put him to death? Now it may be spinning around between rocks. And Stapleton, where is he? He must be responsible for this. ”

　　"Of course he's in charge. I promise to put him in charge. Both nephews had been killed—one was scared to death at the sight of the beast he thought was a demon; the other had fled away but had not been spared death. Now we have to try to prove the relationship between this man and the animal. If we hadn't heard the voice, we wouldn't have believed the beast's existence, for Sir Henry had obviously fallen to his death. But, God is on top, no matter how cunning he is, tomorrow, I will catch this guy! ”

　　We stood on either side of this flesh-and-blood corpse in sorrow, and our long period of toiling and toiling had ended up with such a pitiful result, this sudden and irreparable disaster, that our hearts felt extremely heavy. Later, after the moon had risen, we climbed up to the highest point of the rock where our poor friend had fallen, and from the top of the hill we looked into the dark moor. There was a silvery white glow in the darkness, and a few miles away, in the direction of the Grimm Basin, there was a single yellow fire shining, which could only be the lonely house from the Stapleton family. I looked forward, fisted furiously at it, and cursed fiercely.

　　"Why don't we catch him right away?"

　　"The conditions for us to solve the case are not yet ripe, the guy is careful and cunning to the extreme; the question is not how much we have learned, but what we can prove." As long as we take the wrong step, the villain may slip away from us. ”

　　"So, what do we do?"

　　"Tomorrow we have something to do, and tonight we will have to do the aftermath for our poor friend."

　　The two of us descended the steep slope together and walked toward the corpse, the black body could be seen clearly on the stone reflecting the silver light; the painful look of the twisted limbs made me feel sad, and the tears blurred my eyes.

　　"We have to find someone to help, Holmes!" We can't carry him all the way to the manor..." Before I could finish my words, I heard him shout and bend down next to the corpse. I couldn't help but shout, "Oh my God, are you crazy!" Holmes danced, laughing and grabbing my hand and shaking it. Is this my serious and self-sustaining friend? This is really a suffocating fire! *

　　"Beard! beard! This man has a beard! ”

　　"Bearded?"

　　"This is not a baronet—this is—ah, this is my neighbor, the fugitive!"

　　I quickly turned the dead body over, and the dripping beard was tilted toward the cold and clear moon. It would be no mistake to look at his protruding forehead and beastly sunken eyes, the face that shone before my eyes from behind the stones in the candlelight that day—the face of the fugitive Seldan.

　　I understood at once, and I remembered what the Baronet had told me that he had given his old clothes to Barrymore. Barrymore transferred the clothes out to help Serdan escape, boots, shirts, hats—all of Sir Henry's. This tragedy was tragic enough, but according to the laws of the country, this person at least died unjustly. I told Holmes the reason for the incident, and my gratitude to God and the joy of my heart made my blood boil.

　　"Well, this garment is the cause of the villain's death," he said, "and the problem is clear, that the hound was released for stalking after smelling what Sir Henry was wearing—most likely the tall leather shoe that had been stolen from the hotel—and thus the man was chased until he fell to his death."

　　But one thing was very strange: how could Seldan know in the darkness that the dog was following him? ”

　　"He heard it."

　　"Merely hearing the sound of a hunting dog in the moor would never frighten a man as cruel as this fugitive to such an extent, or even risk being arrested again and crying out for help." Judging by his shouting, after he knew that the dog was chasing him, he must have run a long way with all his might. How did he know? ”

　　"Another thing that I find particularly mysterious, if our reasoning is entirely correct, then why is this dog..."

　　"I don't want to speculate on anything."

　　"Ah, then why was this dog released tonight alone?" I don't think that dog was left on the moor forever to run around. Unless there is a reason to think that Sir Henry will go there, Stapleton will not let it out. ”

　　"Of the two problems, my difficulty is the more troublesome one, and I think that your question will soon be answered, but my question may always be a mystery." The question at hand is: what do we do with the corpse of this poor villain? We can't put him here to feed the foxes and crows!" ”

　　"I suggest putting him in a cabin before we get in touch with the police."

　　"Yes, I believe you and I can lift him. Ah, Watson, what's going on? It was he who was truly bold! Don't say a word of doubt, don't say a word, or my whole plan will be finished. ”

　　On the moor, a man was walking toward us, and I saw a faint cigar firework. The moonlight shone on him, and I could see the biologist's short, lean figure and brisk steps. He stopped as soon as he saw us, and then walked forward again.

　　"Ah, Dr. Watson, it won't be you, will it?" I never imagined seeing you on the moor in the middle of the night like this. Oh my God, what's going on? Did anyone get hurt? No—don't tell me this is our friend Sir Henry! He hurried over to our side and bent down beside the dead man. I heard him take a sharp breath, and the cigar between his fingers fell.

　　"Who, who is this?" He stuttered.

　　"It was Seldan, the man who escaped from Prince town."

　　Staple turned to us, pale, but with great effort he restrained his panicked and disappointed expression. He stared dead at Holmes and me.

　　"Oh my God! What an amazing thing! How did he die? ”

　　It looked as if he had broken his neck on these rocks. When we heard the shouts, my friend and I were walking in the moor. ”

　　"I also heard shouts, so I ran out, and I was worried about Sir Henry."

　　"Why worry only for Sir Henry?" I couldn't help but ask.

　　"I was taken aback because I had asked him to come, but he didn't come, so when I heard the shouts in the moor, of course I was panicked for his safety." His gaze turned again from my face to Holmes, "Apart from that shout, what other sounds did you hear?" ”

　　"Nothing." Holmes said, "What about you? ”

　　"Nothing."

　　"So what do you mean by that?"

　　"Ah, you always know the stories of the peasants about the ghostly dog and so on, which are said to be audible in the moor at night. I was wondering if it was possible to hear such a sound tonight. ”

　　"We don't hear that kind of voice." I said.

　　"But how do you think this poor fellow died?"

　　"I'm sure the anxiety and the long hours of living outside have driven him crazy. He must have been running wildly in the moor, and eventually he fell here and broke his neck. ”

　　"It seems like that's the most plausible statement," Stapleton said, sighing as well. In my opinion, this means that he has relaxed his mind, "What do you think, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" ”

　　My friend owes a debt of gratitude.

　　"You recognize people really quickly." he said.

　　"Ever since Dr. Watson arrived, people here have known you'll be here too.

　　You caught up with this tragedy. ”

　　"Yes, indeed, I am sure that my friend's explanation sums up the whole truth. I'm going back to London tomorrow with an unpleasant memory. ”

　　"Oh, will you go back tomorrow?"

　　"That's how I intended it."

　　"I hope that your visit will somewhat bring out some of these things that we are so puzzled about."

　　Holmes shrugged.

　　"People don't always succeed according to their subjective wishes. Those in charge of the investigation need facts rather than legends and rumors. The case was not satisfactorily handled. ”

　　My friend spoke in his most frank and careless manner. Stapleton stared at him deadly, and then he turned to me again.

　　"I would have suggested that this poor fellow be brought to my house, but he would have frightened my sister so much that I thought it would be better not to do so." I thought it would be safe to cover his head with something, and I'd think of a way to do it tomorrow morning. ”

　　That's how things are arranged. Holmes and I declined Step's kind offer and went to the Baskerville Manor, leaving the biologist alone. We looked back and saw that the shadow was still slowly moving off into the distance on the vast moor; behind him there was a black dot on the hillside of the white flower, marking the place where the man who had come to such a terrible end lay.

　　Chapter XIII Setting Up Networks

　　"We're finally going to catch him," said Holmes as we walked across the moor together, "and this guy's nerves are strong enough!" How calm he was when he discovered that his plot had killed people by mistake, and was faced with a situation that should have been utterly shocking. I told you in London, Watson, and I'm going to tell you now that we've never met an opponent more worthy of fighting than him. ”

　　"I'm sorry he saw you."

　　"I felt the same way at first, but there was nothing I could do about it."

　　"Now that he knows you're here, what do you think will happen to his plans?"

　　"It might make him more cautious, maybe it would make him take reckless measures right away." Like most criminals who are a little clever, he may believe too much in his own little cleverness and imagine that he has completely deceived us. ”

　　"Why don't we arrest him right away?"

　　"My dear Watson, you are by nature a man who is anxious to act, and your instincts always prompt you to do something with pleasure. Let's talk, suppose we arrest him tonight, but what good is it for us to do that? We can't prove anything against him. There is a devil-like cunning here, and if he is acting through a man, we can find some evidence, but if we pull out this big dog in broad daylight, it will not help our plan to put a rope around its owner's neck. ”

　　"Of course we have proof."

　　"There's not even a shadow—our evidence is just speculation and conjecture." If all we have is such a story and such 'evidence', then we will be laughed out of the courtroom. ”

　　"Isn't Sir Charles's death proof?"

　　"He died without any wounds, though you and I both know that he was completely scared to death, and we know what scared him to death." But how can we make the twelve jurors believe this too? Where is the trace of the hound dog, where is the trace of its dog's teeth? We know, of course, that hounds do not bite dead bodies, and that Sir Charles died before the beast catches up with him. We have to prove all these things, but we can't do it now. ”

　　"So, can't tonight's events prove it?"

　　"Tonight, our situation is not much better. Again, as was the case last time, there was no direct connection between the hound and the man's death. We didn't see the hound, and though we heard it, it didn't prove that it was just following the man, and there was no reason for it. No, dear partner, we must acknowledge the fact that we have not yet reached a complete and reasonable conclusion about the whole case, and any risky action that can reach a reasonable conclusion is worth doing. ”

　　"What do you think should be done?"

　　"I have great hopes for the help Mrs. Laura Lyons can give us, just tell her the truth. I also have my own plans.

　　Today is good today, why worry about tomorrow? But I hope tomorrow I will have the upper hand. ”

　　I could no longer ask anything from his mouth, and before reaching the gates of the Baskerville Manor, he walked and indulged in meditation.

　　"Are you going in too?"

　　"Well, I don't see any reason to hide anymore. But there's one last word, Watson. Don't talk to Sir Henry about the hound, let him think of Seldan's death as what Stepton wanted us to believe. In this way, he will be able to meet the suffering that he will have to endure tomorrow with a stronger nerve. If I remember your report correctly, they have made an appointment to go to Stapleton's house for dinner tomorrow. ”

　　"They made an appointment with me too."

　　"Well, you must have an excuse to refuse, he must go alone, then it will be easy to arrange." Now, if it's past dinner time, I think we can both have a late-night snack. ”

　　Sir Henry was not so much surprised as pleased to see Sherlock Holmes, for he had been waiting for several days, hoping that recent events would prompt him to come here from London. However, when he found out that my friend had neither any luggage nor an explanation for the reason for not carrying it, he did express his suspicions. Soon we gave him what he needed, and in the middle of the late supper we told him as much as possible what it seemed to the baronet to know in our encounter. In addition, I took on the unpleasant responsibility of revealing this news to the Barrymores. To Barrymore, this may have been a great comfort, but after she heard it, she grabbed her apron and cried bitterly. To the people of the whole world, he was a fierce, half beast and half devil, but in her mind he would always be the wayward child who was with her when she was a child, clutching her hand. This man was so sinful that he died without a woman crying at him.

　　"Ever since Watson went out in the morning, I've been sullen all day at home," said the baronet," said the baronet, "and I think I still deserve praise because I kept my word." If I hadn't sworn never to go out alone, maybe I'd be able to have a pleasant night, because I've received a letter from Staple asking me to come to him. ”

　　"I am sure that if you did go, you would indeed have a more pleasant night," said Holmes coldly, "but we have been greatly saddened that you have broken your neck, and I don't think you will be happy to know this, will you?" ”

　　Sir Henry's eyes widened in surprise and he asked, "What's going on?" ”

　　"That poor bastard is wearing your clothes, and I am afraid that your servant gave it to him." Maybe the police will come to him for trouble. ”

　　"I'm afraid not, as far as I know, there is no mark on those clothes."

　　"Then he is really lucky—in fact you are all lucky, because in this matter, as far as the law is concerned, you have all sinned. As an impartial detective, I am almost certain that my responsibility is first and foremost to arrest your entire family. Watson's report is the most powerful proof of your condemnation. ”

　　"But what happened to our case?" The Baronet asked, "In this mess, have you touched any clues?" I don't think Watson and I have been very smart since we got here. ”

　　"I think it won't be long before I can get a clearer picture of the situation. This is truly an extremely difficult and complex case, and there are still a few points that we cannot understand — but will soon be. ”

　　"We met once, and Watson must have told you that long ago. We heard the barking of the hounds in the moor, so I swear it was by no means all nonsense superstition. When I was in the Western Americas, I fiddled with dogs for a while, and I knew it when I heard it. If you could put a cage and chains on this dog, I would swear to admit that you are a great detective like never before. ”

　　"I think if you can help, I'll be able to put a cage and chains on it."

　　"Whatever you ask me to do, I'll do it."

　　"Well, I have to ask you to do it blindly, and don't always ask why, why."

　　"Just listen to you."

　　"If you do, I think our little problem will be solved soon." I'm sure—"

　　He suddenly stopped speaking and stared intently at the place above my head. The light shone on his face, so attentive, so quiet, almost like a typical silhouette of ancient times—the embodiment of alertness and hope.

　　"What?" We both stood up.

　　When he looked at the two eyes, I could tell that he was suppressing his inner excitement. Although his expression was still calm, his eyes shone with ecstasy.

　　"Forgive the connoisseur's appreciation." As he spoke, he waved to a row of portraits hanging on the opposite wall, "Watson will not admit that I know any art, but it is nothing more than jealousy, because we always have different views on a work." Ah, these portraits are so well drawn. ”

　　"Oh, I am glad that you say this," said Sir Henry, looking at my friend with a look of amazement, "and I dare not pretend to be an expert in these things. I've gotten a lot more about horses or castrated cows than I would about a painting. I really don't know you'll have time to do all this. ”

　　"The good thing is that I can see it at a glance, and I can see it now." I swear it was a picture of Neller [Neller: a famous German portrait painter (1646-1723) living in London. The portrait is of the woman in blue silk over there, and the fat gentleman in the wig must be from Reynolds [Reynolds: The famous English portrait painter (1723-1792).] —Translator's Note]. I guess these are portraits of your family, right? ”

　　"All of them."

　　"Do you know the name?"

　　"Barrymore once told me in detail that I thought I could still memorize well."

　　"Who is the gentleman with the telescope?"

　　"That was Rear Admiral Baskerville, who served under Rodney in the West Indies. Dressed in blue and holding a roll of paper, it was Sir William Baskerville, who chaired the House of Commons committees during Pitt's tenure as Prime Minister. ”

　　"And the knight across from me—the one in the black velvet cloak and the ribbon?"

　　"Ah, you must know him—the poor quality of the cultivator, he is the source of all misfortune, and the legend of the hounds of the Baskervilles begins with him. We will not forget him. ”

　　I was also interested and looked at the portrait with some surprise.

　　"Oh my God!" Holmes said, "It seems that he is indeed like a man of peace and gentleness, but I dare say that in his eyes there is a perverse spirit." I had imagined him as a much rougher and more ferocious man than that. ”

　　"The authenticity of this portrait is indisputable, as the back of the canvas also bears the name and age '1647.'"

　　Holmes did not say anything more, but the old drunkard's portrait seemed to have a magical effect on him, and his eyes kept staring at the portrait while eating supper. It was only later, when Sir Henry went back to his room, that I was able to get his idea. He led me back to the banquet hall, holding the candle of the dormitory in his hand, holding it high, and illuminating the portrait hanging on the wall that had been dull because of its age.

　　"Can you see anything in the portrait?"

　　I looked at the wide-brimmed hat with feathers, the curly hair tassels on the forehead, the collar with white lace, and the serious face in the middle of these foils. Although it is not violent, it is also rude, cold and severe, with thin lips, a tight mouth, and a pair of eyes that appear cold and stubborn.

　　"Is it like someone you know?"

　　"The chin is a bit like Sir Henry's."

　　"Maybe a little bit. Wait a minute! He stood in a chair, holding up the candle in his left hand, and bent his right arm to cover the wide-brimmed hat and the long sagging curls of hair.

　　"Oh my God!" I cried out in amazement.

　　It was as if Stapleton's face had jumped out of the painting.

　　"Haha, you see it. My eyes are trained to examine my appearance without being blinded by accessory ornaments. This is the primary characteristic of criminal investigators and should be able to see through any disguise. ”

　　"It's so wonderful, maybe this is his portrait."

　　"Yes, this is an interesting example of atavistic inheritance, and it is manifested in both physical and spiritual terms. Studying family portraits is enough to convince one that reincarnation in future lives is a human being. Obviously, this guy was a descendant of the Baskerville family. ”

　　"There is also a conspiracy to usurp the right to inherit property."

　　Indeed, this portrait also happens to give us a clue that is clearly the most urgently needed. We've caught him, Watson, we've caught him. I swear he will flap his wings in our nets like a butterfly he himself caught before tomorrow night. With a needle, a piece of cork and a card, we can put him in the specimen showroom on Baker Street! ”

　　When he left the portrait, he suddenly let out a laugh that was rare. I don't often hear him laugh, and as long as he laughs, it always means that someone is going to be unlucky.

　　I got up early the next morning, but Holmes was earlier than I was, for I saw him coming back from outside along the driveway while I was getting dressed.

　　Ah, we've got to him for a day today! He said, rubbing his hands with joy before the action, "The net is all down, and it looks like it's going to be pulled back." Today we can see whether we caught the big barracuda with the sharp mouth or whether it slipped through our nets. ”

　　"Have you been to the moor?"

　　"I have sent a report from Green Basin about Seldan's death to Prince's Town. I think I can make a promise that none of you will ever get into trouble again because of this. I also made contact with my faithful Carterley, who, if I did not let him know that I was safe and sound, would surely languish like a dog guarding the grave of his master at the door of my hut. ”

　　"What's next?"

　　"Then you'll have to consult sir Henry." Ah, here he comes! ”

　　"Good morning, Holmes," said the Baronet, "you appear to be a general who is planning a campaign with the Chief of Staff. ”

　　"Exactly. Watson was asking me for orders. ”

　　"I'm here to hear the dispatches, too."

　　"Very well, as far as I know, you were asked to dinner at our friend Stapleton's house tonight, right?"

　　"I hope you go too. They are hospitable, and I dare say they will be happy to see you. ”

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

　　"Going to London?"

　　"Yes, I think it would be much more useful for us to go to London at this time than it would be to be here."

　　It could be seen that the baronet's face showed an unhappy look.

　　"I hope you'll watch me get through this. It is not a pleasure to live alone in this manor and in this moor. ”

　　"My dear partner, you must trust me completely and do exactly what I have told you to do. You can tell our friends that we would have preferred to go with you, but there was an urgent matter that demanded that we must go back to town.

　　We hope to return to Devon soon. Can you bring this message to them? ”

　　"If you insist on that."

　　"That's all there is to it, I'll tell you for sure."

　　I could tell from the baronet's furrowed brow that he was deeply displeased that we had abandoned him.

　　"When do you want to leave?" He asked in a cold tone.

　　"Left immediately after breakfast. We're going to take the bus to Combe Tracy first, but Watson left all his luggage and miscellaneous things behind as a guarantee that he'll still be back to you. Watson, you should write a letter to Stapleton stating that you can't go to the appointment and apologize to him. ”

　　"I really want to go to London with you." The baronet said, "Why should I stay here alone?" ”

　　"Because that's where your responsibility lies. You promised me that you would do whatever you wanted, so I let you stay here. ”

　　"Well, okay, I'll stay."

　　"One more request to you, I want you to take a carriage to the Mellippi Mansion, and then send your carriage back to let them know that you intend to walk home."

　　"Walking through the moor?"

　　"But that's exactly what you always tell me not to do!"

　　"This time you do it, to keep it safe. If I didn't have complete trust in your nerves and courage, I wouldn't have made such a suggestion. You have to do that. ”

　　"Well, I'll do it."

　　"If you value your life, when crossing the moor, don't go in any other direction than the straight road from the Mellippi Mansion to the Green Basin Road, which is the only way to go home."

　　"I'll do what you say."

　　"It was good. I'd rather leave as quickly as I can after breakfast so that I can get to London in the afternoon. ”

　　Although I remembered that Holmes had told Stapleton the night before that his visit would end the next day, the plan of the trip surprised me, and I never imagined that he would want me to go with him. I also couldn't understand how we could all leave at the most dangerous moment he said was the most dangerous. But there is no way but to obey blindly. Thus we said goodbye to our angry friends, and two hours later we arrived at Qom Tracy Station, where we sent the carriage back. There was a little boy waiting for us on the platform.

　　"What's the command, sir?"

　　"Catale, just take this ride into town." As soon as you got there, send a telegram in my name to Sir Henry Baskerville, saying that if he found the notepad I had left there, ask him to register it and send it to Baker Street. ”

　　"Okay, sir."

　　"Now you go to the station post office and ask if you have any letters to me."

　　The boy returned with a telegram in a moment, and Holmes looked at it and handed it to me. It reads:

　　Telegram received. Go with a blank ticket. Arrived at 5:40.

　　Lestrade "This is my call back from that telegram in the morning. I think he's the most capable of the public detectives, and we probably need his help. Oh, Watson, I think we'd better use this time to visit your acquaintance, Mrs. Laura Lyons. ”

　　His battle plan began to emerge, and he wanted to use the Baronet to convince the Stapletons that we were really gone, when in fact we could appear at any time wherever we might be needed. If Sir Henry had mentioned to the Stapletons a telegram from London, their suspicions would have been completely dispelled. I seemed to have seen that the net we had laid around the spiky barracuda was getting tighter and tighter.

　　Mrs. Laura Lyons is in her office. Sherlock Holmes surprised her by the frankness and straightforwardness with which he began his interview.

　　"I am investigating the circumstances relating to the violent death of the late Sir Charles Baskerville," he said, "and this friend of mine, Dr. Watson, has reported to me what you have said, and has also said that you have some things to hide from it." ”

　　"What have I hidden?" She asked in a challenging tone.

　　"You have confessed that you asked Sir Charles to come to the door at ten o'clock. We know that was the time and place of his death. You withheld the association between these events. ”

　　"There is no connection between these events!"

　　"If that's the case, it's a very peculiar coincidence indeed. However, I think we will always find the connection. I would like to confess to you to the end, Mrs. Lyons, that we thought it was a murder. Based on the available evidence, not only your friend Stapleton, but even his wife may be implicated. ”

　　The lady jumped up from her chair.

　　"His wife!?" She exclaimed.

　　"It's no longer a secret. The man who was supposed to be his sister was actually his wife. ”

　　Mrs. Lyons sat down again, clutching the armrest with both hands, and I saw that the pink nails had turned white because of the pressure of her clenched hands.

　　"His wife!?" She said again, "His wife, he's not married yet!" ”

　　Sherlock Holmes shrugged.

　　"Give me proof!" Prove it to me! If you could do that..." Her terrible twinkling eyes were more telling than anything else.

　　"I have come here to prove it to you," said Holmes, drawing a few pieces of paper from his pocket, "and this is a photograph taken by the couple in Yorkshire four years ago." On the back it read 'Monsieur and Madame Van Dale', but it is not difficult for you to recognize him, and if you have met his wife, she is not difficult to recognize. These are three copies of material from several reliable witnesses about Mr. and Mrs. Van Dylé, who at the time ran a private St. Oliver Elementary School. Read it out and see if you still wonder if it's these two people. ”

　　She looked at the group photo of them, then looked up at us again, her face cold, showing a look of utter despair.

　　"Mr. Holmes," she said, "this man has proposed to me that he marry my husband as long as I can divorce him." This villain, he tried to lie to me. All the tricks came up with, and he didn't tell me a word of truth. But why... Why? I've always thought it was all for my sake. Now I understand that I have always been the tool in his hands. He never had the slightest true affection for me, so why should I remain loyal to him, and why should I cover him up so that he would not be able to eat the evil consequences of his own crimes? Ask me anything you want! I won't hide anything. But one thing I can swear to you is that when I wrote that letter, I never thought it would be harmful to the old gentleman, who was my best friend. ”

　　"I believe you perfectly, ma'am," said Sherlock Holmes, "and it must be painful for you to restate these things." Let me tell you what happened, and then you'll check to see if there's anything major wrong with it, so you might feel better. That letter was suggested to you by Stapleton, right? ”

　　"He dictated it, I wrote it."

　　"I suppose he made the reason he asked you to write this letter: you can get Sir Charles's financial help as a cost to you in the divorce proceedings?"

　　"Exactly."

　　"After you sent the letter, he dissuaded you from going to the appointment?"

　　"He told me that it was very hurtful to his self-esteem to let others pay for such a purpose, and that although he was a poor man, he would have to spend his last copper plate to remove the barrier to our separation."

　　"It seems that he is a man of words and deeds." You haven't heard anything since, except for the report on the death in the newspaper, have you? ”

　　"He also told you to swear that you would never say anything about your date with Sir Charles, right?"

　　"Yes, he said it was a very mysterious violent death, and if someone knew about our date, I would definitely be suspected." In this way, he scared me to the point of speaking. ”

　　"That's right, but you have your own doubts about him, don't you?"

　　She hesitated and lowered her head.

　　"I know him as a man," she said, "but if he remains sincere to me, I will always remain loyal to him." ”

　　"All in all, I think you're lucky to get out," said Sherlock Holmes, "and he knows it when he's in your hands, but you're still alive and not killed by him." For months, you've been hovering over the edge of a cliff. Now we must say goodbye to you, Mrs. Lyons, and perhaps soon you will hear from us again. ”

　　"The preparations before our case are complete, and the difficulties have disappeared before us one by one," said Holmes as we stood waiting for the express train from the city, "and I will soon be able to write a complete and most bizarre crime novel of modern times." Students studying criminology will remember a similar case that took place in 1866 in The Gordeno region of Little Russia and, of course, the Murder of Anderson in the Northern Kajerano region. However, this case has some characteristics that are completely different from other cases. Although we do not yet have conclusive evidence to subdue this scheming man, tonight, before we fall asleep, if we still don't know, it will be strange. ”

　　The express train from London roared into the station, and a man as short and sturdy as a rattle dog jumped out of a first-class carriage. The three of us shook hands, and I immediately saw it in the deserving look with which Rethride looked at my partner, who had learned a great deal since they had begun to work together. I still remember vividly how this man, who liked to use reasoning, used that set of theories to taunt and stimulate this pragmatic man.

　　"Is there anything good about it?" he asked.

　　"It's the most important thing in all these years," said Holmes, "and we have two hours to go before we think about doing it." I suppose we could use this time to have dinner, and then, Restrid, let you breathe in the cool night air of the Dayte Moor, so as to drive out the London fog in your throat, have you never been there? Ah, good! I don't think you'll ever forget about this first trip. ”

　　Chapter Fourteen: The Hounds of the Baskervilles

　　One of Holmes's shortcomings—indeed, if you can call it a shortcoming—is that he was extremely reluctant to tell anyone his whole plan until it was fulfilled. Undoubtedly, partly because of his own arrogant nature, which liked to dominate and surprise the people around him, and partly because of the caution required in his work, he never wanted to take any risks. This often embarrassed those who were his clients and assistants, and I have had more than one unpleasant experience, but there is nothing more uncomfortable than this long drive in the dark. The grave test is before our eyes, and all our actions have entered the final stages, but Holmes says nothing, and I can only speculate subjectively about the direction of his actions.

　　Later, our faces felt the cold wind blowing, and the narrow lane was lined with black holes and holes, all of which were empty spaces, and I realized that we were back in the moor again. The feeling of anticipating what was to come stirred up the nerves around me, and every step the horse took, every turn of the wheels brought us closer to the pinnacle of adventure. With the presence of the hired coachman, we could not speak freely, but had to talk about boring trivial matters, when in fact our nerves were already very strained by emotional excitement and anxiety. When we passed frankland's house and got closer and closer to the manor, the site of the accident, we finally survived the unnatural state of tension, and my mood was relieved. We didn't drive the car to the front of the building door and got out of the car at the main entrance near the driveway. After paying for the car and asking the coachman to go back to Qom Tracy at once, we headed for the Mellippi Mansion.

　　"Do you have a weapon with you, Lestrade?"

　　The short detective smiled.

　　"As long as I'm wearing pants, I have a pocket behind my ass, and since I have this pocket, I'm going to put something in it."

　　"Oh well! My friends and I are also prepared for emergencies. ”

　　"You're hiding this matter very tightly, Mr. Holmes. Now what are we doing? ”

　　"Just wait."

　　"I said, this is really not a happy place," said the detective, fighting a cold war, looking around at the dark hillside and the sea of fog that had formed over the Grimm Basin quagmire. "I saw the lights in a house in front of us."

　　"That's the Mellippi Mansion, and that's the end of our journey." Now I ask you to walk on tiptoes and whisper only in a whisper. ”

　　We continued along the path, and it looked like we were going to the house, but when we got to a distance of about two hundred yards from the house, Holmes stopped us.

　　"It's right here." He said, "These rocks on the right are a wonderful barrier. ”

　　"Are we just waiting here?"

　　"By the way, we're going to do a small ambush here." Restred, come to this ditch. Watson, you've been inside that house, haven't you? Can you name the location of the individual rooms? What are the windows of the house with several lattice windows at this end? ”

　　"I think it's the kitchen window."

　　"What about the one that's very bright over there?"

　　"That must be the dining room."

　　"The shutters are pulled up. You are most familiar with the terrain here. Quietly walk over and see what they're doing, but don't let them know someone is watching them! ”

　　I walked gently down the path, bending over behind a low wall surrounded by a badly grown fruit forest. Through the shadows I came to a place from which I could look directly into the window without curtains.

　　There were only two people in the room, Sir Henry and Stapleton. They sat face to face on either side of a round table, side to side with me. Both were smoking cigars and had coffee and wine in front of them. Stapleton was talking with great interest, while the Baronet was pale and absent-minded, perhaps because his heart was heavy at the thought of crossing the ominous moor alone.

　　Just as I was looking at them, Stapleton suddenly stood up and left the room, while Sir Henry filled his glass and leaned back in his chair, spewing cigar smoke. I heard the creak of a door and the crisp sound of leather shoes stepping on the gravel road, footsteps walking through the path on the other side of the wall where I was crouching. Looking over the wall, I saw the biologist standing at the door of a small room on the corner of the fruit tree forest, the key twisted in the keyhole, and as soon as he entered, there was a strange writhing sound inside. He stayed inside for only a minute or so, and then I heard another twist of the key, and he went back to the house. I saw him and his guests together again, so I quietly went back to where my friends were waiting for me and told them what I had seen.

　　"Watson, are you saying that the lady is not there?" After I had finished my report, Sherlock Holmes asked.

　　"Yes."

　　"So, where will she be?" There is no light in any room except the kitchen! ”

　　"I can't think of where she is."

　　The thick white mist on the quagmire of the Great Grimpool, which I have mentioned, was slowly drifting in our direction, accumulating as if a wall had been erected next to us, low but thick, and the boundaries were also very clear. Illuminated by the moonlight, it looks like a sparkling ice field, and there are protruding rock hills in the distance, as if they were rocks born on the ice field. Holmes's face turned to the other side, and as he looked at the slowly drifting fog, he muttered impatiently, "The fog is moving towards us, Watson!" ”

　　"Is the situation serious?"

　　"It's really serious, maybe it will disrupt my plans." Now, he couldn't stay long, it was already ten o'clock. Our success and his safety may depend on whether he comes out before the fog covers the path. ”

　　Above our heads, the night sky was bright and beautiful, the stars shone with a clear cold light, and the half moon hung high in the air, immersing the entire moor in a soft and hazy light. In front of us was the dark shadow of the house, its jagged roof and the silhouette of the chimney that stood clearly in the starry sky.

　　Several wide golden lights shot out from the windows below, shining in the direction of the fruit groves and moorlands. One of them suddenly extinguished, indicating that the servants had left the kitchen; only the light in the dining room remained, and the two men inside were still smoking cigars and chatting. One is the master of the deliberate murder, and the other is the unknown guest.

　　The fog that covered half of the moor, the white flowers like wool, drifted closer and closer to the house every minute, and some of the faint mist that arrived first was already rolling in front of the square window glowing golden. The wall behind the fruit tree forest is no longer visible, but the upper part of the tree still stands above a white swirl of water vapor. As we watched, the billowing fog had crept up to the corners of the house and slowly piled up into a thick wall, and the second floor resembled a strange, floating ship in the terrible sea. Holmes eagerly patted the rock in front of him with his hand and stomped his feet impatiently.

　　"If he doesn't come out in a quarter of an hour, the path will be covered, and in another half an hour, we'll have to put our hands in front of us and we won't be able to see them."

　　"Shall we retreat to a higher place?"

　　"By the way, I think that's fine."

　　So when the fog came over us, we retreated until we were half a mile from the house. But the thick white ocean that shone with moonlight on it continued to push slowly and resolutely in our direction.

　　"We've gone too far," said Holmes, "and he'll be chased before he gets close to us." We can't take this risk, we must stay here at any cost. "He got down on his knees and put his ear to the ground." Thank God I think I've heard Him coming. ”

　　A rush of footsteps broke the silence of the moor. We crouched among the rocks, staring intently at the silver-white wall of fog on the upper edge in front of us. The footsteps grew louder, and the people we were expecting walked through the thick fog as if through a curtain. As he stepped out of the thick fog and stood in the clear night illuminated by the stars, he looked around in panic, and then walked quickly down the path, passing close to where we had hidden, and then walked toward the long hill behind us. As he walked, he turned left and right restlessly and looked back. "Shhh!" Holmes hissed, and I heard a sharp and crisp voice pulling open the nose of the pistol, "Attention, it's coming!" ”

　　From the wall of fog that was slowly advancing, there was a constant soft rattling sound. The cloud-like fog was less than fifty yards away from where we were hiding, and all three of us stared dead-eyed at it, not knowing what terrible thing was going to appear there. I was at Holmes's elbow, and I glanced into his face. He was pale, but ecstatic, and his eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Suddenly, his eyes slammed forward and stared a little, his lips wide open in amazement. It was then that Rathriede cried out in horror and fell to the ground. I jumped up, my hand, which had become inflexible, clutching the pistol. The terrible shape that came to us in the fog frightened me out of the sky. It was indeed a hunting dog, a large hunting dog as black as coal, but it was not the kind of dog that people usually saw. Its mouth was spewing fire outwards, its eyes were shining like fire, and its head, neck hair, and lower part of its neck were shining. Like the black body and the vicious dog face that suddenly came to us from the fog barrier, even the madman would not see anything more vicious, more terrible, and more devil-like than this guy in the most grotesque dreams.

　　The huge black guy, striding down the path, chased our friend tightly. We were so stunned by this ghost that it ran past us before we could regain our senses. Later, Holmes and I fired together, and the guy roared in disgust, indicating that at least one shot had been fired. But it didn't stop, it continued to move forward. Far away on the path we saw Sir Henry looking back, and in the moonlight he was like a blank piece of paper, and he raised his hand in horror, glaring desperately at the terrible fellow who was chasing him.

　　The painful howl of the hound has completely eliminated our fears. As long as it is afraid to fight, it is not a ghost, and we can both injure it and kill it.

　　I had never seen anyone run as fast as Sherlock Holmes did that night. I've always been called Scud, but he left me behind like I had chased the short detective. As we galloped along the path, we heard a succession of shouts from Sir Henry ahead and the deep roar of the hound. When I arrived, I saw the beast swoop up and throw the baronet to the ground to bite him in the throat. In this moment of utter danger, Holmes fired five bullets from his revolver into the man's flank. The dog let out one last cry of pain and took a fierce bite into the air, then lay down on all fours, frantically stomping for a while, and then collapsed on his side. Gasping for breath, I bent down and pressed the pistol against the terrible faint glowing dog's head, but there was no use in pulling the trigger again, and the big hound was dead.

　　Sir Henry lay where he had fallen, unconscious. We untied his collar, and when Holmes saw that sir was not wounded, indicating that salvation was still timely, he prayed gratefully. Our friend's eyelids were already shaking, and he was still weak enough to move. Restrade shoved his brandy bottle between the baronet's upper and lower teeth, and his two frightened eyes looked up at us.

　　"O my God!" He whispered, "What's that?" What the hell is that? ”

　　"Whatever it is, it's dead anyway," said Holmes, "and we have destroyed the demons of your house forever." ”

　　The body lying in front of us with its limbs outstretched is already terrifying in terms of the size of the body and its strength alone. It is not a purebred blood beaver, nor a purebred mastiff, but rather a mixture of the two, with a terrible and violent appearance, and as large as a lion. Even now, when it was dead and motionless, the big mouth seemed to be dripping blue flames outward, and a ring of fire appeared around the small, deep and cruel eyes. I touched its glowing mouth, and as soon as I raised my hand, my fingers glowed in the darkness.

　　"It's phosphorus." I say.

　　"How cunning this arrangement is," said Holmes, sniffing the dead dog, "and there is no smell that affects its sense of smell." We are so sorry, Sir Henry, that you have been so frightened. I wanted to catch an ordinary hunting dog, but I never thought it would be such a one. The fog also prevented us from intercepting it. ”

　　"You finally saved my life."

　　"But it made you take such a big risk." Can you still stand up? ”

　　"Give me another sip of brandy, and I won't be afraid of anything." Ah, please help me up. Based on your opinion, what should we do? ”

　　"Leave you here. You are no longer fit to take any further risks tonight. If you're willing to wait, one of us will accompany you back to the manor. ”

　　He tried to struggle to get up, but he was still very pale, and his limbs were trembling. We helped him to a rock, and he sat down with his trembling hands covered.

　　"We have to leave you now," said Holmes, "and the rest has to be done, every minute counts." The evidence is complete, now all that is needed is to arrest the person. ”

　　"There is only a thousand chances of finding him in the house," he continued as we walked back down the path quickly, "and the gunshots had told him that the trick was over." ”

　　"At that time, we were still some way from him, and the fog might have blocked the sound of gunfire."

　　"He must have followed the hound so that he could command it—you can trust that." No, no, now he's gone! But let's still search the house, sure it's good. ”

　　The front door was open, and we rushed in, hurriedly walking from this room into the room, and in the aisle we met a terrified, aging male servant. There was no light anywhere except the dining room. Holmes hurriedly turned on the lamp, and there was not a single corner of the house that had not been searched, but there was no trace of the man we were following, and finally on the second floor found that the door of a bedroom had been locked.

　　"There's someone inside!" Lestrade shouted, "I heard something moving inside. Open this door! ”

　　From inside came a low moan and a rustling sound. Holmes slammed the soles of his foot into the door lock and kicked the door open at once. The three of us rushed into the house with pistols.

　　But there was no desperate, daring villain in the house we were looking for. In front of us was a very strange and unimaginable thing, and we stood there in shock and stared at it.

　　The room was arranged like a small museum, with a row of glass-lid boxes on the walls filled with butterflies and moths, which the scheming and dangerous man collected as entertainment. There is an upright stake in the middle of the room, which was erected when to support the old beams that crossed the roof and were mothed by insects. There was a man tied to this pillar, and the man was so bound by the cloth sheet that he could not make a sound, and you could not immediately tell whether it was a man or a woman. A handkerchief was tied around the neck to the pillar behind it, and the other covered the lower part of the face, revealing two black eyes—eyes full of pain and shame, and with terrible suspicion—staring at us deadly. After a while, we untied the man's mouth and the things tied to his body, and Mrs. Stapleton fell down in front of us. As her beautiful head drooped down to her chest, I saw clear red whip marks on her neck.

　　"This beast!" Holmes shouted, "Hey, Restrid, what about your brandy?" Put her in a chair! She had passed out from abuse and exhaustion. ”

　　She opened her eyes again.

　　"Is he safe?" She asked, "Did he run away?" ”

　　"He can't escape from us, ma'am."

　　"No, no, I'm not referring to my husband. What about Sir Henry? Is he safe? ”

　　"He's safe."

　　"What about the hound?"

　　"It's dead."

　　She let out a long sigh of satisfaction.

　　"Thank God! Thank God! Oh, this villain! See how he treats me!" "She jerked up her sleeve to reveal her arm, and we were horrified to see the scars on her arms." But that's nothing — it's nothing! He tortured and defiled my soul. As long as I had hope, he still loved me, whether it was abuse, loneliness, a deceived life, or anything else, I could endure it, but now I understand that in this regard, I am also the object of his deception and the instrument of evil. As she spoke, she suddenly burst into tears.

　　"You have no good feelings for him, ma'am," said Holmes, "then tell us where to find him." If you've ever done something bad for him, help us redeem ourselves now. ”

　　"He had to flee to one place," she replied, "and on a small island in the center of the quagmire, there was an old tin mine where he had hidden the hounds, and he had prepared there for shelter. He's going to run there. ”

　　The wall of fog clings to the window like snow-white wool. Holmes carried the lamp to the window.

　　"Look," he said, "no one can find a way into the Grimmpool quagmire tonight." ”

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

　　"He may be able to find his way in, but never intend to come out again," she cried, "how can he see the signs of the sticks tonight?" He and I inserted it together to mark the path through the quagmire, ah, if I could unplug him today, then you can really dispose of him at will! ”

　　Obviously, any chase is futile until the fog clears. We left Resttride to look after the house, while Holmes and I went back to the Baskerville manor with the Baronet. The truth about Stapleton's family could no longer be hidden from him, and when he heard the true feelings of the woman he loved, he could bravely bear the blow. But the shock of the adventure at night had already wounded his nerves, and before dawn he had a high fever and lay in a coma in bed, and Dr. Mortimer was called in to take care of him. The two of them had decided that they would go on a round-the-world trip together before Sir Henry regained his full spirits, knowing how energetic he was before he became the owner of this ominous property.

　　Now I am going to put an end to this peculiar story very quickly, in which I want to give the reader a glimpse of the extreme horrors and vague speculations that have long cast a shadow over our hearts and ended in such tragedy. The morning after the hound's death, the fog cleared, and we were guided by Mrs. Stapleton to the place where they had found a path through the mud. Watching her show the eagerness and joy with which she led us in tracking down her husband made us realize how terrible this woman's past life had been. We left her standing on a narrow peninsula-like, solid peat floor. The further you go into the swamp, the narrower the ground becomes. From the end of the ground there are little sticks inserted here and there, along these small sticks that the stranger cannot walk, twisting and turning, from one messy bush to another, meandering between the puddle of water floating with green foam and the dirty mud pit, the lush reeds and the green and juicy and sticky water grasses emitting the smell of decay, and the thick turbidity is coming at us, and we have more than once stumbled into kneeless, black, trembling mud pits, and we have gone a digital distance. The mud was still sticky and sticky on the feet and could not be shaken off. As we walked, the mud dragged on to our heels. When we sink into the mud, it is as if a vicious hand has dragged us deep into the sludge and grasped it so tightly and so firmly.

　　Only once did we see a trace of someone crossing that dangerous road before us. In the middle of a pile of cotton grass on the clayey ground was a black thing exposed. Holmes took only one step from the path to the side, trying to grasp the thing, and fell into a quagmire, sinking as deep as his waist. If we hadn't pulled him out there, he would never have stood on hard land again. He held up a black tall leather shoe with the words "Miles Toronto" printed on it.

　　"This mud bath is still worth a wash," he said, "and this is the leather shoe that our friend Sir Henry lost." ”

　　"It must have been left there when Stapleton fled."

　　"Exactly. He let the hound smell the shoes to track them down, and then left the shoes at hand, and when he knew that the trick had been debunked and fled, he still clutched it in his hand and left it here on the way to escape. We know that he was safe until at least until here. ”

　　Although we can make many speculations, we can never know more than this, and there is no way to find footprints in the moor. Because the mud that came up quickly covered it. As soon as we passed the last section of the muddy path and came to the solid ground, we all searched eagerly for footprints, but we did not see any shadow. If the earth hadn't lied, stapleton hadn't reached his destination yesterday as he struggled through the fog to his hideaway island. Somewhere in the center of the Green Basin Mud, the dirty yellow mud of the big mud had swallowed him up. This cruel, cold-hearted man was thus buried forever.

　　On the island where he hid his fierce companion, surrounded by quagmire, we found many traces of him. A large steering wheel and a vertical pit half filled with garbage indicate that this is the site of an abandoned mine pit. Next to it are the remains of a fragmented miner's hut, where the people who opened the mine were undoubtedly swept away by the stench of the surrounding quagmire. In a small room, there was a horseshoe, a chain, and some gnawed bones, indicating that this was where the beast had been hidden. A skeleton, lying between the ruins of the broken wall, was still covered with a cloud of brown hair.

　　"A dog!" Holmes said, "Oh my God, it's a curly-haired long-eared cane.

　　Poor Mortimer could no longer see the dog he loved. Well, I don't believe there's any secret here that we haven't figured out yet. He could hide his hound, but he couldn't keep it silent, so the cries came out, and even during the day it didn't sound very good. He could keep the hound in a hut outside Mellippi's house in a time of urgent need, but it was always risky to do so, and he dared to do so only when he thought everything was ready. The mushy thing in this tin can was undoubtedly a luminous mixture smeared on the beast. Of course, he took this approach because he was inspired by the stories of the magic dog that had been passed down from generation to generation, and because he intended to scare Old Sir Charles to death. No wonder the poor evil fugitive, when he saw such a beast in the darkness of the moor, sneaking up from behind, would run and scream like our friends, even if we ourselves might do the same. This is indeed a cunning conspiracy, for it will not only put the person to be murdered to death, but will also discourage the peasants from investigating such a beast in depth. Many people in the moor have seen this hound, but which farmer who has seen it dares to ask? I said in London, Watson, and now I repeat, we have never assisted in the hunt down a more dangerous figure than he lay there. He waved his long arms toward the vast, colourful, green-speckled mud, which stretched far into the distance until it joined the slopes of the russet moor.

　　Chapter XV Review

　　It was the end of November, a cold, foggy night, and in our bakery's street apartment, Holmes and I were sitting in the living room on either side of the roaring fire. After we went to Devon to experience the tragic case, he had already solved two of the most important cases. In the first case, he exposed Colonel Apou's mischief because of his connection to the famous "Matchless Club" card fraud case; in the second, he protected the unfortunate Mrs. Montbonche from the crime of murdering Miss Calais, the daughter of her husband's ex-wife, a young lady whom everyone remembers, who was still alive six months after the incident and was married in New York. My friend was in good spirits because of his success in a series of difficult and important cases, so I was able to induce him to talk about the details of the mysterious Baskerville case. I have been patiently waiting for this good opportunity, because as far as I know, he does not allow the cases to disturb each other, lest his clear mind distract him from his current work by recalling the past. Both Sir Henry and Dr. Mortimer were in London, preparing to make a long journey to restore Jazz's stimulated nerves. It was only that afternoon that they came to visit us, so it was natural to talk about the subject.

　　"The whole course of things," said Holmes, "is simple and clear from the point of view of the man who called himself Stapleton. Although for us, at the beginning, it is impossible to know the motives of his actions, and even the facts can only be known in part, so that the whole process seems extremely complicated. Mrs. Stapleton and I have spoken twice, and the case is now fully clear, and I don't know what mystery there will be. In the B-bar of my indexed case statistics table, you can find a few excerpts about this matter. "Stuff

　　"Maybe you'd like to talk about the whole case based on your memory."

　　"Of course I am willing to talk about Luo, although I cannot guarantee that all the facts will be remembered, and the high concentration of thought will drown the memory of the past. A lawyer working on a case was able to argue with an expert on the issue of the case, but after a week or two of court proceedings, he forgot all about it. Thus, in my mind, later cases have constantly taken over the place of previous cases, and the matter of Miss Carly has obscured my recollection of the Baskerville Manor case. Tomorrow may be another little problem, and it will also replace the beautiful French girl and the infamous Apou case. But with regard to the case of the hound, I would like to tell you as correctly as possible, and if I have forgotten something, you will add to it.

　　"My investigation confirmed without a doubt that the portrait of the Baskervilles was not deceptive, that the fellow was indeed a member of the Baskervilles, that he was the son of The Brother roger Baskerville of Sir Charles. Roger fled to South America with a terrible reputation, where legend has it that he died without marrying. In fact, he got married and had a child. The little fellow, who had the same name as his father, married a Costa Rican beauty, Belleil Garrothea, and after stealing a large amount of public money at one time, he changed his name to Van Dale and fled to England. Here he opened a primary school in the east of Yorkshire. The reason why he wanted to start this kind of business was because on his way home he occasionally met a teacher with lung disease, and he wanted to use this person's ability to make a successful career. But the Fritzer teacher died, and the school went from being discredited until it became infamous. The Van Dylers felt that it was best to change their surname to Stapleton, so he moved to the south of England with the rest of his possessions, with future plans and a love of entomology. I learned from the British Museum that he was still a recognized authority on this subject, and that there was a moth that was first discovered during his stay in Yorkshire, so it was permanently named Van Dyler. *

　　"The fact that we're talking about his life now really intrigued us. The guy apparently discovered after an investigation that only two people were preventing him from acquiring a huge fortune. I believe that his plans were still vague when he went to Devon, but from the fact that he took his wife with him and brought her as a sister, it was clear that he had bad intentions from the beginning. Although he may not have yet determined the details of the whole conspiracy, it was clear that he had thought of using her as bait. He was determined to get his property in his hands, and to that end he would do whatever it took or risked. His first step was to first place his home in a place near his ancestral home, and the closer he got, the better.

　　The second step was to develop friendship with Sir Charles Baskerville and his neighbours.

　　The baronet himself told him the legend of the family's hounds, and thus paved the way for himself to die. Stapleton—and I'll call him that—knew that the old man's heart was weak, and that he could die with a little fright, all that he knew from Dr. Mortimer—and he had heard that Sir Charles was superstitious and believed in the terrible legend. His quick mind immediately came up with a way to put the Baron to death and with little possibility of pursuing the real murderer.

　　After having this idea in his mind, he took considerable pains to try to make it happen. An ordinary conspirator, using a vicious hound, is satisfied. But he also used artificial methods to make this animal as terrible as the devil, which is his wit and genius. The dog, which he had bought from Rose and Mangus, a dog trader on Flåme Street in London, was the strongest and fiercest of all their goods. He took it home in a North Devon Railroad car, and for fear of attracting attention he led his dog through the moor. He had learned how to walk into the Grimm basin while catching insects, so he could find a safe hiding place for the hound. He just shut it up there and used it on standby.

　　"But the good opportunity did not come soon, and it was impossible to lure the old gentleman out of the house at night, and several times Stepton ambushed outside with his hound, but to no avail. In the midst of these fruitless pursuits, he, or rather his accomplices, was seen by the peasants, and thus the legend of the magic dog was newly confirmed. He had hoped that his wife might lead Charles to destruction, but on this issue she showed unexpected disobedience. She refused to drag the old gentleman into the network of lovers, for it would then be possible to hand him over to his mortal enemy, and the intimidation, the beatings which I did not even want to mention, did not shake her resolve, she did not want to participate in the matter in the slightest, and for a time Steptun even reached the point of no return.

　　But he finally got an opportunity in the midst of difficulties. Since Sir Charles had developed a friendship with him, he put him in charge of the charity money in the matter of helping the poor woman, Mrs. Laura Lyons. Since he appears as a bachelor, he can have a decisive influence on her. He told her that if her divorce from her husband was successful, he would marry her. But his plan suddenly came at a critical juncture, and at the suggestion of Dr. Mortimer, Sir Charles was preparing to leave the manor, and he himself pretended to agree with this opinion, but he must act at once, or he would be whipped as soon as the person he was going to do was far away. So he forced Mrs. Lyons to write the letter, pleading with the old man to meet her once the night before he went to London, and then to keep her from going to the appointment for a set of reasons that sounded plausible, so that he was given a good opportunity that had not been available for a long time.

　　In the evening he had returned in the car from Qom Tracy, and had enough time to get his hounds back, to paint them with glowing paint, and to take the beast near the gate, where he knew he must see the old gentleman waiting there. The dog, instigated by his master, jumped over the gate and chased after the unfortunate baronet, who was chased and ran down the water pine lane while shouting. It was terrifying to see the big, dark guy with his mouth and eyes jumping forward behind him in such a dark passage, so he fell to the ground at the end of the passage due to heart disease and excessive fear. The hound ran along the grassy road, while the baronet ran on the path, so that there was no trace of anything but the footprints of men. When the dog saw him lying motionless, he perhaps approached and sniffed, but when he saw that he was dead, he turned his head and left, and it was then that it left the paw prints that Dr. Mortimer had seen. The hounds were called back and hurried back to the kennel set up in the Grimm Basin mud. This mysterious incident made the official office feel inexplicable and surprised the people in the countryside, and finally we took over the investigation of the case.

　　"That's all there is to it about the death of Sir Charles Baskerville.

　　As you can see, the means used here are so cunning that, indeed, it is almost impossible to prosecute the real murderer. His only accomplice would never divulge his secrets, and the strange and unimaginable tactics made his plot go even more smoothly. The two women involved in the case, Mrs. Stapleton and Mrs. Laura Lyons, were extremely suspicious of Stapleton. Mrs. Stapleton knew that he was plotting against the old man and that there was the hound; Mrs. Lyons did not know either of these things, but she remembered that the time of the violent death was the time of the date that had not been canceled, and that the date was known only to him, so she was not without doubt. However, they were both under his control, and he had nothing to fear of them. The first half of the whole conspiracy was successfully realized, but the rest was more difficult.

　　"Probably Staples annexed without knowing that there was an heir in Canada. But in any case, he soon learned from his friend Dr. Mortimer. Dr. Mortimer later told him in detail about henry baskerville's arrival. Stapleton's first thought was that perhaps there would be no need to wait for this strange young man from Canada to come to Devon and kill him in London. Ever since his wife had refused to help him trap the old man, he no longer trusted his wife, and he did not even dare to leave her for a long time, for fear that he would lose the power to influence her, and that was why he took her with him to London. I found them living in the Mexboro Private Hotel on Craven Street, where I had sent someone to gather evidence. There he locked his wife in his room, and he put on a false beard and followed Dr. Mortimer, first to Baker Street, then to the station, and to the Northonbrand Hotel. His wife knew somewhat of his plot, but she was so frightened of her husband—a fear of brutal abuse—that she did not dare to write to warn the man she knew was in danger, for if the letter fell into Staple's hands, her life would be in danger. Finally, as we all know, she took the expedient measure of compiling the letter with the words cut from the newspaper and writing the addressee on the envelope in disguised handwriting. The letter reached the baronet and gave him the first warning of danger.

　　"It is very important for Stapleton to get a piece of Sir Henry's clothing, for once it is time to use a dog, he will have something to keep the dog smelling, and he will at once move with his characteristic agility and boldness, and we can be sure that the male and female servants of the hotel must have accepted many bribes to help him achieve his ends. But it so happened that the first shoe he got was new and of no use to him, and then he returned it and stole another—and this was the most helpful to us, for he confirmed in my heart that it was a real hound who was dealing with us, for there was no other hypothesis as to why he was in such a hurry to get an old shoe and so uninterested in a new shoe. The more bizarre things are, the more they deserve to be scrutinized, and the point that seems to complicate the whole case is often the most telling point if given proper consideration and scientific treatment.

　　"Later, the next morning, our friends came to visit us again, and they had been followed by Stapleton, who was sitting in the carriage. Judging from the fact that he knew our house and my face so well and his general behavior, I felt that Stapleton's criminal history was by no means limited to the Baskerville Manor case. It is said that in the past three years, there have been four major thefts in the west, but none of them have caught the criminals. The last one, which took place in The Forks In may, was special in that a servant was brutally shot to death for trying to capture the masked single thief. I believe that this is how Stapleton replenished his dwindling possessions, and that he had been a dangerous outlaw all these years.

　　"That morning, when he managed to escape from us and convey my name to me through the coachman, we had already seen his wit and boldness. From then on, he knew that I had taken over the case in London, and he knew that he would never get a chance to do it there again, so he returned to the Dart Moor and waited for the arrival of the Baronet. ”

　　"Wait a minute!" I said, "No doubt you have truthfully described what happened, but there is one thing you have not yet explained. What about the hound when the owner was in London? ”

　　"I have noticed this, and it is undoubtedly important. There was no problem with Stepton having a close associate, although it did not seem like Steptun had told him all his plans and was under his control. There was an old servant named Anthony in the Mellippi Mansion, whose relationship with the Stapletons family dates back to a few years before Stapleton was the principal of the elementary school, so he must have known that his master and mistress were indeed husband and wife, and that this man had escaped from the country and had disappeared. The surname 'Antony' seems to be unusual in England, and the surname 'Antonio' is also unusual in all Spanish-speaking countries and in the Americas. This man, like Mrs. Stapleton, spoke English very well, but with a strange smell of a large tongue. I had seen this old man walk through the Grimm basin mud swamp through the path marked by Stapleton. Therefore, it is likely that he took care of the hounds when his owner was away. Although he may never have known what he was doing to raise this beast.

　　The Stapletons then returned to Devon. Soon Sir Henry and you were there to keep up with them. To mention my personal opinion at that time, perhaps you can recall that when I examined the letter with the lead print of the newspaper on it, I carefully examined the watermark on the paper. During the examination, I held it just a few inches from my eyes and felt a scent that resembled a white spring flower. There are seventy-five perfumes, and a criminologist should be able to distinguish each of them. According to my personal experience, in more than one case, it is only possible to quickly identify the type of perfume to solve the case. The scent of the scent showed that a lady was involved in the case, and at that time I had begun to think of Mr. and Mrs. Stapleton in my mind. That's how I identified the hound before I went to the western countryside and guessed the culprit. *

　　"The trick I played was to spy on Stapleton. But, obviously, if I were with you, I wouldn't be able to do it, because then he would be very careful. So I deceived everyone— including you— and when they thought I was still in London, I had secretly gone to the countryside. I have not suffered as much as you might think, and I must not allow these small details to disrupt the investigation of the case. I spent most of my time in Qom Tracy, and only when I had to get close to the crime scene did I go to live in a hut on the moor. Catale came with me, pretending to be a country kid and helping me too much. I was able to get food and clean clothes by him, and While I was spying on Stapleton, Catale was constantly watching you, so my hands could catch all the clues.

　　"I've already told you that your reports will be delivered to me quickly, because they'll be sent to Qom Tracy as soon as they get to Baker Street." Those reports were of great help to me, especially the one about Staple's death that happened to be true. I was able to prove that it was the man and the woman, and finally I knew exactly how I should know. The fact that the fugitive and his relationship with Barry Mo has complicated the case quite a bit has been clarified by you in a very effective way, although I have come to the same conclusion through my own observations.

　　"When you found me in the moor, I had all the facts, but I did not yet have enough evidence to go before the jurors, and even the fact that Stapleton attempted to murder Sir Henry that night, but ended up killing the unfortunate fugitive, is difficult to prove that he was guilty of homicide. It seemed that there was no other way but to catch him on the spot, and to do so we would have to use Sir Henry as bait to leave him in a situation of solitude and apparent lack of protection. We did so, and though our client was severely frightened, we finally gathered the evidence of the crime and drove Staple to destruction. Putting Sir Henry in danger, I confess, this can only be said to be a major shortcoming in the course of my dealing with this case, but we cannot foresee that the beast will appear so terrible and frightening, nor can we predict the appearance of the fog that makes it so sudden. The completion of our task came at a price, but the specialist Dr. Mortimer assured me that the effects of this cost were only temporary. A long journey can not only restore our friend's deeply battered nerves, but also heal his spiritual wounds, and his love for the lady is deep. To him, the saddest thing about this unfortunate thing was that he had been deceived by her.

　　"All that needs to be said now is her role in this. Undoubtedly, she was under stapleton's control. The reason for this may be love, perhaps fear, or perhaps both, for this is by no means two emotions that cannot exist at the same time. The power of this control, at least absolutely effective, was at his behest, and she agreed to pretend to be his sister, though at the time when he wanted to make her participate directly in the murder, she also discovered that his control over her was still limited.

　　As long as her husband was not implicated, she was ready to warn Sir Henry, and she had repeatedly wanted to do so. It seemed that Stapleton still seemed to be jealous, and when he saw the baronet proposing to the lady, although this was also within his own plans, he could not help but intervene in a furious manner, thus exposing his fiery personality, which he had cleverly concealed by self-restraint. He used the method of drawing affection to make Sir Henry come to the Mellippi Mansion frequently, so that sooner or later he could get the good opportunity he had hoped for, but on the day of the crisis his wife suddenly turned against him. She knew a little about the fugitive's death, and she knew that the hound was locked up in the hut outside the evening sir Henry came for dinner. She condemned her husband's premeditated crime; he was furious, and for the first time he revealed to her that he had another love. Her former meekness had suddenly turned into a deep hatred, and he could see that she would betray him, so he tied her up so that she would not warn Sir Henry whenever she had the opportunity, and no doubt he hoped that when the whole country had attributed the death of the baronet to his family—and they would, of course, they would think so—he would be able to win over his wife to accept the fait accompli and to keep it a secret. On this question, I think, in any case, he has miscalculated, and even if we don't go there, his fate is also doomed. A woman of Spanish descent would not forgive such an insult so easily. My dear Watson, without referring to the excerpt, I cannot give you a more detailed account of this strange case. I don't know if there's anything important left that hasn't been explained. ”

　　"He cannot expect to frighten Sir Henry to death with his terrible hound as he did to kill his old uncle."

　　"The beast was fierce, and it was only half fed. Its appearance, if not scaring the people it was following, at least made him lose his resistance. ”

　　"Of course. There is one more puzzle left. If Stapleton inherited property, how could he explain the fact that he, the heir, had been living in seclusion so close to the property by changing his name and surname? How could he claim the right to inherit without arousing suspicion and demands for an investigation? ”

　　"This is a huge difficulty, and if you want me to solve this problem, I'm afraid you are asking too much." I've investigated both the past and the present. But what will happen to a person in the future is a difficult question to answer. Mrs. Stapleton had heard her husband talk about the matter several times, and there were three ways to go: he might have to claim the inheritance of the property from South America, and let the local British authorities prove his identity, so that he could get his hands on it without coming to England at all; or he could take the method of concealing his identity for a short period of time living in London; or he might find an accomplice, with documentary evidence, to prove the identity of his heir, but retain title to a portion of his income. According to what we know about him, he can always try to solve these difficulties. Ah, my dear Watson, we have been doing serious work for a few weeks, and I think, let's change our tastes and think of something pleasant tonight. I booked a private room at the Yoganow Theater. You've heard of de Rezke [Jean de Rezke: Polish opera singer, born in Warsaw in 1853. Opera? Please dress up in half an hour, and we can have dinner at the Mazzini Hotel on the way. ”