The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the houselay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was aheavy block of building from which a porch projected. The wholefront was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and therewhere a window or a coat of arms broke through the dark veil.
From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated,and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turretswere more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shonethrough heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneyswhich rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a singleblack column of smoke.
“Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!”
A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to openthe door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouettedagainst the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped theman to hand down our bags.
“You don’t mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?” said Dr.Mortimer. “My wife is expecting me.”
“Surely you will stay and have some dinner?”
“No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. Iwould stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be abetter guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day tosend for me if I can be of service.”
The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and Iturned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. Itwas a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty,and heavily raftered with huge balks of age-blackened oak. In thegreat old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-firecrackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, forwe were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at thehigh, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags’heads, the coats of arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in thesubdued light of the central lamp.
“It’s just as I imagined it,” said Sir Henry. “Is it not the verypicture of an old family home? To think that this should be thesame hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. Itstrikes me solemn to think of it.”
I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazedabout him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but longshadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopyabove him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage toour rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued mannerof a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall,handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguishedfeatures.
“Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?”
“Is it ready?”
“In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms.
My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until youhave made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand thatunder the new conditions this house will require a considerablestaff.”
“What new conditions?”
“I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, andwe were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wishto have more company, and so you will need changes in yourhousehold.”
“Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?”
“Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir.”
“But your family have been with us for several generations, havethey not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking anold family connection.”
I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler’swhite face.
“I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth,sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles and his deathgave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. Ifear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at BaskervilleHall.”
“But what do you intend to do?”
“I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishingourselves in some business. Sir Charles’s generosity has given usthe means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you toyour rooms.”
A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the oldhall, approached by a double stair. From this central point twolong corridors extended the whole length of the building, fromwhich all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing asBaskerville’s and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared tobe much more modern than the central part of the house, and thebright paper and numerous candles did something to remove thesombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind.
But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place ofshadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separatingthe dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved fortheir dependents. At one end a minstrel’s gallery overlooked it.
Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkenedceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up,and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it mighthave softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen satin the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one’s voicebecame hushed and one’s spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors,in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buckof the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silentcompany. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the mealwas over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-roomand smoke a cigarette.
“My word, it isn’t a very cheerful place,” said Sir Henry. “Isuppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the pictureat present. I don’t wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if helived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you,we will retire early to-night, and perhaps things may seem morecheerful in the morning.”
