The Hound of the Baskervilles Read online

  Chapter 5

  Three Broken Threads

  Sherlock Holmes had, in a very remarkable degree, the power ofdetaching his mind at will. For two hours the strange business inwhich we had been involved appeared to be forgotten, and he wasentirely absorbed in the pictures of the modern Belgian masters.He would talk of nothing but art, of which he had the crudestideas, from our leaving the gallery until we found ourselves atthe Northumberland Hotel.

  "Sir Henry Baskerville is upstairs expecting you," said theclerk. "He asked me to show you up at once when you came."

  "Have you any objection to my looking at your register?" saidHolmes.

  "Not in the least."

  The book showed that two names had been added after that ofBaskerville. One was Theophilus Johnson and family, of Newcastle;the other Mrs. Oldmore and maid, of High Lodge, Alton.

  "Surely that must be the same Johnson whom I used to know," saidHolmes to the porter. "A lawyer, is he not, gray-headed, andwalks with a limp?"

  "No, sir; this is Mr. Johnson, the coal-owner, a very activegentleman, not older than yourself."

  "Surely you are mistaken about his trade?"

  "No, sir! he has used this hotel for many years, and he is verywell known to us."

  "Ah, that settles it. Mrs. Oldmore, too; I seem to remember thename. Excuse my curiosity, but often in calling upon one friendone finds another."

  "She is an invalid lady, sir. Her husband was once mayor ofGloucester. She always comes to us when she is in town."

  "Thank you; I am afraid I cannot claim her acquaintance. We haveestablished a most important fact by these questions, Watson," hecontinued in a low voice as we went upstairs together. "We knownow that the people who are so interested in our friend have notsettled down in his own hotel. That means that while they are, aswe have seen, very anxious to watch him, they are equally anxiousthat he should not see them. Now, this is a most suggestivefact."

  "What does it suggest?"

  "It suggests--halloa, my dear fellow, what on earth is thematter?"

  As we came round the top of the stairs we had run up against SirHenry Baskerville himself. His face was flushed with anger, andhe held an old and dusty boot in one of his hands. So furious washe that he was hardly articulate, and when he did speak it was ina much broader and more Western dialect than any which we hadheard from him in the morning.

  "Seems to me they are playing me for a sucker in this hotel," hecried. "They'll find they've started in to monkey with the wrongman unless they are careful. By thunder, if that chap can't findmy missing boot there will be trouble. I can take a joke with thebest, Mr. Holmes, but they've got a bit over the mark this time."

  "Still looking for your boot?"

  "Yes, sir, and mean to find it."

  "But, surely, you said that it was a new brown boot?"

  "So it was, sir. And now it's an old black one."

  "What! you don't mean to say----?"

  "That's just what I do mean to say. I only had three pairs in theworld--the new brown, the old black, and the patent leathers,which I am wearing. Last night they took one of my brown ones,and to-day they have sneaked one of the black. Well, have you gotit? Speak out, man, and don't stand staring!"

  An agitated German waiter had appeared upon the scene.

  "No, sir; I have made inquiry all over the hotel, but I can hearno word of it."

  "Well, either that boot comes back before sundown or I'll see themanager and tell him that I go right straight out of this hotel."

  "It shall be found, sir--I promise you that if you will have alittle patience it will be found."

  "Mind it is, for it's the last thing of mine that I'll lose inthis den of thieves. Well, well, Mr. Holmes, you'll excuse mytroubling you about such a trifle----"

  "I think it's well worth troubling about."

  "Why, you look very serious over it."

  "How do you explain it?"

  "I just don't attempt to explain it. It seems the very maddest,queerest thing that ever happened to me."

  "The queerest perhaps----" said Holmes, thoughtfully.

  "What do you make of it yourself?"

  "Well, I don't profess to understand it yet. This case of yoursis very complex, Sir Henry. When taken in conjunction with youruncle's death I am not sure that of all the five hundred cases ofcapital importance which I have handled there is one which cutsso deep. But we hold several threads in our hands, and the oddsare that one or other of them guides us to the truth. We maywaste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later wemust come upon the right."

  We had a pleasant luncheon in which little was said of thebusiness which had brought us together. It was in the privatesitting-room to which we afterwards repaired that Holmes askedBaskerville what were his intentions.

  "To go to Baskerville Hall."

  "And when?"

  "At the end of the week."

  "On the whole," said Holmes, "I think that your decision is awise one. I have ample evidence that you are being dogged inLondon, and amid the millions of this great city it is difficultto discover who these people are or what their object can be. Iftheir intentions are evil they might do you a mischief, and weshould be powerless to prevent it. You did not know, Dr. Mortimer,that you were followed this morning from my house?"

  Dr. Mortimer started violently.

  "Followed! By whom?"

  "That, unfortunately, is what I cannot tell you. Have you amongyour neighbours or acquaintances on Dartmoor any man with ablack, full beard?"

  "No--or, let me see--why, yes. Barrymore, Sir Charles's butler,is a man with a full, black beard."

  "Ha! Where is Barrymore?"

  "He is in charge of the Hall."

  "We had best ascertain if he is really there, or if by anypossibility he might be in London."

  "How can you do that?"

  "Give me a telegraph form. 'Is all ready for Sir Henry?' Thatwill do. Address to Mr. Barrymore, Baskerville Hall. What is thenearest telegraph-office? Grimpen. Very good, we will send asecond wire to the postmaster, Grimpen: 'Telegram to Mr.Barrymore to be delivered into his own hand. If absent, pleasereturn wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel.' Thatshould let us know before evening whether Barrymore is at hispost in Devonshire or not."

  "That's so," said Baskerville. "By the way, Dr. Mortimer, who isthis Barrymore, anyhow?"

  "He is the son of the old caretaker, who is dead. They havelooked after the Hall for four generations now. So far as I know,he and his wife are as respectable a couple as any in thecounty."

  "At the same time," said Baskerville, "it's clear enough that solong as there are none of the family at the Hall these peoplehave a mighty fine home and nothing to do."

  "That is true."

  "Did Barrymore profit at all by Sir Charles's will?" askedHolmes.

  "He and his wife had five hundred pounds each."

  "Ha! Did they know that they would receive this?"

  "Yes; Sir Charles was very fond of talking about the provisionsof his will."

  "That is very interesting."

  "I hope," said Dr. Mortimer, "that you do not look withsuspicious eyes upon everyone who received a legacy from SirCharles, for I also had a thousand pounds left to me."

  "Indeed! And anyone else?"

  "There were many insignificant sums to individuals, and a largenumber of public charities. The residue all went to Sir Henry."

  "And how much was the residue?"

  "Seven hundred and forty thousand pounds."

  Holmes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I had no idea that sogigantic a sum was involved," said he.

  "Sir Charles had the reputation of being rich, but we did notknow how very rich he was until we came to examine hissecurities. The total value of the estate was close on to amillion."

  "Dear me! It is a stake for which a man might well play adesperate game. And one more question, Dr. Mortimer. Supposingthat anything happened to our young friend here--you will forgivethe unpleasant hypothesis!--wh
o would inherit the estate?"

  "Since Rodger Baskerville, Sir Charles's younger brother diedunmarried, the estate would descend to the Desmonds, who aredistant cousins. James Desmond is an elderly clergyman inWestmoreland."

  "Thank you. These details are all of great interest. Have you metMr. James Desmond?"

  "Yes; he once came down to visit Sir Charles. He is a man ofvenerable appearance and of saintly life. I remember that herefused to accept any settlement from Sir Charles, though hepressed it upon him."

  "And this man of simple tastes would be the heir to Sir Charles'sthousands."

  "He would be the heir to the estate because that is entailed. Hewould also be the heir to the money unless it were willedotherwise by the present owner, who can, of course, do what helikes with it."

  "And have you made your will, Sir Henry?"

  "No, Mr. Holmes, I have not. I've had no time, for it was onlyyesterday that I learned how matters stood. But in any case Ifeel that the money should go with the title and estate. That wasmy poor uncle's idea. How is the owner going to restore theglories of the Baskervilles if he has not money enough to keep upthe property? House, land, and dollars must go together."

  "Quite so. Well, Sir Henry, I am of one mind with you as to theadvisability of your going down to Devonshire without delay.There is only one provision which I must make. You certainly mustnot go alone."

  "Dr. Mortimer returns with me."

  "But Dr. Mortimer has his practice to attend to, and his house ismiles away from yours. With all the good will in the world he maybe unable to help you. No, Sir Henry, you must take with yousomeone, a trusty man, who will be always by your side."

  "Is it possible that you could come yourself, Mr. Holmes?"

  "If matters came to a crisis I should endeavour to be present inperson; but you can understand that, with my extensive consultingpractice and with the constant appeals which reach me from manyquarters, it is impossible for me to be absent from London for anindefinite time. At the present instant one of the most reverednames in England is being besmirched by a blackmailer, and only Ican stop a disastrous scandal. You will see how impossible it isfor me to go to Dartmoor."

  "Whom would you recommend, then?"

  Holmes laid his hand upon my arm.

  "If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is betterworth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No onecan say so more confidently than I."

  The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I hadtime to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung itheartily.

  "Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "Yousee how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matteras I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see methrough I'll never forget it."

  The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and Iwas complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness withwhich the baronet hailed me as a companion.

  "I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I couldemploy my time better."

  "And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When acrisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. Isuppose that by Saturday all might be ready?"

  "Would that suit Dr. Watson?"

  "Perfectly."

  "Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meetat the 10:30 train from Paddington."

  We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph,and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brownboot from under a cabinet.

  "My missing boot!" he cried.

  "May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said SherlockHolmes.

  "But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "Isearched this room carefully before lunch."

  "And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it."

  "There was certainly no boot in it then."

  "In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we werelunching."

  The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of thematter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had beenadded to that constant and apparently purposeless series of smallmysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Settingaside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a lineof inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days,which included the receipt of the printed letter, theblack-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot,the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the newbrown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back toBaker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face thathis mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame somescheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnectedepisodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the eveninghe sat lost in tobacco and thought.

  Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran:--

  "Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall.--BASKERVILLE."The second:--

  "Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to reportunable to trace cut sheet of Times.--CARTWRIGHT."

  "There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing morestimulating than a case where everything goes against you. Wemust cast round for another scent."

  "We have still the cabman who drove the spy."

  "Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from theOfficial Registry. I should not be surprised if this were ananswer to my question."

  The ring at the bell proved to be something even moresatisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and arough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself.

  "I got a message from the head office that a gent at this addresshad been inquiring for 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab thisseven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straightfrom the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me."

  "I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," saidHolmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if youwill give me a clear answer to my questions."

  "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman, witha grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?"

  "First of all your name and address, in case I want you again."

  "John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out ofShipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station."

  Sherlock Holmes made a note of it.

  "Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watchedthis house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followedthe two gentlemen down Regent Street."

  The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there'sno good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as Ido already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told methat he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about himto anyone."

  "My good fellow, this is a very serious business, and you mayfind yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hideanything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was adetective?"

  "Yes, he did."

  "When did he say this?"

  "When he left me."

  "Did he say anything more?"

  "He mentioned his name."

  Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentionedhis name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that hementioned?"

  "His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

  Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than bythe cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement.Then he burst into a hearty laugh.

  "A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foilas quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettilythat time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?"

  "Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name."

  "Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all thatoccurred."

  "He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said thathe was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would doexactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I wa
s gladenough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hoteland waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab fromthe rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere nearhere."

  "This very door," said Holmes.

  "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knewall about it. We pulled up half-way down the street and waited anhour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, andwe followed down Baker Street and along ----"

  "I know," said Holmes.

  "Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then mygentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should driveright away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whippedup the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paidup his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into thestation. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said:'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr.Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name."

  "I see. And you saw no more of him?"

  "Not after he went into the station."

  "And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

  The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether suchan easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age,and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter thanyou, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard,cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I couldsay more than that."

  "Colour of his eyes?"

  "No, I can't say that."

  "Nothing more that you can remember?"

  "No, sir; nothing."

  "Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another onewaiting for you if you can bring any more information. Goodnight!"

  "Good night, sir, and thank you!"

  John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with ashrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile.

  "Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he."The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir HenryBaskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street,conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay myhands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. Itell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy ofour steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish youbetter luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it."

  "About what?"

  "About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an uglydangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it.Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that Ishall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in BakerStreet once more."