<h2><SPAN name="chap12"></SPAN>Chapter 12.<br/> Death on the Moor</h2>
<p>For a moment or two I sat breathless, hardly able to believe my ears. Then
my senses and my voice came back to me, while a crushing weight of
responsibility seemed in an instant to be lifted from my soul. That cold,
incisive, ironical voice could belong to but one man in all the world.</p>
<p>“Holmes!” I cried—“Holmes!”</p>
<p>“Come out,” said he, “and please be careful with the revolver.”</p>
<p>I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stone outside,
his grey eyes dancing with amusement as they fell upon my astonished
features. He was thin and worn, but clear and alert, his keen face bronzed
by the sun and roughened by the wind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap he
looked like any other tourist upon the moor, and he had contrived, with
that catlike love of personal cleanliness which was one of his
characteristics, that his chin should be as smooth and his linen as
perfect as if he were in Baker Street.</p>
<p>“I never was more glad to see anyone in my life,” said I as I wrung him by
the hand.</p>
<p>“Or more astonished, eh?”</p>
<p>“Well, I must confess to it.”</p>
<p>“The surprise was not all on one side, I assure you. I had no idea that
you had found my occasional retreat, still less that you were inside it,
until I was within twenty paces of the door.”</p>
<p>“My footprint, I presume?”</p>
<p>“No, Watson, I fear that I could not undertake to recognize your footprint
amid all the footprints of the world. If you seriously desire to deceive
me you must change your tobacconist; for when I see the stub of a
cigarette marked Bradley, Oxford Street, I know that my friend Watson is
in the neighbourhood. You will see it there beside the path. You threw it
down, no doubt, at that supreme moment when you charged into the empty
hut.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>“I thought as much—and knowing your admirable tenacity I was
convinced that you were sitting in ambush, a weapon within reach, waiting
for the tenant to return. So you actually thought that I was the
criminal?”</p>
<p>“I did not know who you were, but I was determined to find out.”</p>
<p>“Excellent, Watson! And how did you localise me? You saw me, perhaps, on
the night of the convict hunt, when I was so imprudent as to allow the
moon to rise behind me?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I saw you then.”</p>
<p>“And have no doubt searched all the huts until you came to this one?”</p>
<p>“No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guide where to look.”</p>
<p>“The old gentleman with the telescope, no doubt. I could not make it out
when first I saw the light flashing upon the lens.” He rose and peeped
into the hut. “Ha, I see that Cartwright has brought up some supplies.
What’s this paper? So you have been to Coombe Tracey, have you?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>“Well done! Our researches have evidently been running on parallel lines,
and when we unite our results I expect we shall have a fairly full
knowledge of the case.”</p>
<p>“Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeed the
responsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for my nerves.
But how in the name of wonder did you come here, and what have you been
doing? I thought that you were in Baker Street working out that case of
blackmailing.”</p>
<p>“That was what I wished you to think.”</p>
<p>“Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!” I cried with some bitterness.
“I think that I have deserved better at your hands, Holmes.”</p>
<p>“My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many other
cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play a trick
upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it
was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come down
and examine the matter for myself. Had I been with Sir Henry and you it is
confident that my point of view would have been the same as yours, and my
presence would have warned our very formidable opponents to be on their
guard. As it is, I have been able to get about as I could not possibly
have done had I been living in the Hall, and I remain an unknown factor in
the business, ready to throw in all my weight at a critical moment.”</p>
<p>“But why keep me in the dark?”</p>
<p>“For you to know could not have helped us and might possibly have led to
my discovery. You would have wished to tell me something, or in your
kindness you would have brought me out some comfort or other, and so an
unnecessary risk would be run. I brought Cartwright down with me—you
remember the little chap at the express office—and he has seen after
my simple wants: a loaf of bread and a clean collar. What does man want
more? He has given me an extra pair of eyes upon a very active pair of
feet, and both have been invaluable.”</p>
<p>“Then my reports have all been wasted!”—My voice trembled as I
recalled the pains and the pride with which I had composed them.</p>
<p>Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket.</p>
<p>“Here are your reports, my dear fellow, and very well thumbed, I assure
you. I made excellent arrangements, and they are only delayed one day upon
their way. I must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal and the
intelligence which you have shown over an extraordinarily difficult case.”</p>
<p>I was still rather raw over the deception which had been practised upon
me, but the warmth of Holmes’s praise drove my anger from my mind. I felt
also in my heart that he was right in what he said and that it was really
best for our purpose that I should not have known that he was upon the
moor.</p>
<p>“That’s better,” said he, seeing the shadow rise from my face. “And now
tell me the result of your visit to Mrs. Laura Lyons—it was not
difficult for me to guess that it was to see her that you had gone, for I
am already aware that she is the one person in Coombe Tracey who might be
of service to us in the matter. In fact, if you had not gone today it is
exceedingly probable that I should have gone tomorrow.”</p>
<p>The sun had set and dusk was settling over the moor. The air had turned
chill and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. There, sitting together in
the twilight, I told Holmes of my conversation with the lady. So
interested was he that I had to repeat some of it twice before he was
satisfied.</p>
<p>“This is most important,” said he when I had concluded. “It fills up a gap
which I had been unable to bridge in this most complex affair. You are
aware, perhaps, that a close intimacy exists between this lady and the man
Stapleton?”</p>
<p>“I did not know of a close intimacy.”</p>
<p>“There can be no doubt about the matter. They meet, they write, there is a
complete understanding between them. Now, this puts a very powerful weapon
into our hands. If I could only use it to detach his wife—”</p>
<p>“His wife?”</p>
<p>“I am giving you some information now, in return for all that you have
given me. The lady who has passed here as Miss Stapleton is in reality his
wife.”</p>
<p>“Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? How could he have
permitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?”</p>
<p>“Sir Henry’s falling in love could do no harm to anyone except Sir Henry.
He took particular care that Sir Henry did not make love to her, as you
have yourself observed. I repeat that the lady is his wife and not his
sister.”</p>
<p>“But why this elaborate deception?”</p>
<p>“Because he foresaw that she would be very much more useful to him in the
character of a free woman.”</p>
<p>All my unspoken instincts, my vague suspicions, suddenly took shape and
centred upon the naturalist. In that impassive colourless man, with his
straw hat and his butterfly-net, I seemed to see something terrible—a
creature of infinite patience and craft, with a smiling face and a
murderous heart.</p>
<p>“It is he, then, who is our enemy—it is he who dogged us in London?”</p>
<p>“So I read the riddle.”</p>
<p>“And the warning—it must have come from her!”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>The shape of some monstrous villainy, half seen, half guessed, loomed
through the darkness which had girt me so long.</p>
<p>“But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that the woman is his
wife?”</p>
<p>“Because he so far forgot himself as to tell you a true piece of
autobiography upon the occasion when he first met you, and I dare say he
has many a time regretted it since. He was once a schoolmaster in the
north of England. Now, there is no one more easy to trace than a
schoolmaster. There are scholastic agencies by which one may identify any
man who has been in the profession. A little investigation showed me that
a school had come to grief under atrocious circumstances, and that the man
who had owned it—the name was different—had disappeared with
his wife. The descriptions agreed. When I learned that the missing man was
devoted to entomology the identification was complete.”</p>
<p>The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by the shadows.</p>
<p>“If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs. Laura Lyons come in?”
I asked.</p>
<p>“That is one of the points upon which your own researches have shed a
light. Your interview with the lady has cleared the situation very much. I
did not know about a projected divorce between herself and her husband. In
that case, regarding Stapleton as an unmarried man, she counted no doubt
upon becoming his wife.”</p>
<p>“And when she is undeceived?”</p>
<p>“Why, then we may find the lady of service. It must be our first duty to
see her—both of us—tomorrow. Don’t you think, Watson, that you
are away from your charge rather long? Your place should be at Baskerville
Hall.”</p>
<p>The last red streaks had faded away in the west and night had settled upon
the moor. A few faint stars were gleaming in a violet sky.</p>
<p>“One last question, Holmes,” I said as I rose. “Surely there is no need of
secrecy between you and me. What is the meaning of it all? What is he
after?”</p>
<p>Holmes’s voice sank as he answered:</p>
<p>“It is murder, Watson—refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder. Do
not ask me for particulars. My nets are closing upon him, even as his are
upon Sir Henry, and with your help he is already almost at my mercy. There
is but one danger which can threaten us. It is that he should strike
before we are ready to do so. Another day—two at the most—and
I have my case complete, but until then guard your charge as closely as
ever a fond mother watched her ailing child. Your mission today has
justified itself, and yet I could almost wish that you had not left his
side. Hark!”</p>
<p>A terrible scream—a prolonged yell of horror and anguish—burst
out of the silence of the moor. That frightful cry turned the blood to ice
in my veins.</p>
<p>“Oh, my God!” I gasped. “What is it? What does it mean?”</p>
<p>Holmes had sprung to his feet, and I saw his dark, athletic outline at the
door of the hut, his shoulders stooping, his head thrust forward, his face
peering into the darkness.</p>
<p>“Hush!” he whispered. “Hush!”</p>
<p>The cry had been loud on account of its vehemence, but it had pealed out
from somewhere far off on the shadowy plain. Now it burst upon our ears,
nearer, louder, more urgent than before.</p>
<p>“Where is it?” Holmes whispered; and I knew from the thrill of his voice
that he, the man of iron, was shaken to the soul. “Where is it, Watson?”</p>
<p>“There, I think.” I pointed into the darkness.</p>
<p>“No, there!”</p>
<p>Again the agonised cry swept through the silent night, louder and much
nearer than ever. And a new sound mingled with it, a deep, muttered
rumble, musical and yet menacing, rising and falling like the low,
constant murmur of the sea.</p>
<p>“The hound!” cried Holmes. “Come, Watson, come! Great heavens, if we are
too late!”</p>
<p>He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I had followed at his
heels. But now from somewhere among the broken ground immediately in front
of us there came one last despairing yell, and then a dull, heavy thud. We
halted and listened. Not another sound broke the heavy silence of the
windless night.</p>
<p>I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted. He
stamped his feet upon the ground.</p>
<p>“He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late.”</p>
<p>“No, no, surely not!”</p>
<p>“Fool that I was to hold my hand. And you, Watson, see what comes of
abandoning your charge! But, by Heaven, if the worst has happened we’ll
avenge him!”</p>
<p>Blindly we ran through the gloom, blundering against boulders, forcing our
way through gorse bushes, panting up hills and rushing down slopes,
heading always in the direction whence those dreadful sounds had come. At
every rise Holmes looked eagerly round him, but the shadows were thick
upon the moor, and nothing moved upon its dreary face.</p>
<p>“Can you see anything?”</p>
<p>“Nothing.”</p>
<p>“But, hark, what is that?”</p>
<p>A low moan had fallen upon our ears. There it was again upon our left! On
that side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliff which overlooked a
stone-strewn slope. On its jagged face was spread-eagled some dark,
irregular object. As we ran towards it the vague outline hardened into a
definite shape. It was a prostrate man face downward upon the ground, the
head doubled under him at a horrible angle, the shoulders rounded and the
body hunched together as if in the act of throwing a somersault. So
grotesque was the attitude that I could not for the instant realise that
that moan had been the passing of his soul. Not a whisper, not a rustle,
rose now from the dark figure over which we stooped. Holmes laid his hand
upon him and held it up again with an exclamation of horror. The gleam of
the match which he struck shone upon his clotted fingers and upon the
ghastly pool which widened slowly from the crushed skull of the victim.
And it shone upon something else which turned our hearts sick and faint
within us—the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!</p>
<p>There was no chance of either of us forgetting that peculiar ruddy tweed
suit—the very one which he had worn on the first morning that we had
seen him in Baker Street. We caught the one clear glimpse of it, and then
the match flickered and went out, even as the hope had gone out of our
souls. Holmes groaned, and his face glimmered white through the darkness.</p>
<p>“The brute! The brute!” I cried with clenched hands. “Oh Holmes, I shall
never forgive myself for having left him to his fate.”</p>
<p>“I am more to blame than you, Watson. In order to have my case well
rounded and complete, I have thrown away the life of my client. It is the
greatest blow which has befallen me in my career. But how could I know—how
<i>could</i> I know—that he would risk his life alone upon the moor in the
face of all my warnings?”</p>
<p>“That we should have heard his screams—my God, those screams!—and
yet have been unable to save him! Where is this brute of a hound which
drove him to his death? It may be lurking among these rocks at this
instant. And Stapleton, where is he? He shall answer for this deed.”</p>
<p>“He shall. I will see to that. Uncle and nephew have been murdered—the
one frightened to death by the very sight of a beast which he thought to
be supernatural, the other driven to his end in his wild flight to escape
from it. But now we have to prove the connection between the man and the
beast. Save from what we heard, we cannot even swear to the existence of
the latter, since Sir Henry has evidently died from the fall. But, by
heavens, cunning as he is, the fellow shall be in my power before another
day is past!”</p>
<p>We stood with bitter hearts on either side of the mangled body,
overwhelmed by this sudden and irrevocable disaster which had brought all
our long and weary labours to so piteous an end. Then as the moon rose we
climbed to the top of the rocks over which our poor friend had fallen, and
from the summit we gazed out over the shadowy moor, half silver and half
gloom. Far away, miles off, in the direction of Grimpen, a single steady
yellow light was shining. It could only come from the lonely abode of the
Stapletons. With a bitter curse I shook my fist at it as I gazed.</p>
<p>“Why should we not seize him at once?”</p>
<p>“Our case is not complete. The fellow is wary and cunning to the last
degree. It is not what we know, but what we can prove. If we make one
false move the villain may escape us yet.”</p>
<p>“What can we do?”</p>
<p>“There will be plenty for us to do tomorrow. Tonight we can only perform
the last offices to our poor friend.”</p>
<p>Together we made our way down the precipitous slope and approached the
body, black and clear against the silvered stones. The agony of those
contorted limbs struck me with a spasm of pain and blurred my eyes with
tears.</p>
<p>“We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all the way to the
Hall. Good heavens, are you mad?”</p>
<p>He had uttered a cry and bent over the body. Now he was dancing and
laughing and wringing my hand. Could this be my stern, self-contained
friend? These were hidden fires, indeed!</p>
<p>“A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!”</p>
<p>“A beard?”</p>
<p>“It is not the baronet—it is—why, it is my neighbour, the
convict!”</p>
<p>With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and that dripping beard
was pointing up to the cold, clear moon. There could be no doubt about the
beetling forehead, the sunken animal eyes. It was indeed the same face
which had glared upon me in the light of the candle from over the rock—the
face of Selden, the criminal.</p>
<p>Then in an instant it was all clear to me. I remembered how the baronet
had told me that he had handed his old wardrobe to Barrymore. Barrymore
had passed it on in order to help Selden in his escape. Boots, shirt, cap—it
was all Sir Henry’s. The tragedy was still black enough, but this man had
at least deserved death by the laws of his country. I told Holmes how the
matter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulness and joy.</p>
<p>“Then the clothes have been the poor devil’s death,” said he. “It is clear
enough that the hound has been laid on from some article of Sir Henry’s—the
boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in all probability—and so
ran this man down. There is one very singular thing, however: How came
Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was on his trail?”</p>
<p>“He heard him.”</p>
<p>“To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man like this convict
into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recapture by screaming
wildly for help. By his cries he must have run a long way after he knew
the animal was on his track. How did he know?”</p>
<p>“A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that all our
conjectures are correct—”</p>
<p>“I presume nothing.”</p>
<p>“Well, then, why this hound should be loose tonight. I suppose that it
does not always run loose upon the moor. Stapleton would not let it go
unless he had reason to think that Sir Henry would be there.”</p>
<p>“My difficulty is the more formidable of the two, for I think that we
shall very shortly get an explanation of yours, while mine may remain
forever a mystery. The question now is, what shall we do with this poor
wretch’s body? We cannot leave it here to the foxes and the ravens.”</p>
<p>“I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we can communicate with
the police.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. I have no doubt that you and I could carry it so far. Halloa,
Watson, what’s this? It’s the man himself, by all that’s wonderful and
audacious! Not a word to show your suspicions—not a word, or my
plans crumble to the ground.”</p>
<p>A figure was approaching us over the moor, and I saw the dull red glow of
a cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I could distinguish the dapper shape
and jaunty walk of the naturalist. He stopped when he saw us, and then
came on again.</p>
<p>“Why, Dr. Watson, that’s not you, is it? You are the last man that I
should have expected to see out on the moor at this time of night. But,
dear me, what’s this? Somebody hurt? Not—don’t tell me that it is
our friend Sir Henry!” He hurried past me and stooped over the dead man. I
heard a sharp intake of his breath and the cigar fell from his fingers.</p>
<p>“Who—who’s this?” he stammered.</p>
<p>“It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown.”</p>
<p>Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supreme effort he had
overcome his amazement and his disappointment. He looked sharply from
Holmes to me. “Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?”</p>
<p>“He appears to have broken his neck by falling over these rocks. My friend
and I were strolling on the moor when we heard a cry.”</p>
<p>“I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I was uneasy about Sir
Henry.”</p>
<p>“Why about Sir Henry in particular?” I could not help asking.</p>
<p>“Because I had suggested that he should come over. When he did not come I
was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed for his safety when I heard
cries upon the moor. By the way”—his eyes darted again from my face
to Holmes’s—“did you hear anything else besides a cry?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Holmes; “did you?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean, then?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you know the stories that the peasants tell about a phantom hound,
and so on. It is said to be heard at night upon the moor. I was wondering
if there were any evidence of such a sound tonight.”</p>
<p>“We heard nothing of the kind,” said I.</p>
<p>“And what is your theory of this poor fellow’s death?”</p>
<p>“I have no doubt that anxiety and exposure have driven him off his head.
He has rushed about the moor in a crazy state and eventually fallen over
here and broken his neck.”</p>
<p>“That seems the most reasonable theory,” said Stapleton, and he gave a
sigh which I took to indicate his relief. “What do you think about it, Mr.
Sherlock Holmes?”</p>
<p>My friend bowed his compliments. “You are quick at identification,” said
he.</p>
<p>“We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watson came down. You
are in time to see a tragedy.”</p>
<p>“Yes, indeed. I have no doubt that my friend’s explanation will cover the
facts. I will take an unpleasant remembrance back to London with me
tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you return tomorrow?”</p>
<p>“That is my intention.”</p>
<p>“I hope your visit has cast some light upon those occurrences which have
puzzled us?”</p>
<p>Holmes shrugged his shoulders.</p>
<p>“One cannot always have the success for which one hopes. An investigator
needs facts and not legends or rumours. It has not been a satisfactory
case.”</p>
<p>My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner. Stapleton
still looked hard at him. Then he turned to me.</p>
<p>“I would suggest carrying this poor fellow to my house, but it would give
my sister such a fright that I do not feel justified in doing it. I think
that if we put something over his face he will be safe until morning.”</p>
<p>And so it was arranged. Resisting Stapleton’s offer of hospitality, Holmes
and I set off to Baskerville Hall, leaving the naturalist to return alone.
Looking back we saw the figure moving slowly away over the broad moor, and
behind him that one black smudge on the silvered slope which showed where
the man was lying who had come so horribly to his end.</p>
<p>“We’re at close grips at last,” said Holmes as we walked together across
the moor. “What a nerve the fellow has! How he pulled himself together in
the face of what must have been a paralyzing shock when he found that the
wrong man had fallen a victim to his plot. I told you in London, Watson,
and I tell you now again, that we have never had a foeman more worthy of
our steel.”</p>
<p>“I am sorry that he has seen you.”</p>
<p>“And so was I at first. But there was no getting out of it.”</p>
<p>“What effect do you think it will have upon his plans now that he knows
you are here?”</p>
<p>“It may cause him to be more cautious, or it may drive him to desperate
measures at once. Like most clever criminals, he may be too confident in
his own cleverness and imagine that he has completely deceived us.”</p>
<p>“Why should we not arrest him at once?”</p>
<p>“My dear Watson, you were born to be a man of action. Your instinct is
always to do something energetic. But supposing, for argument’s sake, that
we had him arrested tonight, what on earth the better off should we be for
that? We could prove nothing against him. There’s the devilish cunning of
it! If he were acting through a human agent we could get some evidence,
but if we were to drag this great dog to the light of day it would not
help us in putting a rope round the neck of its master.”</p>
<p>“Surely we have a case.”</p>
<p>“Not a shadow of one—only surmise and conjecture. We should be
laughed out of court if we came with such a story and such evidence.”</p>
<p>“There is Sir Charles’s death.”</p>
<p>“Found dead without a mark upon him. You and I know that he died of sheer
fright, and we know also what frightened him, but how are we to get twelve
stolid jurymen to know it? What signs are there of a hound? Where are the
marks of its fangs? Of course we know that a hound does not bite a dead
body and that Sir Charles was dead before ever the brute overtook him. But
we have to prove all this, and we are not in a position to do it.”</p>
<p>“Well, then, tonight?”</p>
<p>“We are not much better off tonight. Again, there was no direct connection
between the hound and the man’s death. We never saw the hound. We heard
it, but we could not prove that it was running upon this man’s trail.
There is a complete absence of motive. No, my dear fellow; we must
reconcile ourselves to the fact that we have no case at present, and that
it is worth our while to run any risk in order to establish one.”</p>
<p>“And how do you propose to do so?”</p>
<p>“I have great hopes of what Mrs. Laura Lyons may do for us when the
position of affairs is made clear to her. And I have my own plan as well.
Sufficient for tomorrow is the evil thereof; but I hope before the day is
past to have the upper hand at last.”</p>
<p>I could draw nothing further from him, and he walked, lost in thought, as
far as the Baskerville gates.</p>
<p>“Are you coming up?”</p>
<p>“Yes; I see no reason for further concealment. But one last word, Watson.
Say nothing of the hound to Sir Henry. Let him think that Selden’s death
was as Stapleton would have us believe. He will have a better nerve for
the ordeal which he will have to undergo tomorrow, when he is engaged, if
I remember your report aright, to dine with these people.”</p>
<p>“And so am I.”</p>
<p>“Then you must excuse yourself and he must go alone. That will be easily
arranged. And now, if we are too late for dinner, I think that we are both
ready for our suppers.”</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />