The Hound of the Baskervilles Read online

  Chapter 9

  (Second Report of Dr. Watson)

  THE LIGHT UPON THE MOOR

  BASKERVILLE HALL, Oct. 15th.

  MY DEAR HOLMES,--If I was compelled to leave you without muchnews during the early days of my mission you must acknowledgethat I am making up for lost time, and that events are nowcrowding thick and fast upon us. In my last report I ended uponmy top note with Barrymore at the window, and now I have quite abudget already which will, unless I am much mistaken,considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I couldnot have anticipated. In some ways they have within the lastforty-eight hours become much clearer and in some ways they havebecome more complicated. But I will tell you all and you shalljudge for yourself.

  Before breakfast on the morning following my adventure I wentdown the corridor and examined the room in which Barrymore hadbeen on the night before. The western window through which he hadstared so intently has, I noticed, one peculiarity above allother windows in the house--it commands the nearest outlook onthe moor. There is an opening between two trees which enables onefrom this point of view to look right down upon it, while fromall the other windows it is only a distant glimpse which can beobtained. It follows, therefore, that Barrymore, since only thiswindow would serve the purpose, must have been looking out forsomething or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark, sothat I can hardly imagine how he could have hoped to see anyone.It had struck me that it was possible that some love intrigue wason foot. That would have accounted for his stealthy movements andalso for the uneasiness of his wife. The man is astriking-looking fellow, very well equipped to steal the heart ofa country girl, so that this theory seemed to have something tosupport it. That opening of the door which I had heard after Ihad returned to my room might mean that he had gone out to keepsome clandestine appointment. So I reasoned with myself in themorning, and I tell you the direction of my suspicions, howevermuch the result may have shown that they were unfounded.

  But whatever the true explanation of Barrymore's movements mightbe, I felt that the responsibility of keeping them to myselfuntil I could explain them was more than I could bear. I had aninterview with the baronet in his study after breakfast, and Itold him all that I had seen. He was less surprised than I hadexpected.

  "I knew that Barrymore walked about nights, and I had a mind tospeak to him about it," said he. "Two or three times I have heardhis steps in the passage, coming and going, just about the houryou name."

  "Perhaps then he pays a visit every night to that particularwindow," I suggested.

  "Perhaps he does. If so, we should be able to shadow him, and seewhat it is that he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmeswould do, if he were here."

  "I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest," saidI. "He would follow Barrymore and see what he did."

  "Then we shall do it together."

  "But surely he would hear us."

  "The man is rather deaf, and in any case we must take our chanceof that. We'll sit up in my room to-night and wait until hepasses." Sir Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it wasevident that he hailed the adventure as a relief to his somewhatquiet life upon the moor.

  The baronet has been in communication with the architect whoprepared the plans for Sir Charles, and with a contractor fromLondon, so that we may expect great changes to begin here soon.There have been decorators and furnishers up from Plymouth, andit is evident that our friend has large ideas, and means to spareno pains or expense to restore the grandeur of his family. Whenthe house is renovated and refurnished, all that he will needwill be a wife to make it complete. Between ourselves there arepretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if the lady iswilling, for I have seldom seen a man more infatuated with awoman than he is with our beautiful neighbour, Miss Stapleton.And yet the course of true love does not run quite as smoothly asone would under the circumstances expect. To-day, for example,its surface was broken by a very unexpected ripple, which hascaused our friend considerable perplexity and annoyance.

  After the conversation which I have quoted about Barrymore, SirHenry put on his hat and prepared to go out. As a matter ofcourse I did the same.

  "What, are you coming, Watson?" he asked, looking at me in acurious way.

  "That depends on whether you are going on the moor," said I.

  "Yes, I am."

  "Well, you know what my instructions are. I am sorry to intrude,but you heard how earnestly Holmes insisted that I should notleave you, and especially that you should not go alone upon themoor."

  Sir Henry put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasant smile.

  "My dear fellow," said he, "Holmes, with all his wisdom, did notforesee some things which have happened since I have been on themoor. You understand me? I am sure that you are the last man inthe world who would wish to be a spoil-sport. I must go outalone."

  It put me in a most awkward position. I was at a loss what to sayor what to do, and before I had made up my mind he picked up hiscane and was gone.

  But when I came to think the matter over my conscience reproachedme bitterly for having on any pretext allowed him to go out of mysight. I imagined what my feelings would be if I had to return toyou and to confess that some misfortune had occurred through mydisregard for your instructions. I assure you my cheeks flushedat the very thought. It might not even now be too late toovertake him, so I set off at once in the direction of MerripitHouse.

  I hurried along the road at the top of my speed without seeinganything of Sir Henry, until I came to the point where the moorpath branches off. There, fearing that perhaps I had come in thewrong direction after all, I mounted a hill from which I couldcommand a view--the same hill which is cut into the dark quarry.Thence I saw him at once. He was on the moor path, about aquarter of a mile off, and a lady was by his side who could onlybe Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there was already anunderstanding between them and that they had met by appointment.They were walking slowly along in deep conversation, and I sawher making quick little movements of her hands as if she werevery earnest in what she was saying, while he listened intently,and once or twice shook his head in strong dissent. I stood amongthe rocks watching them, very much puzzled as to what I should donext. To follow them and break into their intimate conversationseemed to be an outrage, and yet my clear duty was never for aninstant to let him out of my sight. To act the spy upon a friendwas a hateful task. Still, I could see no better course than toobserve him from the hill, and to clear my conscience byconfessing to him afterwards what I had done. It is true that ifany sudden danger had threatened him I was too far away to be ofuse, and yet I am sure that you will agree with me that theposition was very difficult, and that there was nothing morewhich I could do.

  Our friend, Sir Henry, and the lady had halted on the path andwere standing deeply absorbed in their conversation, when I wassuddenly aware that I was not the only witness of theirinterview. A wisp of green floating in the air caught my eye, andanother glance showed me that it was carried on a stick by a manwho was moving among the broken ground. It was Stapleton with hisbutterfly-net. He was very much closer to the pair than I was,and he appeared to be moving in their direction. At this instantSir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side. His arm wasround her, but it seemed to me that she was straining away fromhim with her face averted. He stooped his head to hers, and sheraised one hand as if in protest. Next moment I saw them springapart and turn hurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause of theinterruption. He was running wildly towards them, his absurd netdangling behind him. He gesticulated and almost danced withexcitement in front of the lovers. What the scene meant I couldnot imagine, but it seemed to me that Stapleton was abusing SirHenry, who offered explanations, which became more angry as theother refused to accept them. The lady stood by in haughtysilence. Finally Stapleton turned upon his heel and beckoned in aperemptory way to his sister, who, after an irresolute glance atSir Henry, walked off by the side of her brother. Thenaturalist's angry gestures showed that the lady was
included inhis displeasure. The baronet stood for a minute looking afterthem, and then he walked slowly back the way that he had come,his head hanging, the very picture of dejection.

  What all this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply ashamedto have witnessed so intimate a scene without my friend'sknowledge. I ran down the hill therefore and met the baronet atthe bottom. His face was flushed with anger and his brows werewrinkled, like one who is at his wit's ends what to do.

  "Halloa, Watson! Where have you dropped from?" said he. "You don'tmean to say that you came after me in spite of all?"

  I explained everything to him: how I had found it impossible toremain behind, how I had followed him, and how I had witnessedall that had occurred. For an instant his eyes blazed at me, butmy frankness disarmed his anger, and he broke at last into arather rueful laugh.

  "You would have thought the middle of that prairie a fairly safeplace for a man to be private," said he, "but, by thunder, thewhole country-side seems to have been out to see me do mywooing--and a mighty poor wooing at that! Where had you engaged aseat?"

  "I was on that hill."

  "Quite in the back row, eh? But her brother was well up to thefront. Did you see him come out on us?"

  "Yes, I did."

  "Did he ever strike you as being crazy--this brother of hers?"

  "I can't say that he ever did."

  "I dare say not. I always thought him sane enough until to-day,but you can take it from me that either he or I ought to be in astrait-jacket. What's the matter with me, anyhow? You've livednear me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Is thereanything that would prevent me from making a good husband to awoman that I loved?"

  "I should say not."

  "He can't object to my worldly position, so it must be myselfthat he has this down on. What has he against me? I never hurtman or woman in my life that I know of. And yet he would not somuch as let me touch the tips of her fingers."

  "Did he say so?"

  "That, and a deal more. I tell you, Watson, I've only known herthese few weeks, but from the first I just felt that she was madefor me, and she, too--she was happy when she was with me, andthat I'll swear. There's a light in a woman's eyes that speakslouder than words. But he has never let us get together, and itwas only to-day for the first time that I saw a chance of havinga few words with her alone. She was glad to meet me, but when shedid it was not love that she would talk about, and she wouldn'thave let me talk about it either if she could have stopped it.She kept coming back to it that this was a place of danger, andthat she would never be happy until I had left it. I told herthat since I had seen her I was in no hurry to leave it, and thatif she really wanted me to go, the only way to work it was forher to arrange to go with me. With that I offered in as manywords to marry her, but before she could answer, down came thisbrother of hers, running at us with a face on him like a madman.He was just white with rage, and those light eyes of his wereblazing with fury. What was I doing with the lady? How dared Ioffer her attentions which were distasteful to her? Did I thinkthat because I was a baronet I could do what I liked? If he hadnot been her brother I should have known better how to answerhim. As it was I told him that my feelings towards his sisterwere such as I was not ashamed of, and that I hoped that shemight honour me by becoming my wife. That seemed to make thematter no better, so then I lost my temper too, and I answeredhim rather more hotly than I should perhaps, considering that shewas standing by. So it ended by his going off with her, as yousaw, and here am I as badly puzzled a man as any in this county.Just tell me what it all means, Watson, and I'll owe you morethan ever I can hope to pay."

  I tried one or two explanations, but, indeed, I was completelypuzzled myself. Our friend's title, his fortune, his age, hischaracter, and his appearance are all in his favour, and I knownothing against him unless it be this dark fate which runs in hisfamily. That his advances should be rejected so brusquely withoutany reference to the lady's own wishes, and that the lady shouldaccept the situation without protest, is very amazing. However,our conjectures were set at rest by a visit from Stapletonhimself that very afternoon. He had come to offer apologies forhis rudeness of the morning, and after a long private interviewwith Sir Henry in his study, the upshot of their conversation wasthat the breach is quite healed, and that we are to dine atMerripit House next Friday as a sign of it.

  "I don't say now that he isn't a crazy man," said Sir Henry; "Ican't forget the look in his eyes when he ran at me this morning,but I must allow that no man could make a more handsome apologythan he has done."

  "Did he give any explanation of his conduct?"

  "His sister is everything in his life, he says. That is naturalenough, and I am glad that he should understand her value. Theyhave always been together, and according to his account he hasbeen a very lonely man with only her as a companion, so that thethought of losing her was really terrible to him. He had notunderstood, he said, that I was becoming attached to her, butwhen he saw with his own eyes that it was really so, and that shemight be taken away from him, it gave him such a shock that for atime he was not responsible for what he said or did. He was verysorry for all that had passed, and he recognized how foolish andhow selfish it was that he should imagine that he could hold abeautiful woman like his sister to himself for her whole life. Ifshe had to leave him he had rather it was to a neighbour likemyself than to anyone else. But in any case it was a blow to him,and it would take him some time before he could prepare himselfto meet it. He would withdraw all opposition upon his part if Iwould promise for three months to let the matter rest and to becontent with cultivating the lady's friendship during that timewithout claiming her love. This I promised, and so the matterrests."

  So there is one of our small mysteries cleared up. It issomething to have touched bottom anywhere in this bog in which weare floundering. We know now why Stapleton looked with disfavourupon his sister's suitor--even when that suitor was so eligible aone as Sir Henry. And now I pass on to another thread which Ihave extricated out of the tangled skein, the mystery of the sobsin the night, of the tear-stained face of Mrs. Barrymore, of thesecret journey of the butler to the western lattice window.Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have notdisappointed you as an agent--that you do not regret theconfidence which you showed in me when you sent me down. Allthese things have by one night's work been thoroughly cleared.

  I have said "by one night's work," but, in truth, it was by twonights' work, for on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat upwith Sir Henry in his rooms until nearly three o'clock in themorning, but no sound of any sort did we hear except the chimingclock upon the stairs. It was a most melancholy vigil, and endedby each of us falling asleep in our chairs. Fortunately we werenot discouraged, and we determined to try again. The next nightwe lowered the lamp, and sat smoking cigarettes without makingthe least sound. It was incredible how slowly the hours crawledby, and yet we were helped through it by the same sort of patientinterest which the hunter must feel as he watches the trap intowhich he hopes the game may wander. One struck, and two, and wehad almost for the second time given it up in despair, when in aninstant we both sat bolt upright in our chairs, with all ourweary senses keenly on the alert once more. We had heard thecreak of a step in the passage.

  Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in thedistance. Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set outin pursuit. Already our man had gone round the gallery, and thecorridor was all in darkness. Softly we stole along until we hadcome into the other wing. We were just in time to catch a glimpseof the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded, as hetip-toed down the passage. Then he passed through the same dooras before, and the light of the candle framed it in the darknessand shot one single yellow beam across the gloom of the corridor.We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank before wedared to put our whole weight upon it. We had taken theprecaution of leaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the oldboards snapped and creaked beneath our tread. Sometimes it seemedim
possible that he should fail to hear our approach. However, theman is fortunately rather deaf, and he was entirely preoccupiedin that which he was doing. When at last we reached the door andpeeped through we found him crouching at the window, candle inhand, his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly asI had seen him two nights before.

  We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is a man towhom the most direct way is always the most natural. He walkedinto the room, and as he did so Barrymore sprang up from thewindow with a sharp hiss of his breath and stood, livid andtrembling, before us. His dark eyes, glaring out of the whitemask of his face, were full of horror and astonishment as hegazed from Sir Henry to me.

  "What are you doing here, Barrymore?"

  "Nothing, sir." His agitation was so great that he could hardlyspeak, and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking of hiscandle. "It was the window, sir. I go round at night to see thatthey are fastened."

  "On the second floor?"

  "Yes, sir, all the windows."

  "Look here, Barrymore," said Sir Henry, sternly; "we have made upour minds to have the truth out of you, so it will save youtrouble to tell it sooner rather than later. Come, now! No lies!What were you doing at that window?"

  The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and he wrung his handstogether like one who is in the last extremity of doubt andmisery.

  "I was doing no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to the window."

  "And why were you holding a candle to the window?"

  "Don't ask me, Sir Henry--don't ask me! I give you my word, sir,that it is not my secret, and that I cannot tell it. If itconcerned no one but myself I would not try to keep it from you."

  A sudden idea occurred to me, and I took the candle from thetrembling hand of the butler.

  "He must have been holding it as a signal," said I. "Let us seeif there is any answer." I held it as he had done, and stared outinto the darkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern the blackbank of the trees and the lighter expanse of the moor, for themoon was behind the clouds. And then I gave a cry of exultation,for a tiny pin-point of yellow light had suddenly transfixed thedark veil, and glowed steadily in the centre of the black squareframed by the window.

  "There it is!" I cried.

  "No, no, sir, it is nothing--nothing at all!" the butler brokein; "I assure you, sir ----"

  "Move your light across the window, Watson!" cried the baronet."See, the other moves also! Now, you rascal, do you deny that itis a signal? Come, speak up! Who is your confederate out yonder,and what is this conspiracy that is going on?"

  The man's face became openly defiant.

  "It is my business, and not yours. I will not tell."

  "Then you leave my employment right away."

  "Very good, sir. If I must I must."

  "And you go in disgrace. By thunder, you may well be ashamed ofyourself. Your family has lived with mine for over a hundredyears under this roof, and here I find you deep in some dark plotagainst me."

  "No, no, sir; no, not against you!" It was a woman's voice, andMrs. Barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than her husband,was standing at the door. Her bulky figure in a shawl and skirtmight have been comic were it not for the intensity of feelingupon her face.

  "We have to go, Eliza. This is the end of it. You can pack ourthings," said the butler.

  "Oh, John, John, have I brought you to this? It is my doing, SirHenry--all mine. He has done nothing except for my sake andbecause I asked him."

  "Speak out, then! What does it mean?"

  "My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot let himperish at our very gates. The light is a signal to him that foodis ready for him, and his light out yonder is to show the spot towhich to bring it."

  "Then your brother is --"

  "The escaped convict, sir--Selden, the criminal."

  "That's the truth, sir," said Barrymore. "I said that it was notmy secret and that I could not tell it to you. But now you haveheard it, and you will see that if there was a plot it was notagainst you."

  This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions atnight and the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both stared atthe woman in amazement. Was it possible that this stolidlyrespectable person was of the same blood as one of the mostnotorious criminals in the country?

  "Yes, sir, my name was Selden, and he is my younger brother. Wehumoured him too much when he was a lad, and gave him his own wayin everything until he came to think that the world was made forhis pleasure, and that he could do what he liked in it. Then ashe grew older he met wicked companions, and the devil enteredinto him until he broke my mother's heart and dragged our name inthe dirt. From crime to crime he sank lower and lower, until itis only the mercy of God which has snatched him from thescaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the little curly-headedboy that I had nursed and played with, as an elder sister would.That was why he broke prison, sir. He knew that I was here andthat we could not refuse to help him. When he dragged himselfhere one night, weary and starving, with the warders hard at hisheels, what could we do? We took him in and fed him and cared forhim. Then you returned, sir, and my brother thought he would besafer on the moor than anywhere else until the hue and cry wasover, so he lay in hiding there. But every second night we madesure if he was still there by putting a light in the window, andif there was an answer my husband took out some bread and meat tohim. Every day we hoped that he was gone, but as long as he wasthere we could not desert him. That is the whole truth, as I aman honest Christian woman, and you will see that if there isblame in the matter it does not lie with my husband, but with me,for whose sake he has done all that he has."

  The woman's words came with an intense earnestness which carriedconviction with them.

  "Is this true, Barrymore?"

  "Yes, Sir Henry. Every word of it."

  "Well, I cannot blame you for standing by your own wife. Forgetwhat I have said. Go to your room, you two, and we shall talkfurther about this matter in the morning."

  When they were gone we looked out of the window again. Sir Henryhad flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in upon ourfaces. Far away in the black distance there still glowed that onetiny point of yellow light.

  "I wonder he dares," said Sir Henry.

  "It may be so placed as to be only visible from here."

  "Very likely. How far do you think it is?"

  "Out by the Cleft Tor, I think."

  "Not more than a mile or two off."

  "Hardly that."

  "Well, it cannot be far if Barrymore had to carry out the food toit. And he is waiting, this villain, beside that candle. Bythunder, Watson, I am going out to take that man!"

  The same thought had crossed my own mind. It was not as if theBarrymores had taken us into their confidence. Their secret hadbeen forced from them. The man was a danger to the community, anunmitigated scoundrel for whom there was neither pity nor excuse.We were only doing our duty in taking this chance of putting himback where he could do no harm. With his brutal and violentnature, others would have to pay the price if we held our hands.Any night, for example, our neighbours the Stapletons might beattacked by him, and it may have been the thought of this whichmade Sir Henry so keen upon the adventure.

  "I will come," said I.

  "Then get your revolver and put on your boots. The sooner westart the better, as the fellow may put out his light and beoff."

  In five minutes we were outside the door, starting upon ourexpedition. We hurried through the dark shrubbery, amid the dullmoaning of the autumn wind and the rustle of the falling leaves.The night air was heavy with the smell of damp and decay. Now andagain the moon peeped out for an instant, but clouds were drivingover the face of the sky, and just as we came out on the moor athin rain began to fall. The light still burned steadily infront.

  "Are you armed?" I asked.

  "I have a hunting-crop."

  "We must close in on him rapidly, for he is said to be adesperate fellow. We shall take him by surp
rise and have him atour mercy before he can resist."

  "I say, Watson," said the baronet, "what would Holmes say tothis? How about that hour of darkness in which the power of evilis exalted?"

  As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vastgloom of the moor that strange cry which I had already heard uponthe borders of the great Grimpen Mire. It came with the windthrough the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then arising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Againand again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident,wild, and menacing. The baronet caught my sleeve and his faceglimmered white through the darkness.

  "My God, what's that, Watson?"

  "I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor. I heard itonce before."

  It died away, and an absolute silence closed in upon us. We stoodstraining our ears, but nothing came.

  "Watson," said the baronet, "it was the cry of a hound."

  My blood ran cold in my veins, for there was a break in his voicewhich told of the sudden horror which had seized him.

  "What do they call this sound?" he asked.

  "Who?"

  "The folk on the country-side."

  "Oh, they are ignorant people. Why should you mind what they callit?"

  "Tell me, Watson. What do they say of it?"

  I hesitated but could not escape the question.

  "They say it is the cry of the Hound of the Baskervilles."

  He groaned and was silent for a few moments.

  "A hound it was," he said, at last, "but it seemed to come frommiles away, over yonder, I think."

  "It was hard to say whence it came."

  "It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't that the direction of thegreat Grimpen Mire?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "Well, it was up there. Come now, Watson, didn't you thinkyourself that it was the cry of a hound? I am not a child. Youneed not fear to speak the truth."

  "Stapleton was with me when I heard it last. He said that itmight be the calling of a strange bird."

  "No, no, it was a hound. My God, can there be some truth in allthese stories? Is it possible that I am really in danger from sodark a cause? You don't believe it, do you, Watson?"

  "No, no."

  "And yet it was one thing to laugh about it in London, and it isanother to stand out here in the darkness of the moor and to hearsuch a cry as that. And my uncle! There was the footprint of thehound beside him as he lay. It all fits together. I don't thinkthat I am a coward, Watson, but that sound seemed to freeze myvery blood. Feel my hand!"

  It was as cold as a block of marble.

  "You'll be all right to-morrow."

  "I don't think I'll get that cry out of my head. What do youadvise that we do now?"

  "Shall we turn back?"

  "No, by thunder; we have come out to get our man, and we will doit. We after the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely as not,after us. Come on! We'll see it through if all the fiends of thepit were loose upon the moor."

  We stumbled slowly along in the darkness, with the black loom ofthe craggy hills around us, and the yellow speck of light burningsteadily in front. There is nothing so deceptive as the distanceof a light upon a pitch-dark night, and sometimes the glimmerseemed to be far away upon the horizon and sometimes it mighthave been within a few yards of us. But at last we could seewhence it came, and then we knew that we were indeed very close.A guttering candle was stuck in a crevice of the rocks whichflanked it on each side so as to keep the wind from it and alsoto prevent it from being visible, save in the direction ofBaskerville Hall. A boulder of granite concealed our approach, andcrouching behind it we gazed over it at the signal light. It wasstrange to see this single candle burning there in the middle ofthe moor, with no sign of life near it--just the one straightyellow flame and the gleam of the rock on each side of it.

  "What shall we do now?" whispered Sir Henry.

  "Wait here. He must be near his light. Let us see if we can get aglimpse of him."

  The words were hardly out of my mouth when we both saw him. Overthe rocks, in the crevice of which the candle burned, there wasthrust out an evil yellow face, a terrible animal face, allseamed and scored with vile passions. Foul with mire, with abristling beard, and hung with matted hair, it might well havebelonged to one of those old savages who dwelt in the burrows onthe hillsides. The light beneath him was reflected in his small,cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right and left through thedarkness, like a crafty and savage animal who has heard the stepsof the hunters.

  Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It may have beenthat Barrymore had some private signal which we had neglected togive, or the fellow may have had some other reason for thinkingthat all was not well, but I could read his fears upon his wickedface. Any instant he might dash out the light and vanish in thedarkness. I sprang forward therefore, and Sir Henry did the same.At the same moment the convict screamed out a curse at us andhurled a rock which splintered up against the boulder which hadsheltered us. I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, strongly-built figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run. At thesame moment by a lucky chance the moon broke through the clouds.We rushed over the brow of the hill, and there was our manrunning with great speed down the other side, springing over thestones in his way with the activity of a mountain goat. A luckylong shot of my revolver might have crippled him, but I hadbrought it only to defend myself if attacked, and not to shoot anunarmed man who was running away.

  We were both swift runners and in fairly good training, but wesoon found that we had no chance of overtaking him. We saw himfor a long time in the moonlight until he was only a small speckmoving swiftly among the boulders upon the side of a distanthill. We ran and ran until we were completely blown, but thespace between us grew ever wider. Finally we stopped and satpanting on two rocks, while we watched him disappearing in thedistance.

  And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strange andunexpected thing. We had risen from our rocks and were turning togo home, having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was lowupon the right, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor stood upagainst the lower curve of its silver disc. There, outlined asblack as an ebony statue on that shining back-ground, I saw thefigure of a man upon the tor. Do not think that it was adelusion, Holmes. I assure you that I have never in my life seenanything more clearly. As far as I could judge, the figure wasthat of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legs a littleseparated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as if he werebrooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granite whichlay before him. He might have been the very spirit of thatterrible place. It was not the convict. This man was far from theplace where the latter had disappeared. Besides, he was a muchtaller man. With a cry of surprise I pointed him out to thebaronet, but in the instant during which I had turned to grasphis arm the man was gone. There was the sharp pinnacle of granitestill cutting the lower edge of the moon, but its peak bore notrace of that silent and motionless figure.

  I wished to go in that direction and to search the tor, but itwas some distance away. The baronet's nerves were still quiveringfrom that cry, which recalled the dark story of his family, andhe was not in the mood for fresh adventures. He had not seen thislonely man upon the tor and could not feel the thrill which hisstrange presence and his commanding attitude had given to me. "Awarder, no doubt," said he. "The moor has been thick with themsince this fellow escaped." Well, perhaps his explanation may bethe right one, but I should like to have some further proof ofit. To-day we mean to communicate to the Princetown people wherethey should look for their missing man, but it is hard lines thatwe have not actually had the triumph of bringing him back as ourown prisoner. Such are the adventures of last night, and you mustacknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well inthe matter of a report. Much of what I tell you is no doubt quiteirrelevant, but still I feel that it is best that I should letyou have all the facts and leave you to select for yourself thosewhich will be of most service to you in helping you to
yourconclusions. We are certainly making some progress. So far as theBarrymores go we have found the motive of their actions, and thathas cleared up the situation very much. But the moor with itsmysteries and its strange inhabitants remains as inscrutable asever. Perhaps in my next I may be able to throw some light uponthis also. Best of all would it be if you could come down to us.In any case you will hear from me again in the course of the nextfew days.