Sherlock Holmes: The Hounds of the Baskervilles ( In English ) – 2 The Curse of the Baskervilles The Curse of the Baskervilles

<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right">The Curse of the Baskervilles</h1>

<h1 class= "pgc-h-arrow-right" > curse of baskerville</h1>

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

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

"I observed it as you entered the room," said Holmes.

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

"It is an old manuscript."

"It's an old manuscript."

"Early eighteenth century, unless it is a forgery."

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

"How can you say that, sir?"

"How do you know, sir?"

"You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination all the time that you have been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of a document within a decade or so. You may possibly have read my little monograph upon the subject. I put that at 1730."

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

"The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer drew it from his breast-pocket. "This family paper was committed to my care by Sir Charles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic death some three months ago created so much excitement in Devonshire. I may say that I was his personal friend as well as his medical attendant. He was a strong-minded man, sir, shrewd, practical, and as unimaginative as I am myself. Yet he took this document very seriously, and his mind was prepared for just such an end as did eventually overtake him."

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

Holmes stretched out his hand for the manuscript and flattened it upon his knee.

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

"You will observe, Watson, the alternative use of the long s and the short. It is one of several indications which enabled me to fix the date."

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

I looked over his shoulder at the yellow paper and the faded script. At the head was written: "Baskerville Hall," and below in large, scrawling figures: "1742."

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

"It appears to be a statement of some sort."

"It looks like a record of something."

"Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend which runs in the Baskerville family."

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

"But I understand that it is something more modern and practical upon which you wish to consult me?"

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

"Most modern. A most practical, pressing matter, which must be decided within twenty-four hours. But the manuscript is short and is intimately connected with the affair. With your permission I will read it to you."

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

Holmes leaned back in his chair, placed his finger-tips together, and closed his eyes, with an air of resignation. Dr. Mortimer turned the manuscript to the light and read in a high, cracking voice the following curious, old-world narrative:

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

"Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have been many statements, yet as I come in a direct line from Hugo Baskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also had it from his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred even as is here set forth. And I would have you believe, my sons, that the same Justice which punishes sin may also most graciously forgive it, and that no ban is so heavy but that by prayer and repentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story not to fear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in the future, that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered so grievously may not again be loosed to our undoing.

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

"Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the history of which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commend to your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo of that name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane, and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts, but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humour which made his name a byword through the West. It chanced that this Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evil name. So it came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with five or six of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, her father and brothers being from home, as he well knew. When they had brought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom. Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her from below, for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blast the man who said them. At last in the stress of her fear she did that which might have daunted the bravest or most active man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall she came down from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father's farm.

"It is said that during the Period of the Great Rebellion (and I sincerely recommend to you that you should read the history written by the erudite Baron Clarenton), this Baskerville estate was originally occupied by Hugh Baskerville, who is undeniably the most vulgar and rude and godless man. In fact, if it had been only for this, the neighbors could have forgiven him, for the holy religion had never flourished in this region. His natural arrogance and cruelty were already well known in the West. By chance, the Monsieur Hugh fell in love with (if one could still call his vile lust by such a pure word) the daughter of a farmer who had planted several acres of land near the Baskerville estate. But this young girl has always had a good reputation for being careful in her words and deeds, of course, she must avoid him, not to mention that she is still afraid of his notoriety. Later, on the day of The Mikomoth's Feast, the Monk knew that both of her father and brother had gone out, and together with five or six idle and indecent friends, he secretly went to her house and snatched the girl back. They took her into the manor and locked her upstairs in a small room, where Xiu Guo sat and drank with her friends, as they often did at night. At this time, the poor girl upstairs heard the wild songs and roars downstairs and those dirty words that were unbearable, and she was already terrified and overwhelmed. It has been said that the words spoken by Hugh Baskerville when he was drunk, no matter who they were, could be punished by heaven even if they were repeated. Finally, in a situation of great fear, she did something that even the bravest and most cunning people would be amazed at. She came out of the window and climbed the vines that still covered the south wall from under the eaves, and then ran across the moor to her home, where the manor was about nine miles from her house.

"It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink -- with other worse things, perchance -- to his captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud before all the company that he would that very night render his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake the wench. And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.

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

"Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home.

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

"They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. 'But I have seen more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.

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

"The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerviile lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days.

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

"Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. If I have set it down it is because that which is clearly known hath less terror than that which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can it be denied that many of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Yet may we shelter ourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence, which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generation which is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my sons, I hereby commend you, and I counsel you by way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours when the powers of evil are exalted.

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

"[This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth.]"

(This is a letter from Hugh Baskerville to his two sons, Roger and John, and advises them not to inform their sister Elizabeth about it.) 〕”

When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and stared across at Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire.

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

"Well?" said he.

"Huh?" He said.

"Do you not find it interesting?"

"Don't you think it's funny?"

"To a collector of fairy tales."

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

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

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

"Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. This is the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskerville which occurred a few days before that date."

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

My friend leaned a little forward and his expression became intent. Our visitor readjusted his glasses and began:

My friend leaned forward slightly, and his look became more focused. Our visitor put their glasses back on and began to read again:

"The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose name has been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county. Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for a comparatively short period his amiability of character and extreme generosity had won the affection and respect of all who had been brought into contact with him. In these days of nouveaux riches it is refreshing to find a case where the scion of an old county family which has fallen upon evil days is able to make his own fortune and to bring it back with him to restore the fallen grandeur of his line. Sir Charles, as is well known, made large sums of money in South African speculation. More wise than those who go on until the wheel turns against them, he realized his gains and returned to England with them. It is only two years since he took up his residence at Baskerville Hall, and it is common talk how large were those schemes of reconstruction and improvement which have been interrupted by his death. Being himself childless, it was his openly expressed desire that the whole countryside should, within his own lifetime, profit by his good fortune, and many will have personal reasons for bewailing his untimely end. His generous donations to local and county charities have been frequently chronicled in these columns.

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

"The circumstances connected with the death of Sir Charles cannot be said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest, but at least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours to which local superstition has given rise. There is no reason whatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could be from any but natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and a man who may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habit of mind. In spite of his considerable wealth he was simple in his personal tastes, and bis indoor servants at Baskerville Hall consisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband acting as butler and the wife as housekeeper. Their evidence, corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that Sir Charles's health has for some time been impaired, and points especially to some affection of the heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and medical attendant of the deceased, has given evidence to the same effect.

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

"The facts of the case are simple. Sir Charles Baskerville was in the habit every night before going to bed of walking down the famous yew alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of the Barrymores shows that this had been his custom. On the fourth of May Sir Charles had declared his intention of starting next day for London, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. That night he went out as usual for his nocturnal walk, in the course of which he was in the habit of smoking a cigar. He never returned. At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search of his master. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles's footmarks were easily traced down the alley. Halfway down this walk there is a gate which leads out on to the moor. There were indications that Sir Charles had stood for some little time here. He then proceeded down the alley, and it was at the far end of it that his body was discovered. One fact which has not been explained is the statement of Barrymore that his master's footprints altered their character from the time that he passed the moor-gate, and that he appeared from thence onward to have been walking upon his toes. One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no great distance at the time, but he appears by his own confession to have been the worse for drink. He declares that he heard cries but is unable to state from what direction they came. No signs of violence were to be discovered upon Sir Charles's person, and though the doctor's evidence pointed to an almost incredible facial distortion -- so great that Dr. Mortimer refused at first to believe that it was indeed his friend and patient who lay before him -- it was explained that that is a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death from cardiac exhaustion. This explanation was borne out by the post-mortem examination, which showed long-standing organic disease, and the coroner's jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of the utmost importance that Sir Charles's heir should settle at the Hall and continue the good work which has been so sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner not finally put an end to the romantic stories which have been whispered in connection with the affair, it might have been difficult to find a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understood that the next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be still alive, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. The young man when last heard of was in America, and inquiries are being instituted with a view to informing him of his good fortune."

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

Dr. Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket.

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

"Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, in connection with the death of Sir Charles Baskerville."

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

"I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for calling my attention to a case which certainly presents some features of interest. I had observed some newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly preoccupied by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting English cases. This article, you say, contains all the public facts?"

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

"It does."

"Yes."

"Then let me have the private ones." He leaned back, put his finger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicial expression.

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

"In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs of some strong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided to anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a man of science shrinks from placing himself in the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather less than I knew, since no practical good could result from it, but with you there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank.

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

"The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near each other are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good deal of Sir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other men of education within many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man, but the chance of his illness brought us together, and a community of interests in science kept us so. He had brought back much scientific information from South Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent together discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the Hottentot.

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

"Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me that Sir Charles's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. He had taken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart -- so much so that, although he would walk in his own grounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhung his family, and certainly the records which he was able to give of his ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presence constantly haunted him, and on more than one occasion he has asked me whether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound. The latter question he put to me several times, and always with a voice which vibrated with excitement.

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

"I can well remember driving up to his house in the evening some three weeks before the fatal event. He chanced to be at his hall door. I had descended from my gig and was standing in front of him, when I saw his eyes fix themselves over my shoulder and stare past me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round and had just time to catch a glimpse of something which I took to be a large black calf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was he that I was compelled to go down to the spot where the animal had been and look around for it. It was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make the worst impression upon his mind. I stayed with him all the evening, and it was on that occasion, to explain the emotion which he had shown, that he confided to my keeping that narrative which I read to you when first I came. I mention this small episode because it assumes some importance in view of the tragedy which followed, but I was convinced at the time that the matter was entirely trivial and that his excitement had no justification.

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

"It was at my advice that Sir Charles was about to go to London. His heart was, I knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in which he lived, however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently having a serious effect upon his health. I thought that a few months among the distractions of town would send him back a new man. Mr. Stapleton, a mutual friend who was much concerned at his state of health, was of the same opinion. At the last instant came this terrible catastrophe.

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

"On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler who made the discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I was sitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of the event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentioned at the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the yew alley, I saw the spot at the moor-gate where he seemed to have waited, I remarked the change in the shape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were no other footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally I carefully examined the body, which had not been touched until my arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into the ground, and his features convulsed with some strong emotion to such an extent that I could hardly have sworn to his identity. TheFe was certainly no physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made by Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon the ground round the body. He did not observe any. But I did -- some little distance off, but fresh and clear."

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

"Footprints?"

"Footprints?"

"Footprints. "

"Footprints."

"A man's or a woman's?"

"Is it a man's or a woman's?"

Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and his voice sank almost to a whisper as he answered:

Mortimer looked at us strangely for a moment, and in answering his voice was almost as low as a whisper:

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

"Mr. Holmes, is a great hunting dog's paw print!"