character from the time that he passed the moor-gate, and that he
appeared from thence onward to have been walking upon his toes. One
Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no great distance at
the time, but he appears by his own confession to have been the worse
for drink. He declares that he heard cries, but is unable to state
from what direction they came. No signs of violence were to be
discovered upon Sir Charles's person, and though the doctor's
evidence pointed to an almost incredible facial distortion--so great
that Dr. Mortimer refused at first to believe that it was indeed his
friend and patient who lay before him--it was explained that that is
a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death from
cardiac exhaustion. This explanation was borne out by the post-mortem
examination, which showed long-standing organic disease, and the
coroner's jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical
evidence. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of the
utmost importance that Sir Charles's heir should settle at the Hall
and continue the good work which has been so sadly interrupted. Had
the prosaic finding of the coroner not finally put an end to the
romantic stories which have been whispered in connection with the
affair, it might have been difficult to find a tenant for Baskerville
Hall. It is understood that the next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville,
if he be still alive, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger
brother. The young man when last heard of was in America, and
inquiries are being instituted with a view to informing him of his
good fortune."
Dr. Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket.
"Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, in connection with the death
of Sir Charles Baskerville."
"I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for calling my attention
to a case which certainly presents some features of interest. I had
observed some newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly
preoccupied by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my
anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting
English cases. This article, you say, contains all the public facts?"
"It does."
"Then let me have the private ones." He leaned back, put his
finger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicial
expression.
"In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs of some
strong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided to
anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is
that a man of science shrinks from placing himself in the public
position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the
further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, would
certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to increase its
already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that
I was justified in telling rather less than I knew, since no
practical good could result from it, but with you there is no reason
why I should not be perfectly frank.
"The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near each
other are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good
deal of Sir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr. Frankland,
of Lafter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other
men of education within many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man,
but the chance of his illness brought us together, and a community of
interests in science kept us so. He had brought back much scientific
information from South Africa, and many a charming evening we have
spent together discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and
the Hottentot.
"Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me that
Sir Charles's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. He
had taken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart--so
much so that, although he would walk in his own grounds, nothing
would induce him to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it
may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he was honestly convinced that a
dreadful fate overhung his family, and certainly the records which he
was able to give of his ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of
some ghastly presence constantly haunted him, and on more than one
occasion he has asked me whether I had on my medical journeys at
night ever seen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound.
The latter question he put to me several times, and always with a
voice which vibrated with excitement.
"I can well remember driving up to his house in the evening some
three weeks before the fatal event. He chanced to be at his hall
door. I had descended from my gig and was standing in front of him,
when I saw his eyes fix themselves over my shoulder, and stare past
me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round
and had just time to catch a glimpse of something which I took to be
a large black calf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and
alarmed was he that I was compelled to go down to the spot where the
animal had been and look around for it. It was gone, however, and the
incident appeared to make the worst impression upon his mind. I
stayed with him all the evening, and it was on that occasion, to
explain the emotion which he had shown, that he confided to my
keeping that narrative which I read to you when first I came. I
mention this small episode because it assumes some importance in view
of the tragedy which followed, but I was convinced at the time that
the matter was entirely trivial and that his excitement had no
justification.
"It was at my advice that Sir Charles was about to go to London. His
heart was, I knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in which he
lived, however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently
having a serious effect upon his health. I thought that a few months
among the distractions of town would send him back a new man. Mr.
Stapleton, a mutual friend who was much concerned at his state of
health, was of the same opinion. At the last instant came this
terrible catastrophe.
"On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler, who made
the discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I
was sitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an
hour of the event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which
were mentioned at the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the Yew
Alley, I saw the spot at the moor-gate where he seemed to have
waited, I remarked the change in the shape of the prints after that
point, I noted that there were no other footsteps save those of
Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally I carefully examined the
body, which had not been touched until my arrival. Sir Charles lay on
his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into the ground, and his
features convulsed with some strong emotion to such an extent that I
could hardly have sworn to his identity. There was certainly no
physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made by
Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon the
ground round the body. He did not observe any. But I did--some little
distance off, but fresh and clear."
"Footprints?"
"Footprints."
"A man's or a woman's?"
Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and his voice
sank almost to a whisper as he answered:--
"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"
CHAPTER III
The Problem
I confess at these words a shudder passed through me. There was a
thrill in the doctor's voice which showed that he was himself deeply
moved by that which he told us. Holmes leaned forward in his
excitement and his eyes had the hard, dry glitter which shot from
them when he was keenly interested.
"You saw this?"
"As clearly as I see you."
"And you said nothing?"
"What was the use?"
"How was it that no one else saw it?"
"The marks were some twenty yards from the body and no one gave them
a thought. I don't suppose I should have done so had I not known this
legend."
"There are many sheep-dogs on the moor?"
"No doubt, but this was no sheep-dog."
"You say it was large?"
"Enormous."
"But it had not approached the body?"
"No."
"What sort of night was it?"
"Damp and raw."
"But not actually raining?"
"No."
"What is the Alley like?"
"There are two lines of old yew hedge, twelve feet high and
impenetrable. The walk in the centre is about eight feet across."
"Is there anything between the hedges and the walk?"
"Yes, there is a strip of grass about six feet broad on either side."
"I understand that the yew hedge is penetrated at one point by a
gate?"
"Yes, the wicket-gate which leads on to the moor."
"Is there any other opening?"
"None."
"So that to reach the Yew Alley one either has to come down it from
the house or else to enter it by the moor-gate?"
"There is an exit through a summer-house at the far end."
"Had Sir Charles reached this?"
"No; he lay about fifty yards from it."
"Now, tell me, Dr. Mortimer--and this is important--the marks which
you saw were on the path and not on the grass?"
"No marks could show on the grass."
"Were they on the same side of the path as the moor-gate?"
"Yes; they were on the edge of the path on the same side as the
moor-gate."
"You interest me exceedingly. Another point. Was the wicket-gate
closed?"
"Closed and padlocked."
"How high was it?"
"About four feet high."
"Then anyone could have got over it?"
"Yes."
"And what marks did you see by the wicket-gate?"
"None in particular."
"Good heaven! Did no one examine?"
"Yes, I examined myself."
"And found nothing?"
"It was all very confused. Sir Charles had evidently stood there for
five or ten minutes."
"How do you know that?"
"Because the ash had twice dropped from his cigar."
"Excellent! This is a colleague, Watson, after our own heart. But the
marks?"
"He had left his own marks all over that small patch of gravel. I
could discern no others."
Sherlock Holmes struck his hand against his knee with an impatient
gesture.
"If I had only been there!" he cried. "It is evidently a case of
extraordinary interest, and one which presented immense opportunities
to the scientific expert. That gravel page upon which I might have
read so much has been long ere this smudged by the rain and defaced
by the clogs of curious peasants. Oh, Dr. Mortimer, Dr. Mortimer, to
think that you should not have called me in! You have indeed much to
answer for."
"I could not call you in, Mr. Holmes, without disclosing these facts
to the world, and I have already given my reasons for not wishing to
do so. Besides, besides--"
"Why do you hesitate?"
"There is a realm in which the most acute and most experienced of
detectives is helpless."
"You mean that the thing is supernatural?"
"I did not positively say so."
"No, but you evidently think it."
"Since the tragedy, Mr. Holmes, there have come to my ears several
incidents which are hard to reconcile with the settled order of
Nature."
"For example?"
"I find that before the terrible event occurred several people had
seen a creature upon the moor which corresponds with this Baskerville
demon, and which could not possibly be any animal known to science.
They all agreed that it was a huge creature, luminous, ghastly, and
spectral. I have cross-examined these men, one of them a hard-headed
countryman, one a farrier, and one a moorland farmer, who all tell
the same story of this dreadful apparition, exactly corresponding to
the hell-hound of the legend. I assure you that there is a reign of
terror in the district, and that it is a hardy man who will cross the
moor at night."
"And you, a trained man of science, believe it to be supernatural?"
"I do not know what to believe."
Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
"I have hitherto confined my investigations to this world," said he.
"In a modest way I have combated evil, but to take on the Father of
Evil himself would, perhaps, be too ambitious a task. Yet you must
admit that the footmark is material."
"The original hound was material enough to tug a man's throat out,
and yet he was diabolical as well."
