The Hound of the Baskervilles Read online

  Chapter 2

  The Curse of the Baskervilles

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

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

  "It is an old manuscript."

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

  "How can you say that, sir?"

  "You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination allthe time that you have been talking. It would be a poor expertwho 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."

  "The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer drew it from hisbreast-pocket. "This family paper was committed to my care by SirCharles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic death some threemonths ago created so much excitement in Devonshire. I may saythat I was his personal friend as well as his medical attendant.He was a strong-minded man, sir, shrewd, practical, and asunimaginative as I am myself. Yet he took this document veryseriously, and his mind was prepared for just such an end as dideventually overtake him."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have beenmany statements, yet as I come in a direct line from HugoBaskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also hadit from his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurredeven as is here set forth. And I would have you believe, my sons,that the same Justice which punishes sin may also most graciouslyforgive it, and that no ban is so heavy but that by prayer andrepentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story not tofear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in thefuture, that those foul passions whereby our family has sufferedso grievously may not again be loosed to our undoing.

  "Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the historyof which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commendto your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo ofthat name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild,profane, and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours mighthave pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in thoseparts, but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humourwhich made his name a byword through the West. It chanced thatthis Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may beknown under so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who heldlands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, beingdiscreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for shefeared his evil name. So it came to pass that one Michaelmasthis Hugo, with five or six of his idle and wicked companions,stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, her fatherand brothers being from home, as he well knew. When they hadbrought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upperchamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse,as was their nightly custom. Now, the poor lass upstairs was liketo have her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terribleoaths which came up to her from below, for they say that thewords used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in wine, were such asmight blast the man who said them. At last in the stress of herfear she did that which might have daunted the bravest or mostactive man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered(and still covers) the south wall she came down from under theeaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leaguesbetwixt the Hall and her father's farm.

  "It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests tocarry food and drink--with other worse things, perchance--to hiscaptive, 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 thegreat table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and hecried aloud before all the company that he would that very nightrender his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he might butovertake the wench. And while the revellers stood aghast at thefury of the man, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken thanthe rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her.Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that theyshould saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving thehounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, andso off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.

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

  "They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the nightshepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if hehad seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazedwith fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that hehad indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon hertrack. 'But I have seen more than that,' said he, 'for HugoBaskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mutebehind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be atmy heels.' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rodeonward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came agalloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with whitefroth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then therevellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, butthey still followed over the moor, though each, had he beenalone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse'shead. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon thehounds. 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, withstarting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valleybefore them.

  "The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you mayguess, than when they started. The most of them would by no meansadvance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the mostdrunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broadspace in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seenthere, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days ofold. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there inthe centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead offear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, noryet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her,which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevilroysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking athis throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast,shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortaleye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore thethroat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned itsblazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked withfear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor.One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, andthe other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days.
/>
  "Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which issaid to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. If I haveset it down it is because that which is clearly known hath lessterror than that which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can itbe denied that many of the family have been unhappy in theirdeaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Yet maywe shelter ourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence,which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third orfourth generation which is threatened in Holy Writ. To thatProvidence, my sons, I hereby commend you, and I counsel you byway of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those darkhours when the powers of evil are exalted.

  "[This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, withinstructions that they say nothing thereof to their sisterElizabeth.]"

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

  "Well?" said he.

  "Do you not find it interesting?"

  "To a collector of fairy tales."

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

  "Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little morerecent. This is the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of thisyear. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death ofSir Charles Baskerville which occurred a few days before thatdate."

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

  "The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose namehas been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate forMid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county.Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for acomparatively short period his amiability of character andextreme generosity had won the affection and respect of all whohad been brought into contact with him. In these days of _nouveauxriches_ it is refreshing to find a case where the scion of an oldcounty family which has fallen upon evil days is able to make hisown fortune and to bring it back with him to restore the fallengrandeur of his line. Sir Charles, as is well known, made largesums of money in South African speculation. More wise than thosewho go on until the wheel turns against them, he realized hisgains and returned to England with them. It is only two yearssince he took up his residence at Baskerville Hall, and it iscommon talk how large were those schemes of reconstruction andimprovement which have been interrupted by his death. Beinghimself childless, it was his openly expressed desire that thewhole country-side should, within his own lifetime, profit by hisgood fortune, and many will have personal reasons for bewailinghis untimely end. His generous donations to local and countycharities have been frequently chronicled in these columns.

  "The circumstances connected with the death of Sir Charlescannot be said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest,but at least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours towhich local superstition has given rise. There is no reasonwhatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could befrom any but natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and a manwho may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habitof mind. In spite of his considerable wealth he was simple in hispersonal tastes, and his indoor servants at Baskerville Hallconsisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband actingas butler and the wife as housekeeper. Their evidence,corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that SirCharles's health has for some time been impaired, and pointsespecially to some affection of the heart, manifesting itself inchanges of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervousdepression. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and medical attendantof the deceased, has given evidence to the same effect.

  "The facts of the case are simple. Sir Charles Baskerville was inthe habit every night before going to bed of walking down thefamous Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of theBarrymores shows that this had been his custom. On the 4th of MaySir Charles had declared his intention of starting next day forLondon, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. Thatnight he went out as usual for his nocturnal walk, in the courseof which he was in the habit of smoking a cigar. He neverreturned. At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall doorstill open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went insearch of his master. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles'sfootmarks were easily traced down the Alley. Half-way down thiswalk there is a gate which leads out on to the moor. There wereindications that Sir Charles had stood for some little time here.He then proceeded down the Alley, and it was at the far end of itthat his body was discovered. One fact which has not beenexplained is the statement of Barrymore that his master'sfootprints altered their character from the time that he passedthe moor-gate, and that he appeared from thence onward to havebeen walking upon his toes. One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, wason the moor at no great distance at the time, but he appears byhis own confession to have been the worse for drink. He declaresthat he heard cries, but is unable to state from whatdirection they came. No signs of violence were to be discoveredupon Sir Charles's person, and though the doctor's evidencepointed to an almost incredible facial distortion--so great thatDr. Mortimer refused at first to believe that it was indeed hisfriend and patient who lay before him--it was explained that thatis a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and deathfrom cardiac exhaustion. This explanation was borne out by thepost-mortem examination, which showed long-standing organicdisease, and the coroner's jury returned a verdict in accordancewith the medical evidence. It is well that this is so, for it isobviously of the utmost importance that Sir Charles's heir shouldsettle at the Hall and continue the good work which has been sosadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner notfinally put an end to the romantic stories which have beenwhispered in connection with the affair, it might have beendifficult to find a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understoodthat the next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be stillalive, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. Theyoung man when last heard of was in America, and inquiries arebeing instituted with a view to informing him of his goodfortune."

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

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

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

  "It does."

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

  "In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs ofsome strong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confidedto anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner'sinquiry is that a man of science shrinks from placing himself inthe public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition.I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the papersays, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done toincrease its already rather grim reputation. For both thesereasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather lessthan I knew, since no practical good could result from it, butwith you there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank.

  "The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live neareach other are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw agood 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. SirCharles was a retiring man, but the chance of his illness broughtus together, and a community of interests in science kept us so.He had brought back much scientific information from SouthAfrica, and many a charming evening we have spent togetherdiscussing the comparative anatomy
of the Bushman and theHottentot.

  "Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to methat Sir Charles's nervous system was strained to the breakingpoint. He had taken this legend which I have read you exceedinglyto heart--so much so that, although he would walk in his owngrounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor atnight. Incredible as it may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he washonestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhung his family, andcertainly the records which he was able to give of his ancestorswere not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presenceconstantly haunted him, and on more than one occasion he hasasked me whether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seenany strange creature or heard the baying of a hound. The latterquestion he put to me several times, and always with a voicewhich vibrated with excitement.

  "I can well remember driving up to his house in the evening somethree weeks before the fatal event. He chanced to be at his halldoor. I had descended from my gig and was standing in front ofhim, when I saw his eyes fix themselves over my shoulder, andstare past me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. Iwhisked round and had just time to catch a glimpse of somethingwhich I took to be a large black calf passing at the head of thedrive. So excited and alarmed was he that I was compelled to godown to the spot where the animal had been and look around forit. It was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make theworst impression upon his mind. I stayed with him all theevening, and it was on that occasion, to explain the emotionwhich he had shown, that he confided to my keeping that narrativewhich I read to you when first I came. I mention this smallepisode because it assumes some importance in view of the tragedywhich followed, but I was convinced at the time that the matterwas entirely trivial and that his excitement had nojustification.

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

  "On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler, whomade the discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me,and as I was sitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hallwithin an hour of the event. I checked and corroborated all thefacts which were mentioned at the inquest. I followed thefootsteps down the Yew Alley, I saw the spot at the moor-gatewhere he seemed to have waited, I remarked the change in theshape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were noother footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, andfinally I carefully examined the body, which had not been toucheduntil my arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, hisfingers dug into the ground, and his features convulsed with somestrong emotion to such an extent that I could hardly have swornto his identity. There was certainly no physical injury of anykind. But one false statement was made by Barrymore at theinquest. He said that there were no traces upon the ground roundthe body. He did not observe any. But I did--some little distanceoff, but fresh and clear."

  "Footprints?"

  "Footprints."

  "A man's or a woman's?"

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

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