“Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirectupon the case, and especially the relations between youngBaskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerningthe death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myselfin the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative.
One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. JamesDesmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a veryamiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise fromhim. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from ourcalculations. There remain the people who will actually surroundSir Henry Baskerville upon the moor.”
“Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of thisBarrymore couple?”
“By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If theyare innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty weshould be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No,no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there isa groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorlandfarmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to beentirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing.
There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who issaid to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, ofLafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one ortwo other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your veryspecial study.”
“I will do my best.”
“You have arms, I suppose?”
“Yes, I thought it as well to take them.”
“Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, andnever relax your precautions.”
Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and werewaiting for us upon the platform.
“No, we have no news of any kind,” said Dr. Mortimer in answerto my friend’s questions. “I can swear to one thing, and that is thatwe have not been shadowed during the last two days. We havenever gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one couldhave escaped our notice.”
“You have always kept together, I presume?”
“Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pureamusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum ofthe College of Surgeons.”
“And I went to look at the folk in the park,” said Baskerville. “Butwe had no trouble of any kind.”
“It was imprudent, all the same,” said Holmes, shaking his headand looking very grave. “I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not goabout alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Didyou get your other boot?”
“No, sir, it is gone forever.”
“Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye,” he addedas the train began to glide down the platform. “Bear in mind,Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr.
Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours ofdarkness when the powers of evil are exalted.”
I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind,and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless andgazing after us.
The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it inmaking the more intimate acquaintance of my two companionsand in playing with Dr. Mortimer’s spaniel. In a very few hours thebrown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite,and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grassesand more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper,climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window, andcried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features ofthe Devon scenery.
“I’ve been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson,”said he; “but I have never seen a place to compare with it.”
“I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by hiscounty,” I remarked.
“It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on thecounty,” said Dr. Mortimer. “A glance at our friend here revealsthe rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celticenthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles’s head wasof a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics.
But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, wereyou not?”
“I was a boy in my teens at the time of my father’s death andhad never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on theSouth Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tellyou it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I’m as keen aspossible to see the moor.”
“Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your firstsight of the moor,” said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriagewindow.
Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a woodthere rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strangejagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantasticlandscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixedupon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him,this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood hadheld sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, withhis tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaicrailway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressiveface I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of thatlong line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There werepride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils,and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult anddangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comradefor whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty thathe would bravely share it.
