Chapter 14. The Hound of the Baskervilles

OneofSherlockHolmes’sdefects—if,indeed,onemaycallitadefect—wasthathewasexceedinglyloathtocommunicatehisfullplanstoanyotherpersonuntiltheinstantoftheirfulfilment.Partlyitcamenodoubtfromhisownmasterfulnature,whichlovedtodominateandsurprisethosewhowerearoundhim.Partlyalsofromhisprofessionalcaution,whichurgedhimnevertotakeanychances.Theresult,however,wasverytryingforthosewhowereactingashisagentsandassistants.Ihadoftensufferedunderit,butnevermoresothanduringthatlongdriveinthedarkness.Thegreatordealwasinfrontofusatlastwewereabouttomakeourfinaleffort,andyetHolmeshadsaidnothing,andIcouldonlysurmisewhathiscourseofactionwouldbe.Mynervesthrilledwithanticipationwhenatlastthecoldwinduponourfacesandthedark,voidspacesoneithersideofthenarrowroadtoldmethatwewerebackuponthemooronceagain.Everystrideofthehorsesandeveryturnofthewheelswastakingusnearertooursupremeadventure. Ourconversationwashamperedbythepresenceofthedriverofthehiredwagonette,sothatwewereforcedtotalkoftrivialmatterswhenournervesweretensewithemotionandanticipation.Itwasarelieftome,afterthatunnaturalrestraint,whenweatlastpassedFrankland’shouseandknewthatweweredrawingneartotheHallandtothesceneofaction.Wedidnotdriveuptothedoorbutgotdownnearthegateoftheavenue.ThewagonettewaspaidoffandorderedtoreturntoCoombeTraceyforthwith,whilewestartedtowalktoMerripitHouse. “Areyouarmed,Lestrade?” Thelittledetectivesmiled.“AslongasIhavemytrousersIhaveahip-pocket,andaslongasIhavemyhip-pocketIhavesomethinginit.” “Good!MyfriendandIarealsoreadyforemergencies.” “You’remightycloseaboutthisaffair,Mr.Holmes.What’sthegamenow?” “Awaitinggame.” “Myword,itdoesnotseemaverycheerfulplace,”saidthedetectivewithashiver,glancingroundhimatthegloomyslopesofthehillandatthehugelakeoffogwhichlayovertheGrimpenMire.“Iseethelightsofahouseaheadofus.” “ThatisMerripitHouseandtheendofourjourney.Imustrequestyoutowalkontiptoeandnottotalkaboveawhisper.” Wemovedcautiouslyalongthetrackasifwewereboundforthehouse,butHolmeshalteduswhenwewereabouttwohundredyardsfromit. “Thiswilldo,”saidhe.“Theserocksupontherightmakeanadmirablescreen.” “Wearetowaithere?” “Yes,weshallmakeourlittleambushhere.Getintothishollow,Lestrade.Youhavebeeninsidethehouse,haveyounot,Watson?Canyoutellthepositionoftherooms?Whatarethoselatticedwindowsatthisend?” “Ithinktheyarethekitchenwindows.” “Andtheonebeyond,whichshinessobrightly?” “Thatiscertainlythedining-room.” “Theblindsareup.Youknowthelieofthelandbest.Creepforwardquietlyandseewhattheyaredoing—butforheaven’ssakedon’tletthemknowthattheyarewatched!” Itiptoeddownthepathandstoopedbehindthelowwallwhichsurroundedthestuntedorchard.CreepinginitsshadowIreachedapointwhenceIcouldlookstraightthroughtheuncurtainedwindow. Therewereonlytwomenintheroom,SirHenryandStapleton.Theysatwiththeirprofilestowardsmeoneithersideoftheroundtable.Bothofthemweresmokingcigars,andcoffeeandwinewereinfrontofthem.Stapletonwastalkingwithanimation,butthebaronetlookedpaleanddistrait.Perhapsthethoughtofthatlonelywalkacrosstheill-omenedmoorwasweighingheavilyuponhismind. AsIwatchedthemStapletonroseandlefttheroom,whileSirHenryfilledhisglassagainandleanedbackinhischair,puffingathiscigar.Iheardthecreakofadoorandthecrispsoundofbootsupongravel.ThestepspassedalongthepathontheothersideofthewallunderwhichIcrouched.Lookingover,Isawthenaturalistpauseatthedoorofanout-houseinthecorneroftheorchard.Akeyturnedinalock,andashepassedintherewasacuriousscufflingnoisefromwithin.Hewasonlyaminuteorsoinside,andthenIheardthekeyturnoncemoreandhepassedmeandreenteredthehouse.Isawhimrejoinhisguest,andIcreptquietlybacktowheremycompanionswerewaitingtotellthemwhatIhadseen. “Yousay,Watson,thatt