The Hound of the Baskervilles Page 3

  Chapter 3

  The Problem

  I confess at these words a shudder passed through me. There was athrill in the doctor's voice which showed that he was himselfdeeply moved by that which he told us. Holmes leaned forward inhis excitement and his eyes had the hard, dry glitter which shotfrom them when he was keenly interested.

  "You saw this?"

  "As clearly as I see you."

  "And you said nothing?"

  "What was the use?"

  "How was it that no one else saw it?"

  "The marks were some twenty yards from the body and no one gavethem a thought. I don't suppose I should have done so had I notknown this legend."

  "There are many sheep-dogs on the moor?"

  "No doubt, but this was no sheep-dog."

  "You say it was large?"

  "Enormous."

  "But it had not approached the body?"

  "No."

  "What sort of night was it?'

  "Damp and raw."

  "But not actually raining?"

  "No."

  "What is the Alley like?"

  "There are two lines of old yew hedge, twelve feet high andimpenetrable. The walk in the centre is about eight feet across."

  "Is there anything between the hedges and the walk?"

  "Yes, there is a strip of grass about six feet broad on eitherside."

  "I understand that the yew hedge is penetrated at one point by agate?"

  "Yes, the wicket-gate which leads on to the moor."

  "Is there any other opening?"

  "None."

  "So that to reach the Yew Alley one either has to come down itfrom the house or else to enter it by the moor-gate?"

  "There is an exit through a summer-house at the far end."

  "Had Sir Charles reached this?"

  "No; he lay about fifty yards from it."

  "Now, tell me, Dr. Mortimer--and this is important--themarks which you saw were on the path and not on the grass?"

  "No marks could show on the grass."

  "Were they on the same side of the path as the moor-gate?"

  "Yes; they were on the edge of the path on the same side as themoor-gate."

  "You interest me exceedingly. Another point. Was the wicket-gateclosed?"

  "Closed and padlocked."

  "How high was it?"

  "About four feet high."

  "Then anyone could have got over it?"

  "Yes."

  "And what marks did you see by the wicket-gate?"

  "None in particular."

  "Good heaven! Did no one examine?"

  "Yes, I examined myself."

  "And found nothing?"

  "It was all very confused. Sir Charles had evidently stood therefor five or ten minutes."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because the ash had twice dropped from his cigar."

  "Excellent! This is a colleague, Watson, after our own heart. Butthe marks?"

  "He had left his own marks all over that small patch of gravel. Icould discern no others."

  Sherlock Holmes struck his hand against his knee with animpatient gesture.

  "If I had only been there!" he cried. "It is evidently a case ofextraordinary interest, and one which presented immenseopportunities to the scientific expert. That gravel page uponwhich I might have read so much has been long ere this smudged bythe rain and defaced by the clogs of curious peasants. Oh, Dr.Mortimer, Dr. Mortimer, to think that you should not have calledme in! You have indeed much to answer for."

  "I could not call you in, Mr. Holmes, without disclosing thesefacts to the world, and I have already given my reasons for notwishing to do so. Besides, besides --"

  "Why do you hesitate?"

  "There is a realm in which the most acute and most experienced ofdetectives is helpless."

  "You mean that the thing is supernatural?"

  "I did not positively say so."

  "No, but you evidently think it."

  "Since the tragedy, Mr. Holmes, there have come to my earsseveral incidents which are hard to reconcile with the settledorder of Nature."

  "For example?"

  "I find that before the terrible event occurred several peoplehad seen a creature upon the moor which corresponds with thisBaskerville demon, and which could not possibly be any animalknown to science. They all agreed that it was a huge creature,luminous, ghastly, and spectral. I have cross-examined these men,one of them a hard-headed countryman, one a farrier, and one amoorland farmer, who all tell the same story of this dreadfulapparition, exactly corresponding to the hell-hound of thelegend. I assure you that there is a reign of terror in thedistrict, and that it is a hardy man who will cross the moor atnight."

  "And you, a trained man of science, believe it to besupernatural?"

  "I do not know what to believe."

  Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

  "I have hitherto confined my investigations to this world," saidhe. "In a modest way I have combated evil, but to take on theFather of Evil himself would, perhaps, be too ambitious a task.Yet you must admit that the footmark is material."

  "The original hound was material enough to tug a man's throatout, and yet he was diabolical as well."

  "I see that you have quite gone over to the supernaturalists. Butnow, Dr. Mortimer, tell me this. If you hold these views, whyhave you come to consult me at all? You tell me in the samebreath that it is useless to investigate Sir Charles's death, andthat you desire me to do it."

  "I did not say that I desired you to do it."

  "Then, how can I assist you?"

  "By advising me as to what I should do with Sir HenryBaskerville, who arrives at Waterloo Station"--Dr. Mortimerlooked at his watch--"in exactly one hour and a quarter."

  "He being the heir?"

  "Yes. On the death of Sir Charles we inquired for this younggentleman and found that he had been farming in Canada. From theaccounts which have reached us he is an excellent fellow in everyway. I speak not as a medical man but as a trustee and executorof Sir Charles's will."

  "There is no other claimant, I presume?"

  "None. The only other kinsman whom we have been able to trace wasRodger Baskerville, the youngest of three brothers of whom poorSir Charles was the elder. The second brother, who died young, isthe father of this lad Henry. The third, Rodger, was the blacksheep of the family. He came of the old masterful Baskervillestrain, and was the very image, they tell me, of the familypicture of old Hugo. He made England too hot to hold him, fled toCentral America, and died there in 1876 of yellow fever. Henry isthe last of the Baskervilles. In one hour and five minutes I meethim at Waterloo Station. I have had a wire that he arrived atSouthampton this morning. Now, Mr. Holmes, what would you adviseme to do with him?"

  "Why should he not go to the home of his fathers?"

  "It seems natural, does it not? And yet, consider that everyBaskerville who goes there meets with an evil fate. I feel surethat if Sir Charles could have spoken with me before his death hewould have warned me against bringing this, the last of the oldrace, and the heir to great wealth, to that deadly place. And yetit cannot be denied that the prosperity of the whole poor, bleakcountry-side depends upon his presence. All the good work whichhas been done by Sir Charles will crash to the ground if there isno tenant of the Hall. I fear lest I should be swayed too much bymy own obvious interest in the matter, and that is why I bringthe case before you and ask for your advice."

  Holmes considered for a little time.

  "Put into plain words, the matter is this," said he. "In youropinion there is a diabolical agency which makes Dartmoor anunsafe abode for a Baskerville--that is your opinion?"

  "At least I might go the length of saying that there is someevidence that this may be so."

  "Exactly. But surely, if your supernatural theory be correct, itcould work the young man evil in London as easily as inDevonshire. A devil with merely local powers like a parishvestry would be too inconceivable a thing."

  "You put the matter mo
re flippantly, Mr. Holmes, than you wouldprobably do if you were brought into personal contact with thesethings. Your advice, then, as I understand it, is that the youngman will be as safe in Devonshire as in London. He comes in fiftyminutes. What would you recommend?"

  "I recommend, sir, that you take a cab, call off your spaniel whois scratching at my front door, and proceed to Waterloo to meetSir Henry Baskerville."

  "And then?"

  "And then you will say nothing to him at all until I have made upmy mind about the matter."

  "How long will it take you to make up your mind?"

  "Twenty-four hours. At ten o'clock to-morrow, Dr. Mortimer, Iwill be much obliged to you if you will call upon me here, and itwill be of help to me in my plans for the future if you willbring Sir Henry Baskerville with you."

  "I will do so, Mr. Holmes." He scribbled the appointment on hisshirtcuff and hurried off in his strange, peering, absent-mindedfashion. Holmes stopped him at the head of the stair.

  "Only one more question, Dr. Mortimer. You say that before SirCharles Baskerville's death several people saw this apparitionupon the moor?"

  "Three people did."

  "Did any see it after?"

  "I have not heard of any."

  "Thank you. Good morning."

  Holmes returned to his seat with that quiet look of inwardsatisfaction which meant that he had a congenial task before him.

  "Going out, Watson?"

  "Unless I can help you."

  "No, my dear fellow, it is at the hour of action that I turn toyou for aid. But this is splendid, really unique from some pointsof view. When you pass Bradley's, would you ask him to send up apound of the strongest shag tobacco? Thank you. It would be aswell if you could make it convenient not to return beforeevening. Then I should be very glad to compare impressions as tothis most interesting problem which has been submitted to us thismorning."

  I knew that seclusion and solitude were very necessary for myfriend in those hours of intense mental concentration duringwhich he weighed every particle of evidence, constructedalternative theories, balanced one against the other, and made uphis mind as to which points were essential and which immaterial.I therefore spent the day at my club and did not return to BakerStreet until evening. It was nearly nine o'clock when I foundmyself in the sitting-room once more.

  My first impression as I opened the door was that a fire hadbroken out, for the room was so filled with smoke that the lightof the lamp upon the table was blurred by it. As I entered,however, my fears were set at rest, for it was the acrid fumes ofstrong coarse tobacco which took me by the throat and set mecoughing. Through the haze I had a vague vision of Holmes in hisdressing-gown coiled up in an armchair with his black clay pipebetween his lips. Several rolls of paper lay around him.

  "Caught cold, Watson?" said he.

  "No, it's this poisonous atmosphere."

  "I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you mention it."

  "Thick! It is intolerable."

  "Open the window, then! You have been at your club all day, Iperceive."

  "My dear Holmes!"

  "Am I right?"

  "Certainly, but how?"

  He laughed at my bewildered expression.

  "There is a delightful freshness about you, Watson, which makesit a pleasure to exercise any small powers which I possess atyour expense. A gentleman goes forth on a showery and miry day.He returns immaculate in the evening with the gloss still on hishat and his boots. He has been a fixture therefore all day. He isnot a man with intimate friends. Where, then, could he have been?Is it not obvious?"

  "Well, it is rather obvious."

  "The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chanceever observes. Where do you think that I have been?"

  "A fixture also."

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

  "In spirit?"

  "Exactly. My body has remained in this arm-chair and has, Iregret to observe, consumed in my absence two large pots ofcoffee and an incredible amount of tobacco. After you left I sentdown to Stamford's for the Ordnance map of this portion of themoor, and my spirit has hovered over it all day. I flatter myselfthat I could find my way about."

  "A large scale map, I presume?"

  "Very large." He unrolled one section and held it over his knee."Here you have the particular district which concerns us. That isBaskerville Hall in the middle."

  "With a wood round it?"

  "Exactly. I fancy the Yew Alley, though not marked under thatname, must stretch along this line, with the moor, as youperceive, upon the right of it. This small clump of buildingshere is the hamlet of Grimpen, where our friend Dr. Mortimer hashis headquarters. Within a radius of five miles there are, as yousee, only a very few scattered dwellings. Here is Lafter Hall,which was mentioned in the narrative. There is a house indicatedhere which may be the residence of the naturalist--Stapleton, ifI remember right, was his name. Here are two moorlandfarm-houses, High Tor and Foulmire. Then fourteen miles away thegreat convict prison of Princetown. Between and around thesescattered points extends the desolate, lifeless moor. This, then,is the stage upon which tragedy has been played, and upon whichwe may help to play it again."

  "It must be a wild place."

  "Yes, the setting is a worthy one. If the devil did desire tohave a hand in the affairs of men ----"

  "Then you are yourself inclining to the supernaturalexplanation."

  "The devil's agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not?There are two questions waiting for us at the outset. The one iswhether any crime has been committed at all; the second is, whatis the crime and how was it committed? Of course, if Dr.Mortimer's surmise should be correct, and we are dealing withforces outside the ordinary laws of Nature, there is an end ofour investigation. But we are bound to exhaust all otherhypotheses before falling back upon this one. I think we'll shutthat window again, if you don't mind. It is a singular thing, butI find that a concentrated atmosphere helps a concentration ofthought. I have not pushed it to the length of getting into a boxto think, but that is the logical outcome of my convictions. Haveyou turned the case over in your mind?"

  "Yes, I have thought a good deal of it in the course of the day."

  "What do you make of it?"

  "It is very bewildering."

  "It has certainly a character of its own. There are points ofdistinction about it. That change in the footprints, for example.What do you make of that?"

  "Mortimer said that the man had walked on tiptoe down thatportion of the alley."

  "He only repeated what some fool had said at the inquest. Whyshould a man walk on tiptoe down the alley?"

  "What then?"

  "He was running, Watson--running desperately, running for hislife, running until he burst his heart and fell dead upon hisface."

  "Running from what?"

  "There lies our problem. There are indications that the man wascrazed with fear before ever he began to run."

  "How can you say that?"

  "I am presuming that the cause of his fears came to him acrossthe moor. If that were so, and it seems most probable, only a manwho had lost his wits would have run from the house instead oftowards it. If the gipsy's evidence may be taken as true, he ranwith cries for help in the direction where help was least likelyto be. Then, again, whom was he waiting for that night, and whywas he waiting for him in the Yew Alley rather than in his ownhouse?"

  "You think that he was waiting for someone?"

  "The man was elderly and infirm. We can understand his taking anevening stroll, but the ground was damp and the night inclement.Is it natural that he should stand for five or ten minutes, asDr. Mortimer, with more practical sense than I should have givenhim credit for, deduced from the cigar ash?"

  "But he went out every evening."

  "I think it unlikely that he waited at the moor-gate everyevening. On the contrary, the evidence is that he avoided themoor. That night he waited there. It was the night before he madehis departure for London. The th
ing takes shape, Watson. Itbecomes coherent. Might I ask you to hand me my violin, and wewill postpone all further thought upon this business until wehave had the advantage of meeting Dr. Mortimer and Sir HenryBaskerville in the morning."