Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Hound of the Baskervilles Chapter 2 THE CURSE OF THE BASKERVILLES

"I HAVE in my pocket a manuscript," said Dr. James Mortimer."I observed it as you entered the room," said Holmes."It is an old manuscript.""Early eighteenth century, unless it is a forgery.""How can you say that, sir?""You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination all the timethat you have been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not givethe date of a document within a decade or so. You may possibly have readmy little monograph upon the subject. I put that at 1730.""The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer drew it from his breast-pocket."This family paper was committed to my care by Sir Charles Baskerville,whose sudden and tragic death some three months ago created so muchexcitement in Devonshire. I may say that I was his personal friend as wellas his medical attendant. He was a strong-minded man, sir, shrewd,practical, and as unimaginative as I am myself. Yet he took this documentvery seriously, and his mind was prepared for just such an end as dideventually overtake him."Holmes stretched out his hand for the manuscript and flattened it uponhis knee."You will observe, Watson, the alternative use of the long s and theshort. It is one of several indications which enabled me to fix the date."I looked over his shoulder at the yellow paper and the faded script. Atthe head was written: "Baskerville Hall," and below, in large, scrawlingfigures: "1742.""It appears to be a statement of some sort.""Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend which runs in the Baskervillefamily.""But I understand that it is something more modern and practical uponwhich you wish to consult me?""Most modern. A most practical, pressing matter, which must bedecided within twenty-four hours. But the manuscript is short and isintimately connected with the affair. With your permission I will read it toyou."Holmes leaned back in his chair, placed his finger-tips together, andclosed his eyes, with an air of resignation. Dr. Mortimer turned themanuscript to the light and read in a high, crackling voice the followingcurious, old-world narrative:Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have beenmany statements, yet as I come in a direct line from HugoBaskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also had itfrom his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred even asis here set forth. And I would have [674] you believe, my sons, thatthe same Justice which punishes sin may also most graciouslyforgive it, and that no ban is so heavy but that by prayer andrepentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story not tofear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in the future,that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered sogrievously may not again be loosed to our undoing."Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the historyof which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commendto your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo ofthat name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane,and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours might havepardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts,but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humour whichmade his name a byword through the West. It chanced that thisHugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be knownunder so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreetand of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evilname. So it came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with fiveor six of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon thefarm and carried off the maiden, her father and brothers beingfrom home, as he well knew. When they had brought her to theHall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo andhis friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom.Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turned at thesinging and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her frombelow, for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville,when he was in wine, were such as might blast the man who saidthem. At last in the stress of her fear she did that which might havedaunted the bravest or most active man, for by the aid of thegrowth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall shecame down from under the eaves, and so homeward across themoor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father'sfarm."It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests tocarry food and drink-with other worse things, perchance-to hiscaptive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then,as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushingdown the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table,flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud beforeall the company that he would that very night render his body andsoul to the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake the wench. Andwhile the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one morewicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out thatthey should put the hounds upon her. Whereat Hugo ran from thehouse, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare andunkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's,he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight overthe moor."Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable tounderstand all that had been done in such haste. But anon theirbemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to bedone upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, somecalling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some foranother flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to theircrazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen [675] in number,took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear abovethem, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which themaid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home."They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the nightshepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if hehad seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazedwith fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he hadindeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track.'But I have seen more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind himsuch a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.' Sothe drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. Butsoon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across themoor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past withtrailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode closetogether, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed overthe moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been rightglad to have turned his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashionthey came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for theirvalour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head ofa deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinkingaway and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazingdown the narrow valley before them."The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you mayguess, than when they started. The most of them would by nomeans advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be themost drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into abroad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to beseen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the daysof old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and therein the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead offear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her, whichraised the hair upon the heads of these three dare-devil roysterers,but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat,there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound,yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon.And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of HugoBaskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and drippingjaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life,still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that verynight of what he had seen, and the other twain were but brokenmen for the rest of their days."Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which issaid to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. If I have set itdown it is because that which is clearly known hath less terror thanthat which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can it be denied thatmany of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which havebeen sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Yet may we shelterourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence, which would notforever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generationwhich is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my sons, Ihereby commend you, and I counsel you by way of caution toforbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours when thepowers of evil are exalted.[676] "[This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John,with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth.]"When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative hepushed his spectacles up on his forehead and stared across at Mr.Sherlock Holmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigaretteinto the fire."Well?" said he."Do you not find it interesting?""To a collector of fairy tales."Dr. Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of his pocket."Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent.This is the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a shortaccount of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskerville whichoccurred a few days before that date."My friend leaned a little forward and his expression became intent. Ourvisitor readjusted his glasses and began:"The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whosename has been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate forMid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county.Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for acomparatively short period his amiability of character and extremegenerosity had won the affection and respect of all who had beenbrought into contact with him. In these days of nouveaux riches itis refreshing to find a case where the scion of an old county familywhich has fallen upon evil days is able to make his own fortuneand to bring it back with him to restore the fallen grandeur of hisline. Sir Charles, as is well known, made large sums of money inSouth African speculation. More wise than those who go on untilthe wheel turns against them, he realized his gains and returned toEngland with them. It is only two years since he took up hisresidence at Baskerville Hall, and it is common talk how largewere those schemes of reconstruction and improvement whichhave been interrupted by his death. Being himself childless, it washis openly expressed desire that the whole countryside should,within his own lifetime, profit by his good fortune, and many willhave personal reasons for bewailing his untimely end. Hisgenerous donations to local and county charities have beenfrequently chronicled in these columns."The circumstances connected with the death of Sir Charlescannot be said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest, butat least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours towhich local superstition has given rise. There is no reasonwhatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could befrom any but natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and a manwho may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habitof mind. In spite of his considerable wealth he was simple in hispersonal tastes, and his indoor servants at Baskerville Hallconsisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband acting as butler and the wife as housekeeper. Their evidence,corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that SirCharles's health has for some time been impaired, and pointsespecially to some affection of the heart, manifesting itself inchanges of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervousdepression. [677] Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and medicalattendant of the deceased, has given evidence to the same effect."The facts of the case are simple. Sir Charles Baskerville was inthe habit every night before going to bed of walking down thefamous yew alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of theBarrymores shows that this had been his custom. On the fourth ofMay Sir Charles had declared his intention of starting next day forLondon, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. Thatnight he went out as usual for his nocturnal walk, in the course ofwhich he was in the habit of smoking a cigar. He never returned.At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open,became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search of hismaster. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles's footmarks wereeasily traced down the alley. Halfway down this walk there is agate which leads out on to the moor. There were indications thatSir Charles had stood for some little time here. He then proceeded down the alley, and it was at the far end of it that his body wasdiscovered. One fact which has not been explained is the statementof Barrymore that his master's footprints altered their characterfrom the time that he passed the moor-gate, and that he appearedfrom thence onward to have been walking upon his toes. OneMurphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no greatdistance at the time, but he appears by his own confession to havebeen the worse for drink. He declares that he heard cries but isunable to state from what direction they came. No signs ofviolence were to be discovered upon Sir Charles's person, andthough the doctor's evidence pointed to an almost incredible facialdistortion-so great that Dr. Mortimer refused at first to believe thatit was indeed his friend and patient who lay before him-it wasexplained that that is a symptom which is not unusual in cases ofdyspnoea and death from cardiac exhaustion. This explanation wasborne out by the post-mortem examination, which showed longstanding organic disease, and the coroner's jury returned a verdictin accordance with the medical evidence. It is well that this is so,for it is obviously of the utmost importance that Sir Charles's heirshould settle at the Hall and continue the good work which hasbeen so sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coronernot finally put an end to the romantic stories which have beenwhispered in connection with the affair, it might have beendifficult to find a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understood thatthe next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be still alive, the sonof Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. The young manwhen last heard of was in America, and inquiries are beinginstituted 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 deathof Sir Charles Baskerville.""I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for calling my attention toa case which certainly presents some features of interest. I had observedsome newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly preoccupiedby that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige thePope I lost touch with several interesting English cases. This article, yousay, contains all the public facts?""It does."[678] "Then let me have the private ones." He leaned back, put hisfinger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicialexpression."In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs ofsome strong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided toanyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that aman of science shrinks from placing himself in the public position ofseeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive thatBaskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainly remain untenanted ifanything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather less than Iknew, since no practical good could result from it, but with you there isno reason why I should not be perfectly frank."The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near eachother are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good deal ofSir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr. Frankland, of LafterHall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other men ofeducation within many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man, but thechance of his illness brought us together, and a community of interests inscience kept us so. He had brought back much scientific information fromSouth Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent togetherdiscussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the Hottentot."Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me that SirCharles's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. He hadtaken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart-so much sothat, although he would walk in his own grounds, nothing would inducehim 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 hisfamily, and certainly the records which he was able to give of hisancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presenceconstantly haunted him, and on more than one occasion he has asked mewhether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seen any strangecreature or heard the baying of a hound. The latter question he put to meseveral 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 haddescended from my gig and was standing in front of him, when I saw hiseyes fix themselves over my shoulder and stare past me with anexpression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round and had just timeto catch a glimpse of something which I took to be a large black calfpassing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was he that I wascompelled to go down to the spot where the animal had been and lookaround for it. It was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make theworst impression upon his mind. I stayed with him all the evening, and itwas on that occasion, to explain the emotion which he had shown, that heconfided to my keeping that narrative which I read to you when first Icame. I mention this small episode because it assumes some importancein view of the tragedy which followed, but I was convinced at the timethat the matter was entirely trivial and that his excitement had nojustification."It was at my advice that Sir Charles was about to go to London. Hisheart was, I knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in which he lived,however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently having aserious effect upon his health. I thought that a few months among thedistractions of town would send him back a new man. Mr. Stapleton, amutual friend who was much concerned at his state of [679] health, was ofthe same opinion. At the last instant came this terrible catastrophe."On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler, who madethe discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I wassitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of theevent. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentioned atthe inquest. I followed the footsteps down the yew alley, I saw the spot atthe moor-gate where he seemed to have waited, I remarked the change inthe shape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were no otherfootsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally Icarefully examined the body, which had not been touched until myarrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into theground, and his features convulsed with some strong emotion to such anextent that I could hardly have sworn to his identity. There was certainlyno physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made byBarrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon theground round the body. He did not observe any. But I did-some littledistance 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 sankalmost to a whisper as he answered:"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"