Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Hound of the Baskervilles Chapter 12 DEATH ON THE MOOR

FOR a moment or two I sat breathless, hardly able to believe my ears.Then my senses and my voice came back to me, while a crushing weightof responsibility seemed in an instant to be lifted from my soul. That cold,incisive, ironical voice could belong to but one man in all the world."Holmes!" I cried-"Holmes!""Come out," said he, "and please be careful with the revolver."I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stone outside,his gray eyes dancing with amusement as they fell upon my astonishedfeatures. He was thin and worn, but clear and alert, his keen face bronzedby the sun and roughened by the wind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap helooked like any other tourist upon the moor, and he had contrived, withthat catlike love of personal cleanliness which was one of hischaracteristics, that his chin should be as smooth and his linen as perfectas if he were in Baker Street. "I never was more glad to see anyone in my life," said I as I wrung himby the hand."Or more astonished, eh?""Well, I must confess to it.""The surprise was not all on one side, I assure you. I had no idea thatyou had found my occasional retreat, still less that you were inside it,until I was within twenty paces of the door.""My footprint, I presume?""No, Watson; I fear that I could not undertake to recognize yourfootprint amid all the footprints of the world. If you seriously desire todeceive me you must change your tobacconist; for when I see the stub ofa cigarette marked Bradley, Oxford Street, I know that my friend Watsonis in the neighbourhood. You will see it there beside the path. You threwit down, no doubt, at that supreme moment when you charged into theempty hut.""Exactly.""I thought as much-and knowing your admirable tenacity I wasconvinced that you were sitting in ambush, a weapon within reach,waiting for the tenant to return. So you actually thought that I was thecriminal?""I did not know who you were, but I was determined to find out.""Excellent, Watson! And how did you localize me? You saw me,perhaps, on the night of the convict hunt, when I was so imprudent as toallow the moon to rise behind me?""Yes, I saw you then.""And have no doubt searched all the huts until you came to this one?""No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guide where tolook.""The old gentleman with the telescope, no doubt. I could not make itout when first I saw the light flashing upon the lens." He rose and peepedinto the hut. "Ha, I see that Cartwright has brought up some supplies.What's this paper? So you have been to Coombe Tracey, have you?""Yes."[741] "To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?""Exactly.""Well done! Our researches have evidently been running on parallellines, and when we unite our results I expect we shall have a fairly fullknowledge of the case.""Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeed theresponsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for mynerves. But how in the name of wonder did you come here, and what haveyou been doing? I thought that you were in Baker Street working out thatcase of blackmailing.""That was what I wished you to think.""Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!" I cried with somebitterness. "I think that I have deserved better at your hands, Holmes.""My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as in manyother cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play atrick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to comedown and examine the matter for myself. Had I been with Sir Henry andyou it is confident that my point of view would have been the same asyours, and my presence would have warned our very formidableopponents to be on their guard. As it is, I have been able to get about as Icould not possibly have done had I been living in the Hall, and I remainan unknown factor in the business, ready to throw in all my weight at acritical moment.""But why keep me in the dark?""For you to know could not have helped us and might possibly have ledto my discovery. You would have wished to tell me something, or in yourkindness you would have brought me out some comfort or other, and soan unnecessary risk would be run. I brought Cartwright down withme-you remember the little chap at the express office-and he has seenafter my simple wants: a loaf of bread and a clean collar. What does manwant more? He has given me an extra pair of eyes upon a very active pairof feet, and both have been invaluable.""Then my reports have all been wasted!"-My voice trembled as Irecalled the pains and the pride with which I had composed them.Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket."Here are your reports, my dear fellow, and very well thumbed, I assureyou. I made excellent arrangements, and they are only delayed one dayupon their way. I must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal and theintelligence which you have shown over an extraordinarily difficult case."I was still rather raw over the deception which had been practised uponme, but the warmth of Holmes's praise drove my anger from my mind. Ifelt also in my heart that he was right in what he said and that it was reallybest for our purpose that I should not have known that he was upon themoor."That's better," said he, seeing the shadow rise from my face. "Andnow tell me the result of your visit to Mrs. Laura Lyons-it was notdifficult for me to guess that it was to see her that you had gone, for I amalready aware that she is the one person in Coombe Tracey who might beof service to us in the matter. In fact, if you had not gone to-day it isexceedingly probable that I should have gone to-morrow."The sun had set and dusk was settling over the moor. The air had turnedchill and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. There, sitting together inthe twilight, [742] I told Holmes of my conversation with the lady. Sointerested was he that I had to repeat some of it twice before he wassatisfied."This is most important," said he when I had concluded. "It fills up agap which I had been unable to bridge in this most complex affair. Youare aware, perhaps, that a close intimacy exists between this lady and theman Stapleton?""I did not know of a close intimacy.""There can be no doubt about the matter. They meet, they write, thereis a complete understanding between them. Now, this puts a verypowerful weapon into our hands. If I could only use it to detach his wife--" "His wife?""I am giving you some information now, in return for all that you havegiven me. The lady who has passed here as Miss Stapleton is in reality hiswife.""Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? How could hehave permitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?""Sir Henry's falling in love could do no harm to anyone except SirHenry. He took particular care that Sir Henry did not make love to her, asyou have yourself observed. I repeat that the lady is his wife and not hissister.""But why this elaborate deception?""Because he foresaw that she would be very much more useful to himin the character of a free woman."All my unspoken instincts, my vague suspicions, suddenly took shapeand centred upon the naturalist. In that impassive, colourless man, withhis straw hat and his butterfly-net, I seemed to see something terrible-acreature of infinite patience and craft, with a smiling face and amurderous heart."It is he, then, who is our enemy-it is he who dogged us in London?""So I read the riddle.""And the warning-it must have come from her!""Exactly."The shape of some monstrous villainy, half seen, half guessed, loomedthrough the darkness which had girt me so long."But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that the womanis his wife?""Because he so far forgot himself as to tell you a true piece ofautobiography upon the occasion when he first met you, and I dare say hehas many a time regretted it since. He was once a schoolmaster in thenorth of England. Now, there is no one more easy to trace than aschoolmaster. There are scholastic agencies by which one may identifyany man who has been in the profession. A little investigation showed methat a school had come to grief under atrocious circumstances, and thatthe man who had owned it-the name was different-had disappeared withhis wife. The descriptions agreed. When I learned that the missing manwas devoted to entomology the identification was complete."The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by the shadows."If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs. Laura Lyons comein?" I asked."That is one of the points upon which your own researches have shed alight. Your interview with the lady has cleared the situation very much. Idid not know about a projected divorce between herself and her husband.In that case, regarding Stapleton as an unmarried man, she counted nodoubt upon becoming his wife.""And when she is undeceived?""Why, then we may find the lady of service. It must be our first duty tosee [743] her-both of us-to-morrow. Don't you think, Watson, that youare away from your charge rather long? Your place should be atBaskerville Hall." The last red streaks had faded away in the west and night had settledupon the moor. A few faint stars were gleaming in a violet sky."One last question, Holmes," I said as I rose. "Surely there is no needof secrecy between you and me. What is the meaning of it all? What is heafter?"Holmes's voice sank as he answered:"It is murder, Watson-refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder. Do notask me for particulars. My nets are closing upon him, even as his are uponSir Henry, and with your help he is already almost at my mercy. There isbut one danger which can threaten us. It is that he should strike before weare ready to do so. Another day-two at the most-and I have my casecomplete, but until then guard your charge as closely as ever a fondmother watched her ailing child. Your mission to-day has justified itself,and yet I could almost wish that you had not left his side. Hark!"A terrible scream-a prolonged yell of horror and anguish burst out ofthe silence of the moor. That frightful cry turned the blood to ice in myveins."Oh, my God!" I gasped. "What is it? What does it mean?"Holmes had sprung to his feet, and I saw his dark, athletic outline at thedoor of the hut, his shoulders stooping, his head thrust forward, his facepeering into the darkness."Hush!" he whispered. "Hush!"The cry had been loud on account of its vehemence, but it had pealedout from somewhere far off on the shadowy plain. Now it burst upon ourears, nearer, louder, more urgent than before."Where is it?" Holmes whispered; and I knew from the thrill of hisvoice that he, the man of iron, was shaken to the soul. "Where is it,Watson?""There, I think." I pointed into the darkness."No, there!"Again the agonized cry swept through the silent night, louder and muchnearer than ever. And a new sound mingled with it, a deep, mutteredrumble, musical and yet menacing, rising and falling like the low,constant murmur of the sea."The hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, come! Great heavens, ifwe are too late!"He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I had followed at hisheels. But now from somewhere among the broken ground immediatelyin front of us there came one last despairing yell, and then a dull, heavythud. We halted and listened. Not another sound broke the heavy silenceof the windless night.I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted. Hestamped his feet upon the ground."He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late.""No, no, surely not!""Fool that I was to hold my hand. And you, Watson, see what comes ofabandoning your charge! But, by Heaven, if the worst has happened we'llavenge him!"Blindly we ran through the gloom, blundering against boulders, forcing our way through gorse bushes, panting up hills and rushing down slopes,heading always in the direction whence those dreadful sounds had come.At every rise Holmes looked eagerly round him, but the shadows werethick upon the moor, and nothing moved upon its dreary face.[744] "Can you see anything?""Nothing.""But, hark, what is that?"A low moan had fallen upon our ears. There it was again upon our left!On that side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliff which overlooked astone-strewn slope. On its jagged face was spread-eagled some dark,irregular object. As we ran towards it the vague outline hardened into adefinite shape. It was a prostrate man face downward upon the ground,the head doubled under him at a horrible angle, the shoulders rounded andthe body hunched together as if in the act of throwing a somersault. Sogrotesque was the attitude that I could not for the instant realize that thatmoan had been the passing of his soul. Not a whisper, not a rustle, rosenow from the dark figure over which we stooped. Holmes laid his handupon him and held it up again with an exclamation of horror. The gleamof the match which he struck shone upon his clotted fingers and upon theghastly pool which widened slowly from the crushed skull of the victim.And it shone upon something else which turned our hearts sick and faintwithin us-the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!There was no chance of either of us forgetting that peculiar ruddytweed suit-the very one which he had worn on the first morning that wehad seen him in Baker Street. We caught the one clear glimpse of it, andthen the match flickered and went out, even as the hope had gone out ofour souls. Holmes groaned, and his face glimmered white through thedarkness."The brute! the brute!" I cried with clenched hands. "Oh, Holmes, Ishall never forgive myself for having left him to his fate.""I am more to blame than you, Watson. In order to have my case wellrounded and complete, I have thrown away the life of my client. It is thegreatest blow which has befallen me in my career. But how could Iknow-how could I know-that he would risk his life alone upon the moorin the face of all my warnings?""That we should have heard his screams-my God, those screams!-andyet have been unable to save him! Where is this brute of a hound whichdrove him to his death? It may be lurking among these rocks at thisinstant. And Stapleton, where is he? He shall answer for this deed.""He shall. I will see to that. Uncle and nephew have been murdered-theone frightened to death by the very sight of a beast which he thought to besupernatural, the other driven to his end in his wild flight to escape fromit. But now we have to prove the connection between the man and thebeast. Save from what we heard, we cannot even swear to the existence ofthe latter, since Sir Henry has evidently died from the fall. But, byheavens, cunning as he is, the fellow shall be in my power before anotherday is past!"We stood with bitter hearts on either side of the mangled body,overwhelmed by this sudden and irrevocable disaster which had broughtall our long and weary labours to so piteous an end. Then as the moonrose we climbed to the top of the rocks over which our poor friend hadfallen, and from the summit we gazed out over the shadowy moor, halfsilver and half gloom. Far away, miles off, in the direction of Grimpen, asingle steady yellow light was shining. It could only come from the lonelyabode of the Stapletons. With a bitter curse I shook my fist at it as I gazed."Why should we not seize him at once?""Our case is not complete. The fellow is wary and cunning to the lastdegree. It is not what we know, but what we can prove. If we make onefalse move the villain may escape us yet."[745] "What can we do?""There will be plenty for us to do to-morrow. To-night we can onlyperform the last offices to our poor friend."Together we made our way down the precipitous slope and approachedthe body, black and clear against the silvered stones. The agony of thosecontorted limbs struck me with a spasm of pain and blurred my eyes withtears."We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all the way tothe Hall. Good heavens, are you mad?"He had uttered a cry and bent over the body. Now he was dancing andlaughing and wringing my hand. Could this be my stern, self-contained friend? These were hidden fires, indeed!"A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!""A beard?""It is not the baronet-it is-why, it is my neighbour, the convict!"With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and that drippingbeard was pointing up to the cold, clear moon. There could be no doubtabout the beetling forehead, the sunken animal eyes. It was indeed thesame face which had glared upon me in the light of the candle from overthe rock-the face of Selden, the criminal.Then in an instant it was all clear to me. I remembered how the baronethad told me that he had handed his old wardrobe to Barrymore.Barrymore had passed it on in order to help Selden in his escape. Boots,shirt, cap-it was all Sir Henry's. The tragedy was still black enough, butthis man had at least deserved death by the laws of his country. I toldHolmes how the matter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulnessand joy."Then the clothes have been the poor devil's death," said he. "It is clearenough that the hound has been laid on from some article of SirHenry's-the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in all probability-andso ran this man down. There is one very singular thing, however: Howcame Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was on his trail?""He heard him." "To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man like thisconvict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recapture byscreaming wildly for help. By his cries he must have run a long way afterhe knew the animal was on his track. How did he know?""A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that all ourconjectures are correct- -""I presume nothing.""Well, then, why this hound should be loose to-night. I suppose that itdoes not always run loose upon the moor. Stapleton would not let it gounless he had reason to think that Sir Henry would be there.""My difficulty is the more formidable of the two, for I think that weshall very shortly get an explanation of yours, while mine may remainforever a mystery. The question now is, what shall we do with this poorwretch's body? We cannot leave it here to the foxes and the ravens.""I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we can communicatewith the police.""Exactly. I have no doubt that you and I could carry it so far. Halloa,Watson, what's this? It's the man himself, by all that's wonderful andaudacious! Not a word to show your suspicions-not a word, or my planscrumble to the ground."[746] A figure was approaching us over the moor, and I saw the dull redglow of a cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I could distinguish thedapper shape and jaunty walk of the naturalist. He stopped when he sawus, and then came on again."Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last man that Ishould have expected to see out on the moor at this time of night. But,dear me, what's this? Somebody hurt? Not-don't tell me that it is ourfriend Sir Henry!" He hurried past me and stooped over the dead man. Iheard a sharp intake of his breath and the cigar fell from his fingers."Who-who's this?" he stammered."It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown."Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supreme effort he hadovercome his amazement and his disappointment. He looked sharply fromHolmes to me."Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?""He appears to have broken his neck by falling over these rocks. Myfriend and I were strolling on the moor when we heard a cry.""I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I was uneasy aboutSir Henry.""Why about Sir Henry in particular?" I could not help asking."Because I had suggested that he should come over. When he did notcome I was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed for his safety whenI heard cries upon the moor. By the way"-his eyes darted again from myface to Holmes's- "did you hear anything else besides a cry?""No," said Holmes; "did you?""No.""What do you mean, then?""Oh, you know the stories that the peasants tell about a phantom hound,and so on. It is said to be heard at night upon the moor. I was wonderingif there were any evidence of such a sound to-night.""We heard nothing of the kind," said I."And what is your theory of this poor fellow's death?""I have no doubt that anxiety and exposure have driven him off hishead. He has rushed about the moor in a crazy state and eventually fallenover here and broken his neck.""That seems the most reasonable theory," said Stapleton, and he gave asigh which I took to indicate his relief. "What do you think about it, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"My friend bowed his compliments."You are quick at identification," said he."We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watson camedown. You are in time to see a tragedy.""Yes, indeed. I have no doubt that my friend's explanation will coverthe facts. I will take an unpleasant remembrance back to London with meto-morrow.""Oh, you return to-morrow?""That is my intention.""I hope your visit has cast some light upon those occurrences whichhave puzzled us?"Holmes shrugged his shoulders."One cannot always have the success for which one hopes. Aninvestigator needs facts and not legends or rumours. It has not been asatisfactory case."[747] My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner.Stapleton still looked hard at him. Then he turned to me."I would suggest carrying this poor fellow to my house, but it wouldgive my sister such a fright that I do not feel justified in doing it. I thinkthat if we put something over his face he will be safe until morning."And so it was arranged. Resisting Stapleton's offer of hospitality,Holmes and I set off to Baskerville Hall, leaving the naturalist to returnalone. Looking back we saw the figure moving slowly away over thebroad moor, and behind him that one black smudge on the silvered slopewhich showed where the man was lying who had come so horribly to hisend.