Chapter 9. The Light upon the Moor [Second Report of Dr. Watson]

ngherwasreallyterribletohim.Hehadnotunderstood,hesaid,thatIwasbecomingattachedtoher,butwhenhesawwithhisowneyesthatitwasreallyso,andthatshemightbetakenawayfromhim,itgavehimsuchashockthatforatimehewasnotresponsibleforwhathesaidordid.Hewasverysorryforallthathadpassed,andherecognizedhowfoolishandhowselfishitwasthatheshouldimaginethathecouldholdabeautifulwomanlikehissistertohimselfforherwholelife.Ifshehadtoleavehimhehadratheritwastoaneighbourlikemyselfthantoanyoneelse.Butinanycaseitwasablowtohimanditwouldtakehimsometimebeforehecouldpreparehimselftomeetit.HewouldwithdrawalloppositionuponhispartifIwouldpromiseforthreemonthstoletthematterrestandtobecontentwithcultivatingthelady’sfriendshipduringthattimewithoutclaimingherlove.ThisIpromised,andsothematterrests.” Sothereisoneofoursmallmysteriesclearedup.Itissomethingtohavetouchedbottomanywhereinthisboginwhichwearefloundering.WeknownowwhyStapletonlookedwithdisfavouruponhissister’ssuitor—evenwhenthatsuitorwassoeligibleaoneasSirHenry.AndnowIpassontoanotherthreadwhichIhaveextricatedoutofthetangledskein,themysteryofthesobsinthenight,ofthetear-stainedfaceofMrs.Barrymore,ofthesecretjourneyofthebutlertothewesternlatticewindow.Congratulateme,mydearHolmes,andtellmethatIhavenotdisappointedyouasanagent—thatyoudonotregrettheconfidencewhichyoushowedinmewhenyousentmedown.Allthesethingshavebyonenight’sworkbeenthoroughlycleared. Ihavesaid“byonenight’swork,”but,intruth,itwasbytwonights’work,foronthefirstwedrewentirelyblank.IsatupwithSirHenryinhisroomsuntilnearlythreeo’clockinthemorning,butnosoundofanysortdidwehearexceptthechimingclockuponthestairs.Itwasamostmelancholyvigilandendedbyeachofusfallingasleepinourchairs.Fortunatelywewerenotdiscouraged,andwedeterminedtotryagain.Thenextnightweloweredthelampandsatsmokingcigaretteswithoutmakingtheleastsound.Itwasincrediblehowslowlythehourscrawledby,andyetwewerehelpedthroughitbythesamesortofpatientinterestwhichthehuntermustfeelashewatchesthetrapintowhichhehopesthegamemaywander.Onestruck,andtwo,andwehadalmostforthesecondtimegivenitupindespairwheninaninstantwebothsatboltuprightinourchairswithallourwearysenseskeenlyonthealertoncemore.Wehadheardthecreakofastepinthepassage. Verystealthilywehearditpassalonguntilitdiedawayinthedistance.Thenthebaronetgentlyopenedhisdoorandwesetoutinpursuit.Alreadyourmanhadgoneroundthegalleryandthecorridorwasallindarkness.Softlywestolealonguntilwehadcomeintotheotherwing.Wewerejustintimetocatchaglimpseofthetall,black-beardedfigure,hisshouldersroundedashetiptoeddownthepassage.Thenhepassedthroughthesamedoorasbefore,andthelightofthecandleframeditinthedarknessandshotonesingleyellowbeamacrossthegloomofthecorridor.Weshuffledcautiouslytowardsit,tryingeveryplankbeforewedaredtoputourwholeweightuponit.Wehadtakentheprecautionofleavingourbootsbehindus,but,evenso,theoldboardssnappedandcreakedbeneathourtread.Sometimesitseemedimpossiblethatheshouldfailtohearourapproach.However,themanisfortunatelyratherdeaf,andhewasentirelypreoccupiedinthatwhichhewasdoing.Whenatlastwereachedthedoorandpeepedthroughwefoundhimcrouchingatthewindow,candleinhand,hiswhite,intentfacepressedagainstthepane,exactlyasIhadseenhimtwonightsbefore. Wehadarrangednoplanofcampaign,butthebaronetisamantowhomthemostdirectwayisalwaysthemostnatural.Hewalkedintotheroom,andashedidsoBarrymoresprangupfromthewindowwithasharphissofhisbreathandstood,lividandtrembling,beforeus.Hisdarkeyes,glaringoutofthewhitemaskofhisface,werefullofhorrorandastonishmentashegazedfromSirHenrytome. “Whatareyoudoinghere,Barrymore?” “Nothing,sir.”Hisagitationwassogreatthathecouldhardlyspeak,andtheshadowssprangupanddownfromtheshakingofhiscandle.“Itwasthewindow,sir.Igoroundatnighttoseethattheyarefastened.” “Onthesecondfloor?” “Yes,sir,allthewindows.” “Lookhere,Barrymore,”saidSirHenrysternly,“wehavemadeupourmindstohavethetruthoutofyou,soitwillsaveyoutroubletotellitsoonerratherthanlater.Come,now!Nolies!Whatwereyoudoingatthatwindow?” Thefellowlookedatusinahelplessway,andhewrunghishandstogetherlikeonewhoisinthelastextremityofdoubtandmisery. “Iwasdoingnoharm,sir.Iwasholdingacandletothewindow.” “Andwhywereyouholdingacandletothewindow?” “Don’taskme,SirHenry—don’taskme!Igiveyoumyword,sir,thatitisnotmysecret,andthatIcannottellit.IfitconcernednoonebutmyselfIwouldnottrytokeepitfromyou.” Asuddenideaoccurredtome,andItookthecandlefromthetremblinghandofthebutler. “Hemusthavebeenholdingitasasignal,”saidI.“Letusseeifthereisanyanswer.”Ihelditashehaddone,andstaredoutintothedarknessofthenight.VaguelyIcoulddiscerntheblackbankofthetreesandthelighterexpanseofthemoor,forthemoonwasbehindtheclouds.AndthenIgaveacryofexultation,foratinypinpointofyellowlighthadsuddenlytransfixedthedarkveil,andglowedsteadilyinthecentreoftheblacksquareframedbythewindow. “Thereitis!”Icried. “No,no,sir,itisnothing—nothingatall!”thebutlerbrokein“Iassureyou,sir—” “Moveyourlightacrossthewindow,Watson!”criedthebaronet.“See,theothermovesalso!Now,yourascal,doyoudenythatitisasignal?Come,speakup!Whoisyourconfederateoutyonder,andwhatisthisconspiracythatisgoingon?” Theman’sfacebecameopenlydefiant.“Itismybusiness,andnotyours.Iwillnottell.” “Thenyouleavemyemploymentrightaway.” “Verygood,sir.IfImustImust.” “Andyougoindisgrace.Bythunder,youmaywellbeashamedofyourself.Yourfamilyhaslivedwithmineforoverahundredyearsunderthisroof,andhereIfindyoudeepinsomedarkplotagainstme.” “No,no,sirno,notagainstyou!”Itwasawoman’svoice,andMrs.Barrymore,palerandmorehorror-struckthanherhusband,wasstandingatthedoor.Herbulkyfigureinashawlandskirtmighthavebeencomicwereitnotfortheintensityoffeelinguponherface. “Wehavetogo,Eliza.Thisistheendofit.Youca