Chapter 11. The Man on the Tor
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TheextractfrommyprivatediarywhichformsthelastchapterhasbroughtmynarrativeuptotheeighteenthofOctober,atimewhenthesestrangeeventsbegantomoveswiftlytowardstheirterribleconclusion.Theincidentsofthenextfewdaysareindeliblygravenuponmyrecollection,andIcantellthemwithoutreferencetothenotesmadeatthetime.IstartthemfromthedaywhichsucceededthatuponwhichIhadestablishedtwofactsofgreatimportance,theonethatMrs.LauraLyonsofCoombeTraceyhadwrittentoSirCharlesBaskervilleandmadeanappointmentwithhimattheveryplaceandhourthathemethisdeath,theotherthatthelurkingmanuponthemoorwastobefoundamongthestonehutsuponthehillside.WiththesetwofactsinmypossessionIfeltthateithermyintelligenceormycouragemustbedeficientifIcouldnotthrowsomefurtherlightuponthesedarkplaces.
IhadnoopportunitytotellthebaronetwhatIhadlearnedaboutMrs.Lyonsupontheeveningbefore,forDr.Mortimerremainedwithhimatcardsuntilitwasverylate.Atbreakfast,however,IinformedhimaboutmydiscoveryandaskedhimwhetherhewouldcaretoaccompanymetoCoombeTracey.Atfirsthewasveryeagertocome,butonsecondthoughtsitseemedtobothofusthatifIwentalonetheresultsmightbebetter.Themoreformalwemadethevisitthelessinformationwemightobtain.IleftSirHenrybehind,therefore,notwithoutsomeprickingsofconscience,anddroveoffuponmynewquest.
WhenIreachedCoombeTraceyItoldPerkinstoputupthehorses,andImadeinquiriesfortheladywhomIhadcometointerrogate.Ihadnodifficultyinfindingherrooms,whichwerecentralandwellappointed.Amaidshowedmeinwithoutceremony,andasIenteredthesitting-roomalady,whowassittingbeforeaRemingtontypewriter,sprangupwithapleasantsmileofwelcome.Herfacefell,however,whenshesawthatIwasastranger,andshesatdownagainandaskedmetheobjectofmyvisit.
ThefirstimpressionleftbyMrs.Lyonswasoneofextremebeauty.Hereyesandhairwereofthesamerichhazelcolour,andhercheeks,thoughconsiderablyfreckled,wereflushedwiththeexquisitebloomofthebrunette,thedaintypinkwhichlurksattheheartofthesulphurrose.Admirationwas,Irepeat,thefirstimpression.Butthesecondwascriticism.Therewassomethingsubtlywrongwiththeface,somecoarsenessofexpression,somehardness,perhaps,ofeye,someloosenessoflipwhichmarreditsperfectbeauty.Butthese,ofcourse,areafterthoughts.AtthemomentIwassimplyconsciousthatIwasinthepresenceofaveryhandsomewoman,andthatshewasaskingmethereasonsformyvisit.Ihadnotquiteunderstooduntilthatinstanthowdelicatemymissionwas.
“Ihavethepleasure,”saidI,“ofknowingyourfather.”
Itwasaclumsyintroduction,andtheladymademefeelit.“Thereisnothingincommonbetweenmyfatherandme,”shesaid.“Iowehimnothing,andhisfriendsarenotmine.IfitwerenotforthelateSirCharlesBaskervilleandsomeotherkindheartsImighthavestarvedforallthatmyfathercared.”
“ItwasaboutthelateSirCharlesBaskervillethatIhavecomeheretoseeyou.”
Thefrecklesstartedoutonthelady’sface.
“WhatcanItellyouabouthim?”sheasked,andherfingersplayednervouslyoverthestopsofhertypewriter.
“Youknewhim,didyounot?”
“IhavealreadysaidthatIoweagreatdealtohiskindness.IfIamabletosupportmyselfitislargelyduetotheinterestwhichhetookinmyunhappysituation.”
“Didyoucorrespondwithhim?”
Theladylookedquicklyupwithanangrygleaminherhazeleyes.
“Whatistheobjectofthesequestions?”sheaskedsharply.
“Theobjectistoavoidapublicscandal.ItisbetterthatIshouldaskthemherethanthatthemattershouldpassoutsideourcontrol.”
Shewassilentandherfacewasstillverypale.Atlastshelookedupwithsomethingrecklessanddefiantinhermanner.
“Well,I’llanswer,”shesaid.“Whatareyourquestions?”
“DidyoucorrespondwithSirCharles?”
“Icertainlywrotetohimonceortwicetoacknowledgehisdelicacyandhisgenerosity.”
“Haveyouthedatesofthoseletters?”
“No.”
“Haveyouevermethim?”
“Yes,onceortwice,whenhecameintoCoombeTracey.Hewasaveryretiringman,andhepreferredtodogoodbystealth.”
“Butifyousawhimsoseldomandwrotesoseldom,howdidheknowenoughaboutyouraffairstobeabletohelpyou,asyousaythathehasdone?”
Shemetmydifficultywiththeutmostreadiness.
“Therewereseveralgentlemenwhoknewmysadhistoryandunitedtohelpme.OnewasMr.Stapleton,aneighbourandintimatefriendofSirCharles’s.Hewasexceedinglykind,anditwasthroughhimthatSir