Chapter 9 The light upon the moor (Second Report of Dr. Watson)

Baskerville Hall, Oct. 15th.

MY DEAR HOLMES,--If I was compelled to leave you without much

news during the early days of my mission you must acknowledge

that I am making up for lost time, and that events are now

crowding thick and fast upon us. In my last report I ended upon

my top note with Barrymore at the window, and now I have quite a

budget already which will, unless I am much mistaken,

considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I could

not have anticipated. In some ways they have within the last

forty-eight hours become much clearer and in some ways they have

become more complicated. But I will tell you all and you shall

judge for yourself.

Before breakfast on the morning following my adventure I went

down the corridor and examined the room in which Barrymore had

been on the night before. The western window through which he had

stared so intently has, I noticed, one peculiarity above all

other windows in the house--it commands the nearest outlook on

the moor. There is an opening between two trees which enables one

from this point of view to look right down upon it, while from

all the other windows it is only a distant glimpse which can be

obtained. It follows, therefore, that Barrymore, since only this

window would serve the purpose, must have been looking out for

something or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark, so

that I can hardly imagine how he could have hoped to see anyone.

It had struck me that it was possible that some love intrigue was

on foot. That would have accounted for his stealthy movements and

also for the uneasiness of his wife. The man is a

striking-looking fellow, very well equipped to steal the heart of

a country girl, so that this theory seemed to have something to

support it. That opening of the door which I had heard after I

had returned to my room might mean that he had gone out to keep

some clandestine appointment. So I reasoned with myself in the

morning, and I tell you the direction of my suspicions, however

much the result may have shown that they were unfounded.

But whatever the true explanation of Barrymore's movements might

be, I felt that the responsibility of keeping them to myself

until I could explain them was more than I could bear. I had an

interview with the baronet in his study after breakfast, and I

told him all that I had seen. He was less surprised than I had

expected.

"I knew that Barrymore walked about nights, and I had a mind to

speak to him about it," said he. "Two or three times I have heard

his steps in the passage, coming and going, just about the hour

you name."

"Perhaps then he pays a visit every night to that particular

window," I suggested.

"Perhaps he does. If so, we should be able to shadow him, and see

what it is that he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmes

would do, if he were here."

"I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest," said

I. "He would follow Barrymore and see what he did."

"Then we shall do it together."

"But surely he would hear us."

"The man is rather deaf, and in any case we must take our chance

of that. We'll sit up in my room to-night and wait until he

passes." Sir Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was

evident that he hailed the adventure as a relief to his somewhat

quiet life upon the moor.

The baronet has been in communication with the architect who

prepared the plans for Sir Charles, and with a contractor from

London, so that we may expect great changes to begin here soon.

There have been decorators and furnishers up from Plymouth, and

it is evident that our friend has large ideas, and means to spare

no pains or expense to restore the grandeur of his family. When

the house is renovated and refurnished, all that he will need

will be a wife to make it complete. Between ourselves there are

pretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if the lady is

willing, for I have seldom seen a man more infatuated with a

woman than he is with our beautiful neighbour, Miss Stapleton.

And yet the course of true love does not run quite as smoothly as

one would under the circumstances expect. To-day, for example,

its surface was broken by a very unexpected ripple, which has

caused our friend considerable perplexity and annoyance.

After the conversation which I have quoted about Barrymore, Sir

Henry put on his hat and prepared to go out. As a matter of

course I did the same.

"What, are you coming, Watson?" he asked, looking at me in a

curious way.

"That depends on whether you are going on the moor," said I.

"Yes, I am."

"Well, you know what my instructions are. I am sorry to intrude,

but you heard how earnestly Holmes insisted that I should not

leave you, and especially that you should not go alone upon the

moor."

Sir Henry put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasant smile.

"My dear fellow," said he, "Holmes, with all his wisdom, did not

foresee some things which have happened since I have been on the

moor. You understand me? I am sure that you are the last man in

the world who would wish to be a spoil-sport. I must go out

alone."

It put me in a most awkward position. I was at a loss what to say

or what to do, and before I had made up my mind he picked up his

cane and was gone.

But when I came to think the matter over my conscience reproached

me bitterly for having on any pretext allowed him to go out of my

sight. I imagined what my feelings would be if I had to return to

you and to confess that some misfortune had occurred through my

disregard for your instructions. I assure you my cheeks flushed

at the very thought. It might not even now be too late to

overtake him, so I set off at once in the direction of Merripit

House.

I hurried along the road at the top of my speed without seeing

anything of Sir Henry, until I came to the point where the moor

path branches off. There, fearing that perhaps I had come in the

wrong direction after all, I mounted a hill from which I could

command a view--the same hill which is cut into the dark quarry.

Thence I saw him at once. He was on the moor path, about a

quarter of a mile off, and a lady was by his side who could only

be Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there was already an

understanding between them and that they had met by appointment.

They were walking slowly along in deep conversation, and I saw

her making quick little movements of her hands as if she were

very earnest in what she was saying, while he listened intently,

and once or twice shook his head in strong dissent. I stood among

the rocks watching them, very much puzzled as to what I should do

next. To follow them and break into their intimate conversation

seemed to be an outrage, and yet my clear duty was never for an

instant to let him out of my sight. To act the spy upon a friend

was a hateful task. Still, I could see no better course than to

observe him from the hill, and to clear my conscience by

confessing to him afterwards what I had done. It is true that if

any sudden danger had threatened him I was too far away to be of

use, and yet I am sure that you will agree with me that the

position was very difficult, and that there was nothing more

which I could do.

Our friend, Sir Henry, and the lady had halted on the path and

were standing deeply absorbed in their conversation, when I was

suddenly aware that I was not the only witness of their

interview. A wisp of green floating in the air caught my eye, and

another glance showed me that it was carried on a stick by a man

who was moving among the broken ground. It was Stapleton with his

butterfly-net. He was very much closer to the pair than I was,

and he appeared to be moving in their direction. At this instant

Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side. His arm was

round her, but it seemed to me that she was straining away from

him with her face averted. He stooped his head to hers, and she

raised one hand as if in protest. Next moment I saw them spring

apart and turn hurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause of the

interruption. He was running wildly towards them, his absurd net

dangling behind him. He gesticulated and almost danced with

excitement in front of the lovers. What the scene meant I could

not imagine, but it seemed to me that Stapleton was abusing Sir

Henry, who offered explanations, which became more angry as the

other refused to accept them. The lady stood by in haughty

silence. Finally Stapleton turned upon his heel and beckoned in a

peremptory way to his sister, who, after an irresolute glance at

Sir Henry, walked off by the side of her brother. The

naturalist's angry gestures showed that the lady was included in

his displeasure. The baronet stood for a minute looking after

them, and then he walked slowly back the way that he had come,

his head hanging, the very picture of dejection.

What all this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply ashamed

to have witnessed so intimate a scene without my friend's

knowledge. I ran down the hill therefore and met the baronet at

the bottom. His face was flushed with anger and his brows were

wrinkled, like one who is at his wit's ends what to do.

"Halloa, Watson! Where have you dropped from?" said he."You don't

mean to say that you came after me in spite of all?"

I explained everything to him: how I had found it impossible to

remain behind, how I had followed him, and how I had witnessed

all that had occurred. For an instant his eyes blazed at me, but

my frankness disarmed his anger, and he broke at last into a

rather rueful laugh.

"You would have thought the middle of that prairie a fairly safe

place for a man to be private," said he, "but, by thunder, the

whole countryside seems to have been out to see me do my

wooing--and a mighty poor wooing at that! Where had you engaged a

seat?"

"I was on that hill."

"Quite in the back row, eh? But her brother was well up to the

front. Did you see him come out on us?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did he ever strike you as being crazy--this brother of hers?"

"I can't say that he ever did."

"I dare say not. I always thought him sane enough until to-day,

but you can take it from me that either he or I ought to be in a

strait-jacket. What's the matter with me, anyhow? You've lived

near me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Is there

anything that would prevent me from making a good husband to a

woman that I loved?"

"I should say not."

"He can't object to my worldly position, so it must be myself

that he has this down on. What has he against me? I never hurt

man or woman in my life that I know of. And yet he would not so

much as let me touch the tips of her fingers."

"Did he say so?"

"That, and a deal more. I tell you, Watson, I've only known her

these few weeks, but from the first I just felt that she was made

for me, and she, too--she was happy when she was with me, and

that I'll swear. There's a light in a woman's eyes that speaks

louder than words. But he has never let us get together, and it

was only to-day for the first time that I saw a chance of having

a few words with her alone. She was glad to meet me, but when she

did it was not love that she would talk about, and she wouldn't

have let me talk about it either if she could have stopped it.

She kept coming back to it that this was a place of danger, and

that she would never be happy until I had left it. I told her

that since I had seen her I was in no hurry to leave it, and that

if she really wanted me to go, the only way to work it was for

her to arrange to go with me. With that I offered in as many

words to marry her, but before she could answer down came this

brother of hers, running at us with a face on him like a madman.

He was just white with rage, and those light eyes of his were

blazing with fury. What was I doing with the lady? How dared I

offer her attentions which were distasteful to her? Did I think

that because I was a baronet I could do what I liked? If he had

not been her brother I should have known better how to answer

him. As it was I told him that my feelings towards his sister

were such as I was not ashamed of, and that I hoped that she

might honour me by becoming my wife. That seemed to make the

matter no better, so then I lost my temper too, and I answered

him rather more hotly than I should perhaps, considering that she

was standing by. So it ended by his going off with her, as you

saw, and here am I as badly puzzled a man as any in this county.

Just tell me what it all means, Watson, and I'll owe you more

than ever I can hope to pay."

I tried one or two explanations, but, indeed, I was completely

puzzled myself. Our friend's title, his fortune, his age, his

character, and his appearance are all in his favour, and I know

nothing against him unless it be this dark fate which runs in his

family. That his advances should be rejected so brusquely without

any reference to the lady's own wishes, and that the lady should

accept the situation without protest, is very amazing. However,

our conjectures were set at rest by a visit from Stapleton

himself that very afternoon. He had come to offer apologies for

his rudeness of the morning, and after a long private interview

with Sir Henry in his study, the upshot of their conversation was

that the breach is quite healed, and that we are to dine at

Merripit House next Friday as a sign of it.

"l don't say now that he isn't a crazy man," said Sir Henry; "I

can't forget the look in his eyes when he ran at me this morning,

but I must allow that no man could make a more handsome apology

than he has done."

"Did he give any explanation of his conduct?"

"His sister is everything in his life, he says. That is natural

enough, and I am glad that he should understand her value. They

have always been together, and according to his account he has

been a very lonely man with only her as a companion, so that the

thought of losing her was really terrible to him. He had not

understood, he said, that I was becoming attached to her, but

when he saw with his own eyes that it was really so, and that she

might be taken away from him, it gave him such a shock that for a

time he was not responsible for what he said or did. He was very

sorry for all that had passed, and he recognized how foolish and

how selfish it was that he should imagine that he could hold a

beautiful woman like his sister to himself for her whole life. If

she had to leave him he had rather it was to a neighbour like

myself than to anyone else. But in any case it was a blow to him,

and it would take him some time before he could prepare himself

to meet it. He would withdraw all opposition upon his part if I

would promise for three months to let the matter rest and to be

content with cultivating the lady's friendship during that time

without claiming her love. This I promised, and so the matter

rests."

So there is one of our small mysteries cleared up. It is

something to have touched bottom anywhere in this bog in which we

are floundering. We know now why Stapleton looked with disfavour

upon his sister's suitor--even when that suitor was so eligible a

one as Sir Henry. And now I pass on to another thread which I

have extricated out of the tangled skein, the mystery of the sobs

in the night, of the tear-stained face of Mrs. Barrymore, of the

secret journey of the butler to the western lattice window.

Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have not

disappointed you as an agent--that you do not regret the

confidence which you showed in me when you sent me down. All

these things have by one night's work been thoroughly cleared.

I have said "by one night's work," but, in truth, it was by two

nights' work, for on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat up

with Sir Henry in his rooms until nearly three o'clock in the

morning, but no sound of any sort did we hear except the chiming

clock upon the stairs. It was a most melancholy vigil, and ended

by each of us falling asleep in our chairs. Fortunately we were

not discouraged, and we determined to try again. The next night

we lowered the lamp, and sat smoking cigarettes without making

the least sound. It was incredible how slowly the hours crawled

by, and yet we were helped through it by the same sort of patient

interest which the hunter must feel as he watches the trap into

which he hopes the game may wander. One struck, and two, and we

had almost for the second time given it up in despair, when in an

instant we both sat bolt upright in our chairs, with all our

weary senses keenly on the alert once more. We had heard the

creak of a step in the passage.

Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in the

distance. Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set out

in pursuit. Already our man had gone round the gallery, and the

corridor was all in darkness. Softly we stole along until we had

come into the other wing. We were just in time to catch a glimpse

of the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded, as he

tip-toed down the passage. Then he passed through the same door

as before, and the light of the candle framed it in the darkness

and shot one single yellow beam across the gloom of the corridor.

We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank before we

dared to put our whole weight upon it. We had taken the

precaution of leaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the old

boards snapped and creaked beneath our tread. Sometimes it seemed

impossible that he should fail to hear our approach. However, the

man is fortunately rather deaf, and he was entirely preoccupied

in that which he was doing. When at last we reached the door and

peeped through we found him crouching at the window, candle in

hand, his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly as

I had seen him two nights before.

We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is a man to

whom the most direct way is always the most natural. He walked

into the room, and as he did so Barrymore sprang up from the

window with a sharp hiss of his breath and stood, livid and

trembling, before us. His dark eyes, glaring out of the white

mask of his face, were full of horror and astonishment as he

gazed from Sir Henry to me.

"What are you doing here, Barrymore?"

"Nothing, sir." His agitation was so great that he could hardly

speak, and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking of his

candle. "It was the window, sir. I go round at night to see that

they are fastened."

"On the second floor?"

"Yes, sir, all the windows."

"Look here, Barrymore," said Sir Henry, sternly; "we have made up

our minds to have the truth out of you, so it will save you

trouble to tell it sooner rather than later. Come, now! No lies!

What were you doing at that window?"

The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and he wrung his hands

together like one who is in the last extremity of doubt and

misery.

"I was doing no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to the window."

"And why were you holding a candle to the window?"

"Don't ask me, Sir Henry--don't ask me! I give you my word, sir,

that it is not my secret, and that I cannot tell it. If it

concerned no one but myself I would not try to keep it from you."

A sudden idea occurred to me, and I took the candle from the

trembling hand of the butler.

"He must have been holding it as a signal," said I. "Let us see

if there is any answer." I held it as he had done, and stared out

into the darkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern the black

bank of the trees and the lighter expanse of the moor, for the

moon was behind the clouds. And then I gave a cry of exultation,

for a tiny pin-point of yellow light had suddenly transfixed the

dark veil, and glowed steadily in the centre of the black square

framed by the window.

"There it is!" I cried.

"No, no, sir, it is nothing--nothing at all!" the butler broke

in; "I assure you, sir ----"

"Move your light across the window, Watson!" cried the baronet.

"See, the other moves also! Now, you rascal, do you deny that it

is a signal? Come, speak up! Who is your confederate out yonder,

and what is this conspiracy that is going on?"

The man's face became openly defiant.

"It is my business, and not yours. I will not tell."

"Then you leave my employment right away."

"Very good, sir. If I must I must."

"And you go in disgrace. By thunder, you may well be ashamed of

yourself. Your family has lived with mine for over a hundred

years under this roof, and here I find you deep in some dark plot

against me."

"No, no, sir; no, not against you!" It was a woman's voice, and

Mrs. Barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than her husband,

was standing at the door. Her bulky figure in a shawl and skirt

might have been comic were it not for the intensity of feeling

upon her face.

"We have to go, Eliza. This is the end of it. You can pack our

things," said the butler.

"Oh, John, John, have I brought you to this? It is my doing, Sir

Henry--all mine. He has done nothing except for my sake and

because I asked him."

"Speak out, then! What does it mean?"

"My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot let him

perish at our very gates. The light is a signal to him that food

is ready for him, and his light out yonder is to show the spot to

which to bring it."

"Then your brother is --"

"The escaped convict, sir--Selden, the criminal."

"That's the truth, sir," said Barrymore. "I said that it was not

my secret and that I could not tell it to you. But now you have

heard it, and you will see that if there was a plot it was not

against you."

This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions at

night and the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both stared at

the woman in amazement. Was it possible that this stolidly

respectable person was of the same blood as one of the most

notorious criminals in the country?

"Yes, sir, my name was Selden, and he is my younger brother. We

humoured him too much when he was a lad, and gave him his own way

in everything until he came to think that the world was made for

his pleasure, and that he could do what he liked in it. Then as

he grew older he met wicked companions, and the devil entered

into him until he broke my mother's heart and dragged our name in

the dirt. From crime to crime he sank lower and lower, until it

is only the mercy of God which has snatched him from the

scaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the little curly-headed

boy that I had nursed and played with, as an elder sister would.

That was why he broke prison, sir. He knew that I was here and

that we could not refuse to help him. When he dragged himself

here one night, weary and starving, with the warders hard at his

heels, what could we do? We took him in and fed him and cared for

him. Then you returned, sir, and my brother thought he would be

safer on the moor than anywhere else until the hue and cry was

over, so he lay in hiding there. But every second night we made

sure if he was still there by putting a light in the window, and

if there was an answer my husband took out some bread and meat to

him. Every day we hoped that he was gone, but as long as he was

there we could not desert him. That is the whole truth, as I am

an honest Christian woman, and you will see that if there is

blame in the matter it does not lie with my husband, but with me,

for whose sake he has done all that he has."

The woman's words came with an intense earnestness which carried

conviction with them.

"Is this true, Barrymore?"

"Yes, Sir Henry. Every word of it."

"Well, I cannot blame you for standing by your own wife. Forget

what I have said. Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk

further about this matter in the morning."

When they were gone we looked out of the window again. Sir Henry

had flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in upon our

faces. Far away in the black distance there still glowed that one

tiny point of yellow light.

"I wonder he dares," said Sir Henry.

"It may be so placed as to be only visible from here."

"Very likely. How far do you think it is?"

"Out by the Cleft Tor, I think."

"Not more than a mile or two off."

"Hardly that."

"Well, it cannot be far if Barrymore had to carry out the food to

it. And he is waiting, this villain, beside that candle. By

thunder, Watson, I am going out to take that man!"

The same thought had crossed my own mind. It was not as if the

Barrymores had taken us into their confidence. Their secret had

been forced from them. The man was a danger to the community, an

unmitigated scoundrel for whom there was neither pity nor excuse.

We were only doing our duty in taking this chance of putting him

back where he could do no harm. With his brutal and violent

nature, others would have to pay the price if we held our hands.

Any night, for example, our neighbours the Stapletons might be

attacked by him, and it may have been the thought of this which

made Sir Henry so keen upon the adventure.

"I will come," said I.

"Then get your revolver and put on your boots. The sooner we

start the better, as the fellow may put out his light and be

off."

In five minutes we were outside the door, starting upon our

expedition. We hurried through the dark shrubbery, amid the dull

moaning of the autumn wind and the rustle of the falling leaves.

The night air was heavy with the smell of damp and decay. Now and

again the moon peeped out for an instant, but clouds were driving

over the face of the sky, and just as we came out on the moor a

thin rain began to fall. The light still burned steadily in

front.

"Are you armed?" I asked.

"I have a hunting-crop."

"We must close in on him rapidly, for he is said to be a

desperate fellow. We shall take him by surprise and have him at

our mercy before he can resist."

"I say, Watson," said the baronet, "what would Holmes say to

this? How about that hour of darkness in which the power of evil

is exalted?"

As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vast

gloom of the moor that strange cry which I had already heard upon

the borders of the great Grimpen Mire. It came with the wind

through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a

rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Again

and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident,

wild, and menacing. The baronet caught my sleeve and his face

glimmered white through the darkness.

"My God, what's that, Watson?"

"I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor. I heard it

once before."

It died away, and an absolute silence closed in upon us. We stood

straining our ears, but nothing came.

"Watson," said the baronet, "it was the cry of a hound."

My blood ran cold in my veins, for there was a break in his voice

which told of the sudden horror which had seized him.

"What do they call this sound?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The folk on the country-side."

"Oh, they are ignorant people. Why should you mind what they call

it?"

"Tell me, Watson. What do they say of it?"

I hesitated but could not escape the question.

"They say it is the cry of the Hound of the Baskervilles."

He groaned and was silent for a few moments.

"A hound it was," he said, at last, "but it seemed to come from

miles away, over yonder, I think."

"It was hard to say whence it came."

"It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't that the direction of the

great Grimpen Mire?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, it was up there. Come now, Watson, didn't you think

yourself that it was the cry of a hound? I am not a child. You

need not fear to speak the truth."

"Stapleton was with me when I heard it last. He said that it

might be the calling of a strange bird."

"No, no, it was a hound. My God, can there be some truth in all

these stories? Is it possible that I am really in danger from so

dark a cause? You don't believe it, do you, Watson?"

"No, no."

"And yet it was one thing to laugh about it in London, and it is

another to stand out here in the darkness of the moor and to hear

such a cry as that. And my uncle! There was the footprint of the

hound beside him as he lay. It all fits together. I don't think

that I am a coward, Watson, but that sound seemed to freeze my

very blood. Feel my hand!"

It was as cold as a block of marble.

"You'll be all right to-morrow."

"I don't think I'll get that cry out of my head. What do you

advise that we do now?"

"Shall we turn back?"

"No, by thunder; we have come out to get our man, and we will do

it. We after the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely as not,

after us. Come on! We'll see it through if all the fiends of the

pit were loose upon the moor."

We stumbled slowly along in the darkness, with the black loom of

the craggy hills around us, and the yellow speck of light burning

steadily in front. There is nothing so deceptive as the distance

of a light upon a pitch-dark night, and sometimes the glimmer

seemed to be far away upon the horizon and sometimes it might

have been within a few yards of us. But at last we could see

whence it came, and then we knew that we were indeed very close.

A guttering candle was stuck in a crevice of the rocks which

flanked it on each side so as to keep the wind from it and also

to prevent it from being visible, save in the direction of

Baskerville Hall. A boulder of granite concealed our approach,and

crouching behind it we gazed over it at the signal light. It was

strange to see this single candle burning there in the middle of

the moor, with no sign of life near it--just the one straight

yellow flame and the gleam of the rock on each side of it.

"What shall we do now?" whispered Sir Henry.

"Wait here. He must be near his light. Let us see if we can get a

glimpse of him."

The words were hardly out of my mouth when we both saw him. Over

the rocks, in the crevice of which the candle burned, there was

thrust out an evil yellow face, a terrible animal face, all

seamed and scored with vile passions. Foul with mire, with a

bristling beard, and hung with matted hair, it might well have

belonged to one of those old savages who dwelt in the burrows on

the hillsides. The light beneath him was reflected in his small,

cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right and left through the

darkness, like a crafty and savage animal who has heard the steps

of the hunters.

Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It may have been

that Barrymore had some private signal which we had neglected to

give, or the fellow may have had some other reason for thinking

that all was not well, but I could read his fears upon his wicked

face. Any instant he might dash out the light and vanish in the

darkness. I sprang forward therefore, and Sir Henry did the same.

At the same moment the convict screamed out a curse at us and

hurled a rock which splintered up against the boulder which had

sheltered us. I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, strongly-

built figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run. At the

same moment by a lucky chance the moon broke through the clouds.

We rushed over the brow of the hill, and there was our man

running with great speed down the other side, springing over the

stones in his way with the activity of a mountain goat. A lucky

long shot of my revolver might have crippled him, but I had

brought it only to defend myself if attacked, and not to shoot an

unarmed man who was running away.

We were both swift runners and in fairly good training, but we

soon found that we had no chance of over taking him. We saw him

for a long time in the moonlight until he was only a small speck

moving swiftly among the boulders upon the side of a distant

hill. We ran and ran until we were completely blown, but the

space between us grew ever wider. Finally we stopped and sat

panting on two rocks, while we watched him disappearing in the

distance.

And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strange and

unexpected thing. We had risen from our rocks and were turning to

go home, having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was low

upon the right, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor stood up

against the lower curve of its silver disc. There, outlined as

black as an ebony statue on that shining back-ground, I saw the

figure of a man upon the tor. Do not think that it was a

delusion, Holmes. I assure you that I have never in my life seen

anything more clearly. As far as I could judge, the figure was

that of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legs a little

separated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as if he were

brooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granite which

lay before him. He might have been the very spirit of that

terrible place. It was not the convict. This man was far from the

place where the latter had disappeared. Besides, he was a much

taller man. With a cry of surprise I pointed him out to the

baronet, but in the instant during which I had turned to grasp

his arm the man was gone. There was the sharp pinnacle of granite

still cutting the lower edge of the moon, but its peak bore no

trace of that silent and motionless figure.

I wished to go in that direction and to search the tor, but it

was some distance away. The baronet's nerves were still quivering

from that cry, which recalled the dark story of his family, and

he was not in the mood for fresh adventures. He had not seen this

lonely man upon the tor and could not feel the thrill which his

strange presence and his commanding attitude had given to me. "A

warder, no doubt," said he. "The moor has been thick with them

since this fellow escaped." Well, perhaps his explanation may be

the right one, but I should like to have some further proof of

it. To-day we mean to communicate to the Princetown people where

they should look for their missing man, but it is hard lines that

we have not actually had the triumph of bringing him back as our

own prisoner. Such are the adventures of last night, and you must

acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well in

the matter of a report. Much of what I tell you is no doubt quite

irrelevant, but still I feel that it is best that I should let

you have all the facts and leave you to select for yourself those

which will be of most service to you in helping you to your

conclusions. We are certainly making some progress. So far as the

Barrymores go we have found the motive of their actions, and that

has cleared up the situation very much. But the moor with its

mysteries and its strange inhabitants remains as inscrutable as

ever. Perhaps in my next I may be able to throw some light upon

this also. Best of all would it be if you could come down to us.

In any case you will hear from me again in the course of the next

few days.

Read next: Chapter 10 Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson

Read previous: Chapter 8 First Report of Dr. Watson

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