The Hound of the Baskervilles Page 12

  Chapter 12

  Death on the Moor

  For a moment or two I sat breathless, hardly able to believe myears. Then my senses and my voice came back to me, while acrushing weight of responsibility seemed in an instant to belifted from my soul. That cold, incisive, ironical voice couldbelong to but one man in all the world.

  "Holmes!" I cried--"Holmes!"

  "Come out," said he, "and please be careful with the revolver."

  I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stoneoutside, his gray eyes dancing with amusement as they fell uponmy astonished features. He was thin and worn, but clear andalert, his keen face bronzed by the sun and roughened by thewind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap he looked like any othertourist upon the moor, and he had contrived, with that cat-likelove of personal cleanliness which was one of hischaracteristics, that his chin should be as smooth and his linenas perfect as if he were in Baker Street.

  "I never was more glad to see anyone in my life," said I, as Iwrung him by the hand.

  "Or more astonished, eh?"

  "Well, I must confess to it."

  "The surprise was not all on one side, I assure you. I had noidea that you had found my occasional retreat, still less thatyou were inside it, until I was within twenty paces of the door."

  "My footprint, I presume?"

  "No, Watson; I fear that I could not undertake to recognize yourfootprint amid all the footprints of the world. If you seriouslydesire to deceive me you must change your tobacconist; for when Isee the stub of a cigarette marked Bradley, Oxford Street, I knowthat my friend Watson is in the neighbourhood. You will see itthere beside the path. You threw it down, no doubt, at thatsupreme moment when you charged into the empty hut."

  "Exactly."

  "I thought as much--and knowing your admirable tenacity I wasconvinced that you were sitting in ambush, a weapon within reach,waiting for the tenant to return. So you actually thought that Iwas the criminal?"

  "I did not know who you were, but I was determined to find out."

  "Excellent, Watson! And how did you localize me? You saw me,perhaps, on the night of the convict hunt, when I was soimprudent as to allow the moon to rise behind me?"

  "Yes, I saw you then."

  "And have no doubt searched all the huts until you came to thisone?"

  "No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guide whereto look."

  "The old gentleman with the telescope, no doubt. I could not makeit out when first I saw the light flashing upon the lens." Herose and peeped into the hut. "Ha, I see that Cartwright hasbrought up some supplies. What's this paper? So you have been toCoombe Tracey, have you?"

  "Yes."

  "To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?"

  "Exactly."

  "Well done! Our researches have evidently been running onparallel lines, and when we unite our results I expect we shallhave a fairly full knowledge of the case."

  "Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeed theresponsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for mynerves. But how in the name of wonder did you come here, and whathave you been doing? I thought that you were in Baker Streetworking out that case of blackmailing."

  "That was what I wished you to think."

  "Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!" I cried with somebitterness. "I think that I have deserved better at your hands,Holmes."

  "My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as inmany other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I haveseemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for yourown sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the dangerwhich you ran which led me to come down and examine the matterfor myself. Had I been with Sir Henry and you it is confidentthat my point of view would have been the same as yours, and mypresence would have warned our very formidable opponents to be ontheir guard. As it is, I have been able to get about as I couldnot possibly have done had I been living in the Hall, and Iremain an unknown factor in the business, ready to throw in allmy weight at a critical moment."

  "But why keep me in the dark?"

  "For you to know could not have helped us, and might possiblyhave led to my discovery. You would have wished to tell mesomething, or in your kindness you would have brought me out somecomfort or other, and so an unnecessary risk would be run. Ibrought Cartwright down with me--you remember the little chap atthe express office--and he has seen after my simple wants: a loafof bread and a clean collar. What does man want more? He hasgiven me an extra pair of eyes upon a very active pair of feet,and both have been invaluable."

  "Then my reports have all been wasted!"--My voice trembled as Irecalled the pains and the pride with which I had composed them.

  Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket.

  "Here are your reports, my dear fellow, and very well thumbed, Iassure you. I made excellent arrangements, and they are onlydelayed one day upon their way. I must compliment you exceedinglyupon the zeal and the intelligence which you have shown over anextraordinarily difficult case."

  I was still rather raw over the deception which had beenpractised upon me, but the warmth of Holmes's praise drove myanger from my mind. I felt also in my heart that he was right inwhat he said and that it was really best for our purpose that Ishould not have known that he was upon the moor.

  "That's better," said he, seeing the shadow rise from my face."And now tell me the result of your visit to Mrs. Laura Lyons--itwas not difficult for me to guess that it was to see her that youhad gone, for I am already aware that she is the one person inCoombe Tracey who might be of service to us in the matter. Infact, if you had not gone to-day it is exceedingly probable thatI should have gone to-morrow."

  The sun had set and dusk was settling over the moor. The air hadturned chill and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. There,sitting together in the twilight, I told Holmes of myconversation with the lady. So interested was he that I had torepeat some of it twice before he was satisfied.

  "This is most important," said he when I had concluded. "It fillsup a gap which I had been unable to bridge, in this most complexaffair. You are aware, perhaps, that a close intimacy existsbetween this lady and the man Stapleton?"

  "I did not know of a close intimacy."

  "There can be no doubt about the matter. They meet, they write,there is a complete understanding between them. Now, this puts avery powerful weapon into our hands. If I could only use it todetach his wife----"

  "His wife?"

  "I am giving you some information now, in return for all that youhave given me. The lady who has passed here as Miss Stapleton isin reality his wife."

  "Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? How could hehave permitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?"

  "Sir Henry's falling in love could do no harm to anyone exceptSir Henry. He took particular care that Sir Henry did not makelove to her, as you have yourself observed. I repeat that thelady is his wife and not his sister."

  "But why this elaborate deception?"

  "Because he foresaw that she would be very much more useful tohim in the character of a free woman."

  All my unspoken instincts, my vague suspicions, suddenly tookshape and centred upon the naturalist. In that impassive,colourless man, with his straw hat and his butterfly-net, Iseemed to see something terrible--a creature of infinite patienceand craft, with a smiling face and a murderous heart.

  "It is he, then, who is our enemy--it is he who dogged us inLondon?"

  "So I read the riddle."

  "And the warning--it must have come from her!"

  "Exactly."

  The shape of some monstrous villainy, half seen, half guessed,loomed through the darkness which had girt me so long.

  "But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that the womanis his wife?"

  "Because he so far forgot himself as to tell you a true piece ofautobiography upon the occasion when he first met you, and Idare say he has many a time regretted it since. He was once aschoolmaster in the north of
England. Now, there is no one moreeasy to trace than a schoolmaster. There are scholastic agenciesby which one may identify any man who has been in the profession.A little investigation showed me that a school had come to griefunder atrocious circumstances, and that the man who had ownedit--the name was different--had disappeared with his wife. Thedescriptions agreed. When I learned that the missing man wasdevoted to entomology the identification was complete."

  The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by theshadows.

  "If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs. Laura Lyonscome in?" I asked.

  "That is one of the points upon which your own researches haveshed a light. Your interview with the lady has cleared thesituation very much. I did not know about a projected divorcebetween herself and her husband. In that case, regardingStapleton as an unmarried man, she counted no doubt upon becominghis wife."

  "And when she is undeceived?"

  "Why, then we may find the lady of service. It must be our firstduty to see her--both of us--to-morrow. Don't you think, Watson,that you are away from your charge rather long? Your place shouldbe at Baskerville Hall."

  The last red streaks had faded away in the west and night hadsettled upon the moor. A few faint stars were gleaming in aviolet sky.

  "One last question, Holmes," I said, as I rose. "Surely there isno need of secrecy between you and me. What is the meaning of itall? What is he after?"

  Holmes's voice sank as he answered:----

  "It is murder, Watson--refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder.Do not ask me for particulars. My nets are closing upon him, evenas his are upon Sir Henry, and with your help he is alreadyalmost at my mercy. There is but one danger which can threatenus. It is that he should strike before we are ready to do so.Another day--two at the most--and I have my case complete, butuntil then guard your charge as closely as ever a fond motherwatched her ailing child. Your mission to-day has justifieditself, and yet I could almost wish that you had not left hisside. Hark!"

  A terrible scream--a prolonged yell of horror and anguish--burstout of the silence of the moor. That frightful cry turned theblood to ice in my veins.

  "Oh, my God!" I gasped. "What is it? What does it mean?"

  Holmes had sprung to his feet, and I saw his dark, athleticoutline at the door of the hut, his shoulders stooping, his headthrust forward, his face peering into the darkness.

  "Hush!" he whispered. "Hush!"

  The cry had been loud on account of its vehemence, but it hadpealed out from somewhere far off on the shadowy plain. Now itburst upon our ears, nearer, louder, more urgent than before.

  "Where is it?" Holmes whispered; and I knew from the thrill ofhis voice that he, the man of iron, was shaken to the soul."Where is it, Watson?"

  "There, I think." I pointed into the darkness.

  "No, there!"

  Again the agonized cry swept through the silent night, louder andmuch nearer than ever. And a new sound mingled with it, a deep,muttered rumble, musical and yet menacing, rising and fallinglike the low, constant murmur of the sea.

  "The hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, come! Great heavens, ifwe are too late!"

  He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I had followedat his heels. But now from somewhere among the broken groundimmediately in front of us there came one last despairing yell,and then a dull, heavy thud. We halted and listened. Not anothersound broke the heavy silence of the windless night.

  I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted.He stamped his feet upon the ground.

  "He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late."

  "No, no, surely not!"

  "Fool that I was to hold my hand. And you, Watson, see what comesof abandoning your charge! But, by Heaven, if the worst hashappened, we'll avenge him!"

  Blindly we ran through the gloom, blundering against boulders,forcing our way through gorse bushes, panting up hills andrushing down slopes, heading always in the direction whence thosedreadful sounds had come. At every rise Holmes looked eagerlyround him, but the shadows were thick upon the moor, and nothingmoved upon its dreary face.

  "Can you see anything?"

  "Nothing."

  "But, hark, what is that?"

  A low moan had fallen upon our ears. There it was again upon ourleft! On that side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliff whichoverlooked a stone-strewn slope. On its jagged face wasspread-eagled some dark, irregular object. As we ran towards itthe vague outline hardened into a definite shape. It was aprostrate man face downward upon the ground, the head doubledunder him at a horrible angle, the shoulders rounded and the bodyhunched together as if in the act of throwing a somersault. Sogrotesque was the attitude that I could not for the instantrealize that that moan had been the passing of his soul. Not awhisper, not a rustle, rose now from the dark figure over whichwe stooped. Holmes laid his hand upon him, and held it up again,with an exclamation of horror. The gleam of the match which hestruck shone upon his clotted fingers and upon the ghastly poolwhich widened slowly from the crushed skull of the victim. And itshone upon something else which turned our hearts sick and faintwithin us--the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!

  There was no chance of either of us forgetting that peculiarruddy tweed suit--the very one which he had worn on the firstmorning that we had seen him in Baker Street. We caught the oneclear glimpse of it, and then the match flickered and went out,even as the hope had gone out of our souls. Holmes groaned, andhis face glimmered white through the darkness.

  "The brute! the brute!" I cried with clenched hands. "Oh Holmes,I shall never forgive myself for having left him to his fate."

  "I am more to blame than you, Watson. In order to have my casewell rounded and complete, I have thrown away the life of myclient. It is the greatest blow which has befallen me in mycareer. But how could I know--how could l know--that he wouldrisk his life alone upon the moor in the face of all mywarnings?"

  "That we should have heard his screams--my God, thosescreams!--and yet have been unable to save him! Where is thisbrute of a hound which drove him to his death? It may be lurkingamong these rocks at this instant. And Stapleton, where is he? Heshall answer for this deed."

  "He shall. I will see to that. Uncle and nephew have beenmurdered--the one frightened to death by the very sight of abeast which he thought to be supernatural, the other driven tohis end in his wild flight to escape from it. But now we have toprove the connection between the man and the beast. Save fromwhat we heard, we cannot even swear to the existence of thelatter, since Sir Henry has evidently died from the fall. But, byheavens, cunning as he is, the fellow shall be in my power beforeanother day is past!"

  We stood with bitter hearts on either side of the mangled body,overwhelmed by this sudden and irrevocable disaster which hadbrought all our long and weary labours to so piteous an end.Then, as the moon rose we climbed to the top of the rocks overwhich our poor friend had fallen, and from the summit we gazedout over the shadowy moor, half silver and half gloom. Far away,miles off, in the direction of Grimpen, a single steady yellowlight was shining. It could only come from the lonely abode ofthe Stapletons. With a bitter curse I shook my fist at it as Igazed.

  "Why should we not seize him at once?"

  "Our case is not complete. The fellow is wary and cunning to thelast degree. It is not what we know, but what we can prove. If wemake one false move the villain may escape us yet."

  "What can we do?"

  "There will be plenty for us to do to-morrow. To-night we canonly perform the last offices to our poor friend."

  Together we made our way down the precipitous slope andapproached the body, black and clear against the silvered stones.The agony of those contorted limbs struck me with a spasm of painand blurred my eyes with tears.

  "We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all the wayto the Hall. Good heavens, are you mad?"

  He had uttered a cry and bent over the body. Now he was dancingand laughing and wringing my hand. Could this be my stern,self-contained fr
iend? These were hidden fires, indeed!

  "A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!"

  "A beard?"

  "It is not the baronet--it is--why, it is my neighbour, theconvict!"

  With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and thatdripping beard was pointing up to the cold, clear moon. Therecould be no doubt about the beetling forehead, the sunken animaleyes. It was indeed the same face which had glared upon me in thelight of the candle from over the rock--the face of Selden, thecriminal.

  Then in an instant it was all clear to me. I remembered how thebaronet had told me that he had handed his old wardrobe toBarrymore. Barrymore had passed it on in order to help Selden inhis escape. Boots, shirt, cap--it was all Sir Henry's. Thetragedy was still black enough, but this man had at leastdeserved death by the laws of his country. I told Holmes how thematter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulness and joy.

  "Then the clothes have been the poor devil's death," said he. "Itis clear enough that the hound has been laid on from some articleof Sir Henry's--the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, inall probability--and so ran this man down. There is one verysingular thing, however: How came Selden, in the darkness, toknow that the hound was on his trail?"

  "He heard him."

  "To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man likethis convict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would riskrecapture by screaming wildly for help. By his cries he must haverun a long way after he knew the animal was on his track. How didhe know?"

  "A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that allour conjectures are correct --"

  "I presume nothing."

  "Well, then, why this hound should be loose to-night. I supposethat it does not always run loose upon the moor. Stapleton wouldnot let it go unless he had reason to think that Sir Henry wouldbe there."

  "My difficulty is the more formidable of the two, for I thinkthat we shall very shortly get an explanation of yours, whilemine may remain forever a mystery. The question now is, whatshall we do with this poor wretch's body? We cannot leave it hereto the foxes and the ravens."

  "I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we cancommunicate with the police."

  "Exactly. I have no doubt that you and I could carry it so far.Halloa, Watson, what's this? It's the man himself, by all that'swonderful and audacious! Not a word to show your suspicions--not aword, or my plans crumble to the ground."

  A figure was approaching us over the moor, and I saw the dull redglow of a cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I could distinguishthe dapper shape and jaunty walk of the naturalist. He stoppedwhen he saw us, and then came on again.

  "Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last manthat I should have expected to see out on the moor at this timeof night. But, dear me, what's this? Somebody hurt? Not--don'ttell me that it is our friend Sir Henry!" He hurried past me andstooped over the dead man. I heard a sharp intake of his breathand the cigar fell from his fingers.

  "Who--who's this?" he stammered.

  "It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown."

  Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supreme efforthe had overcome his amazement and his disappointment. He lookedsharply from Holmes to me.

  "Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?"

  "He appears to have broken his neck by falling over these rocks.My friend and I were strolling on the moor when we heard a cry."

  "I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I was uneasyabout Sir Henry."

  "Why about Sir Henry in particular?" I could not help asking.

  "Because I had suggested that he should come over. When he didnot come I was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed for hissafety when I heard cries upon the moor. By the way"--his eyesdarted again from my face to Holmes's--"did you hear anythingelse besides a cry?"

  "No," said Holmes; "did you?"

  "No."

  "What do you mean, then?"

  "Oh, you know the stories that the peasants tell about a phantomhound, and so on. It is said to be heard at night upon the moor.I was wondering if there were any evidence of such a soundto-night."

  "We heard nothing of the kind," said I.

  "And what is your theory of this poor fellow's death?"

  "I have no doubt that anxiety and exposure have driven him offhis head. He has rushed about the moor in a crazy state andeventually fallen over here and broken his neck."

  "That seems the most reasonable theory," said Stapleton, and hegave a sigh which I took to indicate his relief. "What do youthink about it, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

  My friend bowed his compliments.

  "You are quick at identification," said he.

  "We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watson camedown. You are in time to see a tragedy."

  "Yes, indeed. I have no doubt that my friend's explanation willcover the facts. I will take an unpleasant remembrance back toLondon with me to-morrow."

  "Oh, you return to-morrow?"

  "That is my intention."

  "I hope your visit has cast some light upon those occurrenceswhich have puzzled us?"

  Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

  "One cannot always have the success for which one hopes. Aninvestigator needs facts, and not legends or rumours. It has notbeen a satisfactory case."

  My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner.Stapleton still looked hard at him. Then he turned to me.

  "I would suggest carrying this poor fellow to my house, but itwould give my sister such a fright that I do not feel justifiedin doing it. I think that if we put something over his face hewill be safe until morning."

  And so it was arranged. Resisting Stapleton's offer ofhospitality, Holmes and I set off to Baskerville Hall, leavingthe naturalist to return alone. Looking back we saw the figuremoving slowly away over the broad moor, and behind him that oneblack smudge on the silvered slope which showed where the man waslying who had come so horribly to his end.