|
`We've
had one experience, as Watson has no doubt told you. We heard the hound on
the moor, so I can swear that it is not all empty superstition. I had
something to do with dogs when I was out West, and I know one when I hear
one. If you can muzzle that one and put him on a chain I'll be ready to
swear you are the greatest detective of all time.'
`I
think I will muzzle him and chain him all right if you will give me your
help.'
`Whatever
you tell me to do I will do.'
`Very
good; and I will ask you also to do it blindly, without always asking the
reason.'
`Just
as you like.'
`If
you will do this I think the chances are that our little problem will soon
be solved. I have no doubt'
He
stopped suddenly and stared fixedly up over my head into the air. The lamp
beat upon his face, and so intent was it and so still that it might have
been that of a clear-cut classical statue, a personification of alertness
and expectation.
`What
is it?' we both cried.
I
could see as he looked down that he was repressing some internal emotion.
His
features were still composed, but his eyes shone with amused exultation.
`Excuse
the admiration of a connoisseur,' said he as he waved his hand towards the
line of portraits which covered the opposite wall. `Watson won't allow that
I know anything of art but that is mere jealousy because our views upon the
subject differ. Now, these are a really very fine series of portraits.'
`Well,
I'm glad to hear you say so,' said Sir Henry, glancing with some surprise at
my friend. `I don't pretend to know much about these things, and I'd be a
better judge of a horse or a steer than of a picture. I didn't know that you
found time for such things.'
`I
know what is good when I see it, and I see it now. That's a Kneller, I'll
swear, that lady in the blue silk over yonder, and the stout gentleman with
the wig ought to be a Reynolds. They are all family portraits, I presume?'
`Every
one.'
`Do
you know the names?'
`Barrymore
has been coaching me in them, and I think I can say my lessons fairly well.'
`Who
is the gentleman with the telescope?'
`That
is Rear-Admiral Baskerville, who served under Rodney in the West Indies. The
man with the blue coat and the roll of paper is Sir William Baskerville, who
was Chairman of Committees of the House of Commons under Pitt.'
`And
this Cavalier opposite to me - the one with the black velvet and the lace?'
`Ah,
you have a right to know about him. That is the cause of all the mischief,
the wicked Hugo, who started the Hound of the Baskervilles. We're not likely
to forget him.'
I
gazed with interest and some surprise upon the portrait.
`Dear
me!' said Holmes, `he seems a quiet, meek-mannered man enough, but I dare
say that there was a lurking devil in his eyes. I had pictured him as a more
robust and ruffianly person.'
`There's
no doubt about the authenticity, for the name and the date, 1647, are on the
back of the canvas.'
Holmes
said little more, but the picture of the old roysterer seemed to have a
fascination for him, and his eyes were continually fixed upon it during
supper. It was not until later, when Sir Henry had gone to his room, that I
was able to follow the trend of his thoughts. He led me back into the
banqueting-hall, his bedroom candle in his hand, and he held it up against
the time-stained portrait on the wall.
`Do
you see anything there?'
I
looked at the broad plumed hat, the curling love-locks, the white lace
collar, and the straight, severe face which was framed between them. It was
not a brutal countenance, but it was prim hard, and stern, with a firm-set,
thin-lipped mouth, and a coldly intolerant eye.
`Is
it like anyone you know?'
`There
is something of Sir Henry about the jaw.'
`Just
a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an instant!' He stood upon a chair, and,
holding up the light in his left hand, he curved his right arm over the
broad hat and round the long ringlets.
`Good
heavens!' I cried in amazement.
The
face of Stapleton had sprung out of the canvas.
`Ha,
you see it now. My eyes have been trained to examine faces and not their
trimmings. It is the first quality of a criminal investigator that he should
see through a disguise.'
`But
this is marvellous. It might be his portrait.'
`Yes,
it is an interesting instance of a throwback, which appears to be both
physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits is enough to convert a
man to the doctrine of reincarnation. The fellow is a Baskerville - that is
evident.'
`With
designs upon the succession.'
`Exactly.
This chance of the picture has supplied us with one of our most obvious
missing links. We have him, Watson, we have him, and I dare swear that
before to-morrow night he will be fluttering in our net as helpless as one
of his own butterflies. A pin, a cork, and a card, and we add him to the
Baker Street collection!' He burst into one of his rare fits of laughter as
he turned away from the picture. I have not heard him laugh often, and it
has always boded ill to somebody.
I
was up betimes in the morning, but Holmes was afoot earlier still, for I saw
him as I dressed, coming up the drive.
`Yes,
we should have a full day to-day,' he remarked, and he rubbed his hands with
the joy of action. `The nets are all in place, and the drag is about to
begin. We'll know before the day is out whether we have caught our big,
leanjawed pike, or whether he has got through the meshes.'
`Have
you been on the moor already?'
`I
have sent a report from Grimpen to Princetown as to the death of Selden.
I
think I can promise that none of you will be troubled in the matter. And I
have also communicated with my faithful Cartwright, who would certainly have
pined away at the door of my hut, as a dog does at his master's grave, if I
had not set his mind at rest about my safety.'
`What
is the next move?'
`To
see Sir Henry. Ah, here he is!'
`Good-morning,
Holmes,' said the baronet. `You look like a general who is planning a battle
with his chief of the staff.'
`That
is the exact situation. Watson was asking for orders.'
`And
so do I.'
`Very
good. You are engaged, as I understand, to dine with our friends the
Stapletons to-night.'
`I
hope that you will come also. They are very hospitable people, and I am sure
that they would be very glad to see you.'
`I
fear that Watson and I must go to London.'
`To
London?'
`Yes,
I think that we should be more useful there at the present juncture.'
The
baronet's face perceptibly lengthened.
`I
hoped that you were going to see me through this business. The Hall and the
moor are not very pleasant places when one is alone.'
`My
dear fellow, you must trust me implicitly and do exactly what I tell you.
You can tell your friends that we should have been happy to have come with
you, but that urgent business required us to be in town. We hope very soon
to return to Devonshire. Will you remember to give them that message?'
`If
you insist upon it.'
`There
is no alternative, I assure you.'
I
saw by the baronet's clouded brow that he was deeply hurt by what he
regarded as our desertion.
`When
do you desire to go?' he asked coldly.
`Immediately
after breakfast. We will drive in to Coombe Tracey, but Watson will leave
his things as a pledge that he will come back to you. Watson, you will send
a note to Stapleton to tell him that you regret that you cannot come.'
`I
have a good mind to go to London with you,' said the baronet. `Why should I
stay here alone?'
`Because
it is your post of duty. Because you gave me your word that you would do as
you were told, and I tell you to stay.'
`All
right, then, I'll stay.'
`One
more direction! I wish you to drive to Merripit House Send back your trap,
however, and let them know that you intend to walk home.'
`To
walk across the moor?'
`Yes.'
`But
that is the very thing which you have so often cautioned me not to do.'
`This
time you may do it with safety. If I had not every confidence in your nerve
and courage I would not suggest it, but it is essential that you should do
it.'
`Then
I will do it.'
`And
as you value your life do not go across the moor in any direction save along
the straight path which leads from Merripit House to the Grimpen Road, and
is your natural way home.'
`I
will do just what you say.'
`Very
good. I should be glad to get away as soon after breakfast as possible, so
as to reach London in the afternoon.'
I
was much astounded by this programme, though I remembered that Holmes had
said to Stapleton on the night before that his visit would terminate next
day. It had not crossed my mind however, that he would wish me to go with
him, nor could I understand how we could both be absent at a moment which he
himself declared to be critical. There was nothing for it, however, but
implicit obedience; so we bade good-bye to our rueful friend, and a couple
of hours afterwards we were at the station of Coombe Tracey and had
dispatched the trap upon its return journey. A small boy was waiting upon
the platform.
`Any
orders, sir?'
`You
will take this train to town, Cartwright. The moment you arrive you will
send a wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, in my name, to say that if he finds
the pocketbook which I have dropped he is to send it by registered post to
Baker Street.'
`Yes,
sir.'
`And
ask at the station office if there is a message for me.'
The
boy returned with a telegram, which Holmes handed to me. It ran:
Wire
received. Coming down with unsigned warrant. Arrive five-forty. Lestrade.
`That
is in answer to mine of this morning. He is the best of the professionals, I
think, and we may need his assistance. Now, Watson, I think that we cannot
employ our time better than by calling upon your acquaintance, Mrs. Laura
Lyons.'
His
plan of campaign was beginning to be evident. He would use the baronet in
order to convince the Stapletons that we were really gone, while we should
actually return at the instant when we were likely to be needed. That
telegram from London, if mentioned by Sir Henry to the Stapletons, must
remove the last suspicions from their minds. Already I seemed to see our
nets drawing closer around that leanjawed pike.
Mrs.
Laura Lyons was in her office, and Sherlock Holmes opened his interview with
a frankness and directness which considerably amazed her.
`I
am investigating the circumstances which attended the death of the late Sir
Charles Baskerville,' said he. `My friend here, Dr. Watson, has informed me
of what you have communicated, and also of what you have withheld in
connection with that matter.'
`What
have I withheld?' she asked defiantly.
`You
have confessed that you asked Sir Charles to be at the gate at ten o'clock.
We know that that was the place and hour of his death. You have withheld
what the connection is between these events.'
`There
is no connection.'
`In
that case the coincidence must indeed be an extraordinary one. But I think
that we shall succeed in establishing a connection, after all. I wish to be
perfectly frank with you, Mrs. Lyons. We regard this case as one of murder,
and the evidence may implicate not only your friend Mr. Stapleton but his
wife as well.'
The
lady sprang from her chair.
`His
wife!' she cried.
`The
fact is no longer a secret. The person who has passed for his sister is
really his wife.'
Mrs.
Lyons had resumed her seat. Her hands were grasping the arms of her chair,
and I saw that the pink nails had turned white with the pressure of her
grip.
`His
wife!' she said again. `His wife! He is not a married man.'
Sherlock
Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
`Prove
it to me! Prove it to me! And if you can do so - !' The fierce flash of her
eyes said more than any words.
`I
have come prepared to do so,' said Holmes, drawing several papers from his
pocket. `Here is a photograph of the couple taken in York four years ago. It
is indorsed ``Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur,'' but you will have no difficulty in
recognizing him, and her also, if you know her by sight. Here are three
written descriptions by trustworthy witnesses of Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur, who
at that time kept St. Oliver's private school. Read them and see if you can
doubt the identity of these people.'
She
glanced at them, and then looked up at us with the set rigid face of a
desperate woman.
`Mr.
Holmes,' she said, `this man had offered me marriage on condition that I
could get a divorce from my husband. He has lied to me, the villain, in
every conceivable way. Not one word of truth has he ever told me. And why -
why? I imagined that all was for my own sake. But now I see that I was never
anything but a tool in his hands. Why should I preserve faith with him who
never kept any with me? Why should I try to shield him from the consequences
of his own wicked acts? Ask me what you like, and there is nothing which I
shall hold back. One thing I swear to you, and that is that when I wrote the
letter I never dreamed of any harm to the old gentleman, who had been my
kindest friend.'
`I
entirely believe you, madam,' said Sherlock Holmes.
`The
recital of these events must be very painful to you, and perhaps it will
make it easier if I tell you what occurred, and you can check me if I make
any material mistake. The sending of this letter was suggested to you by
Stapleton?'
`He
dictated it.'
`I
presume that the reason he gave was that you would receive help from Sir
Charles for the legal expenses connected with your divorce?'
`Exactly.'
`And
then after you had sent the letter he dissuaded you from keeping the
appointment?'
`He
told me that it would hurt his self-respect that any other man should find
the money for such an object, and that though he was a poor man himself he
would devote his last penny to removing the obstacles which divided us.'
`He
appears to be a very consistent character. And then you heard nothing until
you read the reports of the death in the paper?'
`No.'
`And
he made you swear to say nothing about your appointment with Sir Charles?'
`He
did. He said that the death was a very mysterious one, and that I should
certainly be suspected if the facts came out. He frightened me into
remaining silent.'
`Quite
so. But you had your suspicions?'
She
hesitated and looked down.
`I
knew him,' she said. `But if he had kept faith with me I should always have
done so with him.'
`I
think that on the whole you have had a fortunate escape,' said Sherlock
Holmes. `You have had him in your power and he knew it, and yet you are
alive. You have been walking for some months very near to the edge of a
precipice.
We
must wish you good-morning now, Mrs. Lyons, and it is probable that you will
very shortly hear from us again.'
`Our
case becomes rounded off, and difficulty after difficulty thins away in
front of us,' said Holmes as we stood waiting for the arrival of the express
from town. `I shall soon be in the position of being able to put into a
single connected narrative one of the most singular and sensational crimes
of modern times. Students of criminology will remember the analogous
incidents in Godno, in Little Russia, in the year '66, and of course there
are the Anderson murders in North Carolina, but this case possesses some
features which are entirely its own. Even now we have no clear case against
this very wily man. But I shall be very much surprised if it is not clear
enough before we go to bed this night.'
The
London express came roaring into the station, and a small, wiry bulldog of a
man had sprung from a first-class carriage. We all three shook hands, and I
saw at once from the reverential way in which Lestrade gazed at my companion
that he had learned a good deal since the days when they had first worked
together. I could well remember the scorn which the theories of the reasoner
used then to excite in the practical man.
`Anything
good?' he asked.
`The
biggest thing for years,' said Holmes. `We have two hours before we need
think of starting. I think we might employ it in getting some dinner and
then, Lestrade, we will take the London fog out of your throat by giving you
a breath of the pure night air of Dartmoor. Never been there? Ah, well, I
don't suppose you will forget your first visit.'
|
Table of Contents
