Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Hound of the Baskervilles Chapter 9 SECOND REPORT OF DR. WATSON

THE LIGHT UPON THE MOORBaskerville Hall, Oct. 15th.MY DEAR HOLMES:If I was compelled to leave you without much news during the earlydays of my mission you must acknowledge that I am making up for losttime, and that events are now crowding thick and fast upon us. In my lastreport I ended upon my top note with Barrymore at the window, and nowI have quite a budget already which will, unless I am much mistaken,considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I could nothave anticipated. In some ways they have within the last forty-eight hoursbecome much clearer and in some ways they have become morecomplicated. But I will tell you all and you shall judge for yourself.Before breakfast on the morning following my adventure I went downthe corridor and examined the room in which Barrymore had been on thenight before. [717] The western window through which he had stared sointently has, I noticed, one peculiarity above all other windows in thehouse-it commands the nearest outlook on to the moor. There is anopening between two trees which enables one from this point of view tolook right down upon it, while from all the other windows it is only adistant glimpse which can be obtained. It follows, therefore, thatBarrymore, since only this window would serve the purpose, must havebeen looking out for something or somebody upon the moor. The nightwas very dark, so that I can hardly imagine how he could have hoped tosee anyone. It had struck me that it was possible that some love intriguewas on foot. That would have accounted for his stealthy movements andalso for the uneasiness of his wife. The man is a striking-looking fellow,very well equipped to steal the heart of a country girl, so that this theoryseemed to have something to support it. That opening of the door which Ihad heard after I had returned to my room might mean that he had goneout to keep some clandestine appointment. So I reasoned with myself inthe morning, and I tell you the direction of my suspicions, however muchthe 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 myself until I couldexplain them was more than I could bear. I had an interview with thebaronet in his study after breakfast, and I told him all that I had seen. Hewas less surprised than I had expected."I knew that Barrymore walked about nights, and I had a mind to speak to him about it," said he. "Two or three times I have heard his steps in thepassage, coming and going, just about the hour you name.""Perhaps then he pays a visit every night to that particular window," Isuggested."Perhaps he does. If so, we should be able to shadow him and see whatit is that he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmes would do if hewere here.""I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest," said I. "Hewould 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 chance ofthat. We'll sit up in my room to-night and wait until he passes." Sir Henryrubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident that he hailed theadventure as a relief to his somewhat quiet life upon the moor.The baronet has been in communication with the architect whoprepared the plans for Sir Charles, and with a contractor from London, sothat we may expect great changes to begin here soon. There have beendecorators and furnishers up from Plymouth, and it is evident that ourfriend has large ideas and means to spare no pains or expense to restorethe grandeur of his family. When the house is renovated and refurnished,all that he will need will be a wife to make it complete. Betweenourselves there are pretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if thelady is willing, for I have seldom seen a man more infatuated with awoman than he is with our beautiful neighbour, Miss Stapleton. And yetthe course of true love does not run quite as smoothly as one would underthe circumstances expect. To-day, for example, its surface was broken bya very unexpected ripple, which has caused our friend considerableperplexity and annoyance.After the conversation which I have quoted about Barrymore, Sir Henryput on his hat and prepared to go out. As a matter of course I did the same.[718] "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, butyou heard how earnestly Holmes insisted that I should not leave you, andespecially that you should not go alone upon the moor."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 the moor.You understand me? I am sure that you are the last man in the world whowould wish to be a spoil-sport. I must go out alone."It put me in a most awkward position. I was at a loss what to say orwhat to do, and before I had made up my mind he picked up his cane andwas gone.But when I came to think the matter over my conscience reproached mebitterly for having on any pretext allowed him to go out of my sight. Iimagined what my feelings would be if I had to return to you and toconfess that some misfortune had occurred through my disregard for yourinstructions. I assure you my cheeks flushed at the very thought. It mightnot even now be too late to overtake him, so I set off at once in thedirection of Merripit House.I hurried along the road at the top of my speed without seeing anythingof Sir Henry, until I came to the point where the moor path branches off.There, fearing that perhaps I had come in the wrong direction after all, Imounted a hill from which I could command a view-the same hill whichis cut into the dark quarry. Thence I saw him at once. He was on the moorpath, about a quarter of a mile off, and a lady was by his side who couldonly be Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there was already anunderstanding between them and that they had met by appointment. Theywere walking slowly along in deep conversation, and I saw her makingquick little movements of her hands as if she were very earnest in whatshe was saying, while he listened intently, and once or twice shook hishead in strong dissent. I stood among the rocks watching them, very muchpuzzled as to what I should do next. To follow them and break into theirintimate conversation seemed to be an outrage, and yet my clear duty was never for an instant to let him out of my sight. To act the spy upon afriend was a hateful task. Still, I could see no better course than toobserve him from the hill, and to clear my conscience by confessing tohim afterwards what I had done. It is true that if any sudden danger hadthreatened him I was too far away to be of use, and yet I am sure that youwill agree with me that the position was very difficult, and that there wasnothing more which I could do.Our friend, Sir Henry, and the lady had halted on the path and werestanding deeply absorbed in their conversation, when I was suddenlyaware that I was not the only witness of their interview. A wisp of greenfloating in the air caught my eye, and another glance showed me that itwas carried on a stick by a man who was moving among the brokenground. It was Stapleton with his butterfly-net. He was very much closerto the pair than I was, and he appeared to be moving in their direction. Atthis instant Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side. His armwas round her, but it seemed to me that she was straining away from himwith her face averted. He stooped his head to hers, and she raised onehand as if in protest. Next moment I saw them spring apart and turnhurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause of the interruption. He wasrunning wildly towards them, [719] his absurd net dangling behind him.He gesticulated and almost danced with excitement in front of the lovers.What the scene meant I could not imagine, but it seemed to me thatStapleton was abusing Sir Henry, who offered explanations, whichbecame more angry as the other refused to accept them. The lady stood byin haughty silence. Finally Stapleton turned upon his heel and beckonedin a peremptory way to his sister, who, after an irresolute glance at SirHenry, walked off by the side of her brother. The naturalist's angrygestures showed that the lady was included in his displeasure. Thebaronet stood for a minute looking after them, and then he walked slowlyback the way that he had come, his head hanging, the very picture ofdejection.What all this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply ashamed tohave witnessed so intimate a scene without my friend's knowledge. I randown the hill therefore and met the baronet at the bottom. His face wasflushed with anger and his brows were wrinkled, like one who is at hiswit'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 to remainbehind, how I had followed him, and how I had witnessed all that hadoccurred. For an instant his eyes blazed at me, but my frankness disarmedhis anger, and he broke at last into a rather rueful laugh."You would have thought the middle of that prairie a fairly safe placefor a man to be private," said he, "but, by thunder, the whole countrysideseems to have been out to see me do my wooing-and a mighty poorwooing at that! Where had you engaged a seat?""I was on that hill.""Quite in the back row, eh? But her brother was well up to the front.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 youcan take it from me that either he or I ought to be in a strait-jacket. What'sthe matter with me, anyhow? You've lived near me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Is there anything that would prevent mefrom making a good husband to a woman that I loved?""I should say not.""He can't object to my worldly position, so it must be myself that hehas this down on. What has he against me? I never hurt man or woman inmy life that I know of. And yet he would not so much as let me touch thetips of her fingers.""Did he say so?""That, and a deal more. I tell you, Watson, I've only known her thesefew weeks, but from the first I just felt that she was made for me, and she,too- she was happy when she was with me, and that I'll swear. There's alight in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words. But he has neverlet us get together, and it was only to-day for the first time that I saw achance of having a few words with her alone. She was glad to meet me,but when she did it was not love that she would talk about, and shewouldn't have let me talk about it either if she could have stopped it. Shekept coming back to it that this was a place of danger, and that she wouldnever be happy until I had left it. I told her that since I had seen [720] her Iwas in no hurry to leave it, and that if she really wanted me to go, the onlyway to work it was for her to arrange to go with me. With that I offered inas many words 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 wasjust white with rage, and those light eyes of his were blazing with fury.What was I doing with the lady? How dared I offer her attentions whichwere distasteful to her? Did I think that because I was a baronet I could dowhat I liked? If he had not been her brother I should have known betterhow to answer him. As it was I told him that my feelings towards hissister were such as I was not ashamed of, and that I hoped that she mighthonour me by becoming my wife. That seemed to make the matter nobetter, so then I lost my temper too, and I answered him rather more hotlythan I should perhaps, considering that she was standing by. So it endedby his going off with her, as you saw, and here am I as badly puzzled aman as any in this county. Just tell me what it all means, Watson, and I'llowe you more than ever I can hope to pay."I tried one or two explanations, but, indeed, I was completely puzzledmyself. Our friend's title, his fortune, his age, his character, and hisappearance are all in his favour, and I know nothing against him unless itbe this dark fate which runs in his family. That his advances should berejected so brusquely without any reference to the lady's own wishes andthat the lady should accept 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 for hisrudeness of the morning, and after a long private interview with Sir Henryin his study the upshot of their conversation was that the breach is quitehealed, and that we are to dine at Merripit House next Friday as a sign ofit."I don't say now that he isn't a crazy man," said Sir Henry; "I can'tforget the look in his eyes when he ran at me this morning, but I mustallow that no man could make a more handsome apology than he has done.""Did he give any explanation of his conduct?""His sister is everything in his life, he says. That is natural enough, andI am glad that he should understand her value. They have always beentogether, and according to his account he has been a very lonely man withonly her as a companion, so that the thought of losing her was reallyterrible to him. He had not understood, he said, that I was becomingattached to her, but when he saw with his own eyes that it was really so,and that she might be taken away from him, it gave him such a shock thatfor a time he was not responsible for what he said or did. He was verysorry for all that had passed, and he recognized how foolish and howselfish it was that he should imagine that he could hold a beautiful womanlike his sister to himself for her whole life. If she had to leave him he hadrather it was to a neighbour like myself than to anyone else. But in anycase it was a blow to him, and it would take him some time before hecould prepare himself to meet it. He would withdraw all opposition uponhis part if I would promise for three months to let the matter rest and to becontent with cultivating the lady's friendship during that time withoutclaiming her love. This I promised, and so the matter rests."So there is one of our small mysteries cleared up. It is something tohave touched bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering.We know now why Stapleton looked with disfavour upon his sister'ssuitor-even when that suitor was so eligible a one as Sir Henry. And nowI pass on to another thread which I have extricated out of the tangledskein, the mystery of the sobs in the night, [721] of the tear-stained face ofMrs. Barrymore, of the secret journey of the butler to the western latticewindow. Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have notdisappointed you as an agent-that you do not regret the confidence whichyou showed in me when you sent me down. All these things have by onenight's work been thoroughly cleared.I have said "by one night's work," but, in truth, it was by two nights'work, for on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat up with Sir Henry inhis rooms until nearly three o'clock in the morning, but no sound of anysort did we hear except the chiming clock upon the stairs. It was a mostmelancholy vigil and ended by each of us falling asleep in our chairs.Fortunately we were not discouraged, and we determined to try again.The next night we lowered the lamp and sat smoking cigarettes withoutmaking the least sound. It was incredible how slowly the hours crawledby, and yet we were helped through it by the same sort of patient interestwhich the hunter must feel as he watches the trap into which he hopes thegame may wander. One struck, and two, and we had almost for thesecond time given it up in despair when in an instant we both sat boltupright in our chairs, with all our weary senses keenly on the alert oncemore. We had heard the creak of a step in the passage.Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in the distance.Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set out in pursuit.Already our man had gone round the gallery, and the corridor was all indarkness. Softly we stole along until we had come into the other wing.We were just in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded, as he tiptoed down the passage. Then he passedthrough the same door as before, and the light of the candle framed it inthe darkness and shot one single yellow beam across the gloom of thecorridor. We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank before wedared to put our whole weight upon it. We had taken the precaution ofleaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the old boards snapped andcreaked beneath our tread. Sometimes it seemed impossible that he shouldfail to hear our approach. However, the man is fortunately rather deaf, andhe was entirely preoccupied in that which he was doing. When at last wereached the door and peeped through we found him crouching at thewindow, candle in hand, his white, intent face pressed against the pane,exactly as I 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 walked into theroom, and as he did so Barrymore sprang up from the window with asharp hiss of his breath and stood, livid and trembling, before us. His darkeyes, glaring out of the white mask of his face, were full of horror andastonishment as he gazed from Sir Henry to me."What are you doing here, Barrymore?""Nothing, sir." His agitation was so great that he could hardly speak,and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking of his candle. "Itwas the window, sir. I go round at night to see that they are fastened.""On the second floor?""Yes, sir, all the windows.""Look here, Barrymore," said Sir Henry sternly, "we have made up our minds to have the truth out of you, so it will save you trouble to tell itsooner rather than later. Come, now! No lies! What were you doing at thatwindow?"The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and he wrung his handstogether like one who is in the last extremity of doubt and misery.[722] "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 itis not my secret, and that I cannot tell it. If it concerned no one but myselfI would not try to keep it from you."A sudden idea occurred to me, and I took the candle from the tremblinghand of the butler."He must have been holding it as a signal," said I. "Let us see if there isany answer." I held it as he had done, and stared out into the darkness ofthe night. Vaguely I could discern the black bank of the trees and thelighter expanse of the moor, for the moon was behind the clouds. Andthen I gave a cry of exultation, for a tiny pin-point of yellow light hadsuddenly transfixed the dark veil, and glowed steadily in the centre of theblack square framed by the window."There it is!" I cried."No, no, sir, it is nothing-nothing at all!" the butler broke in; "I assureyou, sir- -""Move your light across the window, Watson!" cried the baronet. "See,the other moves also! Now, you rascal, do you deny that it is a signal?Come, speak up! Who is your confederate out yonder, and what is thisconspiracy 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 hundred years underthis roof, and here I find you deep in some dark plot against me.""No, no, sir; no, not against you!" It was a woman's voice, and Mrs.Barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than her husband, was standingat the door. Her bulky figure in a shawl and skirt might have been comicwere it not for the intensity of feeling upon her face."We have to go, Eliza. This is the end of it. You can pack our things, "said the butler."Oh, John, John, have I brought you to this? It is my doing, Sir Henry-all mine. He has done nothing except for my sake, and because I askedhim.""Speak out, then! What does it mean?""My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot let him perishat our very gates. The light is a signal to him that food is ready for him,and his light out yonder is to show the spot to which 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 not my secretand that I could not tell it to you. But now you have heard it, and you willsee that if there was a plot it was not against you."This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions at night andthe light at the window. Sir Henry and I both stared at the woman inamazement. Was it possible that this stolidly respectable person was ofthe same blood as one of the most notorious 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 way ineverything until [723] he came to think that the world was made for hispleasure, and that he could do what he liked in it. Then as he grew olderhe met wicked companions, and the devil entered into him until he brokemy mother's heart and dragged our name in the dirt. From crime to crimehe sank lower and lower until it is only the mercy of God which hassnatched him from the scaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the littlecurly-headed boy that I had nursed and played with as an elder sisterwould. That was why he broke prison, sir. He knew that I was here andthat we could not refuse to help him. When he dragged himself here onenight, weary and starving, with the warders hard at his heels, what could we do? We took him in and fed him and cared for him. Then youreturned, sir, and my brother thought he would be safer on the moor thananywhere else until the hue and cry was over, so he lay in hiding there.But every second night we made sure if he was still there by putting alight in the window, and if there was an answer my husband took outsome bread and meat to him. Every day we hoped that he was gone, butas long as he was there we could not desert him. That is the whole truth,as I am an honest Christian woman, and you will see that if there is blamein the matter it does not lie with my husband but with me, for whose sakehe 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. Forget whatI have said. Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk further about thismatter 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 our faces. Faraway in the black distance there still glowed that one tiny point of yellowlight."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 to it. Andhe is waiting, this villain, beside that candle. By thunder, Watson, I amgoing 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 had beenforced from them. The man was a danger to the community, anunmitigated scoundrel for whom there was neither pity nor excuse. Wewere only doing our duty in taking this chance of putting him back wherehe could do no harm. With his brutal and violent nature, others wouldhave to pay the price if we held our hands. Any night, for example, ourneighbours the Stapletons might be attacked by him, and it may have beenthe thought of this which made Sir Henry so keen upon the adventure."I will come," said I."Then get your revolver and put on your boots. The sooner we start thebetter, as the fellow may put out his light and be off."In five minutes we were outside the door, starting upon our expedition.We [724] hurried through the dark shrubbery, amid the dull moaning ofthe autumn wind and the rustle of the falling leaves. The night air washeavy with the smell of damp and decay. Now and again the moonpeeped out for an instant, but clouds were driving over the face of the sky,and just as we came out on the moor a thin rain began to fall. The lightstill burned steadily in front. "Are you armed?" I asked."I have a hunting-crop.""We must close in on him rapidly, for he is said to be a desperatefellow. We shall take him by surprise and have him at our mercy beforehe can resist.""I say, Watson," said the baronet, "what would Holmes say to this?How about that hour of darkness in which the power of evil is exalted?"As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vast gloomof the moor that strange cry which I had already heard upon the bordersof the great Grimpen Mire. It came with the wind through the silence ofthe night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moanin which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole airthrobbing with it, strident, wild, and menacing. The baronet caught mysleeve and his face glimmered 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 it oncebefore."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 voice whichtold of the sudden horror which had seized him."What do they call this sound?" he asked."Who?""The folk on the countryside?""Oh, they are ignorant people. Why should you mind what they call it?""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 from milesaway, 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 the greatGrimpen Mire?""Yes, it is.""Well, it was up there. Come now, Watson, didn't you think yourselfthat it was the cry of a hound? I am not a child. You need not fear tospeak the truth.""Stapleton was with me when I heard it last. He said that it might be thecalling of a strange bird.""No, no, it was a hound. My God, can there be some truth in all thesestories? Is it possible that I am really in danger from so dark a cause? Youdon't believe it, do you, Watson?""No, no.""And yet it was one thing to laugh about it in London, and it is anotherto stand out here in the darkness of the moor and to hear such a cry asthat. And my [725] uncle! There was the footprint of the hound beside himas he lay. It all fits together. I don't think that I am a coward, Watson, but that sound seemed to freeze my very 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 you advise thatwe do now?""Shall we turn back?""No, by thunder; we have come out to get our man, and we will do it.We after the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely as not, after us. Comeon! We'll see it through if all the fiends of the pit were loose upon themoor."We stumbled slowly along in the darkness, with the black loom of thecraggy hills around us, and the yellow speck of light burning steadily infront. There is nothing so deceptive as the distance of a light upon a pitchdark night, and sometimes the glimmer seemed to be far away upon thehorizon and sometimes it might have been within a few yards of us. But atlast we could see whence it came, and then we knew that we were indeedvery 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 also to prevent itfrom being visible, save in the direction of Baskerville Hall. A boulder ofgranite concealed our approach, and crouching behind it we gazed over itat the signal light. It was strange to see this single candle burning there inthe middle of the 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 was thrust outan evil yellow face, a terrible animal face, all seamed and scored with vilepassions. Foul with mire, with a bristling beard, and hung with mattedhair, it might well have belonged to one of those old savages who dwelt inthe burrows on the hillsides. The light beneath him was reflected in hissmall, cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right and left through thedarkness like a crafty and savage animal who has heard the steps of thehunters.Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It may have been thatBarrymore had some private signal which we had neglected to give, or thefellow may have had some other reason for thinking that all was not well,but I could read his fears upon his wicked face. Any instant he might dashout the light and vanish in the darkness. I sprang forward therefore, andSir Henry did the same. At the same moment the convict screamed out acurse at us and hurled a rock which splintered up against the boulderwhich had sheltered us. I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, stronglybuilt figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run. At the samemoment by a lucky chance the moon broke through the clouds. We rushedover the brow of the hill, and there was our man running with great speeddown the other side, springing over the stones in his way with the activityof a mountain goat. A lucky long shot of my revolver might have crippledhim, but I had brought it only to defend myself if attacked and not toshoot an unarmed man who was running away. We were both swift runners and in fairly good training, but we soonfound that we had no chance of overtaking him. We saw him for a longtime in the moonlight [726] until he was only a small speck movingswiftly among the boulders upon the side of a distant hill. We ran and ranuntil we were completely blown, but the space between us grew everwider. Finally we stopped and sat panting on two rocks, while wewatched him disappearing in the distance.And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strange andunexpected thing. We had risen from our rocks and were turning to gohome, having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was low upon theright, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor stood up against the lowercurve of its silver disc. There, outlined as black as an ebony statue on thatshining background, I saw the figure of a man upon the tor. Do not thinkthat it was a delusion, Holmes. I assure you that I have never in my lifeseen anything more clearly. As far as I could judge, the figure was that ofa tall, thin man. He stood with his legs a little separated, his arms folded,his head bowed, as if he were brooding over that enormous wilderness ofpeat and granite which lay before him. He might have been the very spiritof that terrible place. It was not the convict. This man was far from theplace where the latter had disappeared. Besides, he was a much tallerman. With a cry of surprise I pointed him out to the baronet, but in theinstant during which I had turned to grasp his arm the man was gone.There was the sharp pinnacle of granite still cutting the lower edge of themoon, but its peak bore no trace of that silent and motionless figure.I wished to go in that direction and to search the tor, but it was somedistance away. The baronet's nerves were still quivering from that cry,which recalled the dark story of his family, and he was not in the moodfor fresh adventures. He had not seen this lonely man upon the tor andcould not feel the thrill which his strange presence and his commandingattitude had given to me. "A warder, no doubt," said he. "The moor hasbeen thick with them since this fellow escaped." Well, perhaps hisexplanation may be the right one, but I should like to have some furtherproof of it. To-day we mean to communicate to the Princetown peoplewhere they should look for their missing man, but it is hard lines that wehave not actually had the triumph of bringing him back as our ownprisoner. Such are the adventures of last night, and you mustacknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well in thematter of a report. Much of what I tell you is no doubt quite irrelevant, butstill I feel that it is best that I should let you have all the facts and leaveyou to select for yourself those which will be of most service to you inhelping you to your conclusions. We are certainly making some progress.So far as the Barrymores go we have found the motive of their actions,and that has cleared up the situation very much. But the moor with itsmysteries and its strange inhabitants remains as inscrutable as ever.Perhaps in my next I may be able to throw some light upon this also. Bestof 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 next few days.