“I’ve been moping in the house all day since Watson went off in the morning,” said the baronet. “I guess I should have some credit, for I have kept my promise. If I hadn’t sworn not to go about alone I might have had a more lively evening, for I had a message from Stapleton asking me over there.”
“I have no doubt that you would have had a more lively evening,” said Holmes drily. “By the way, I don’t suppose you appreciate that we have been mourning over you as having broken your neck?”
Sir Henry opened his eyes. “How was that?”
“This poor wretch5 was dressed in your clothes. I fear your servant who gave them to him may get into trouble with the police.”
“That is unlikely. There was no mark on any of them, as far as I know.”
“That’s lucky for him—in fact, it’s lucky for all of you, since you are all on the wrong side of the law in this matter. I am not sure that as a conscientious6 detective my first duty is not to arrest the whole household. Watson’s reports are most incriminating documents.”
“But how about the case?” asked the baronet. “Have you made anything out of the tangle7? I don’t know that Watson and I are much the wiser since we came down.”
“I think that I shall be in a position to make the situation rather more clear to you before long. It has been an exceedingly difficult and most complicated business. There are several points upon which we still want light—but it is coming all the same.”
“We’ve had one experience, as Watson has no doubt told you. We heard the hound on the moor8, so I can swear that it is not all empty superstition9. I had something to do with dogs when I was out West, and I know one when I hear one. If you can muzzle10 that one and put him on a chain I’ll be ready to swear you are the greatest detective of all time.”
“I think I will muzzle him and chain him all right if you will give me your help.”
“Whatever you tell me to do I will do.”
“Very good; and I will ask you also to do it blindly, without always asking the reason.”
“Just as you like.”
“If you will do this I think the chances are that our little problem will soon be solved. I have no doubt—”
He stopped suddenly and stared fixedly12 up over my head into the air. The lamp beat upon his face, and so intent was it and so still that it might have been that of a clear-cut classical statue, a personification of alertness and expectation.
“What is it?” we both cried.
I could see as he looked down that he was repressing some internal emotion. His features were still composed, but his eyes shone with amused exultation13.
“Excuse the admiration14 of a connoisseur,” said he as he waved his hand towards the line of portraits which covered the opposite wall. “Watson won’t allow that I know anything of art but that is mere15 jealousy16 because our views upon the subject differ. Now, these are a really very fine series of portraits.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you say so,” said Sir Henry, glancing with some surprise at my friend. “I don’t pretend to know much about these things, and I’d be a better judge of a horse or a steer17 than of a picture. I didn’t know that you found time for such things.”
“I know what is good when I see it, and I see it now. That’s a Kneller, I’ll swear, that lady in the blue silk over yonder, and the stout18 gentleman with the wig19 ought to be a Reynolds. They are all family portraits, I presume?”
“Every one.”
“Do you know the names?”
“Barrymore has been coaching me in them, and I think I can say my lessons fairly well.”
“Who is the gentleman with the telescope?”
“That is Rear-Admiral Baskerville, who served under Rodney in the West Indies. The man with the blue coat and the roll of paper is Sir William Baskerville, who was Chairman of Committees of the House of Commons under Pitt.”
“Ah, you have a right to know about him. That is the cause of all the mischief21, the wicked Hugo, who started the Hound of the Baskervilles. We’re not likely to forget him.”
I gazed with interest and some surprise upon the portrait.
“Dear me!” said Holmes, “he seems a quiet, meek-mannered man enough, but I dare say that there was a lurking22 devil in his eyes. I had pictured him as a more robust23 and ruffianly person.”
“There’s no doubt about the authenticity24, for the name and the date, 1647, are on the back of the canvas.”
Holmes said little more, but the picture of the old roysterer seemed to have a fascination25 for him, and his eyes were continually fixed11 upon it during supper. It was not until later, when Sir Henry had gone to his room, that I was able to follow the trend of his thoughts. He led me back into the banqueting-hall, his bedroom candle in his hand, and he held it up against the time-stained portrait on the wall.
“Do you see anything there?”
I looked at the broad plumed26 hat, the curling love-locks, the white lace collar, and the straight, severe face which was framed between them. It was not a brutal27 countenance28, but it was prim29, hard, and stern, with a firm-set, thin-lipped mouth, and a coldly intolerant eye.
“Is it like anyone you know?”
“Just a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an instant!” He stood upon a chair, and, holding up the light in his left hand, he curved his right arm over the broad hat and round the long ringlets.
The face of Stapleton had sprung out of the canvas.
“Ha, you see it now. My eyes have been trained to examine faces and not their trimmings. It is the first quality of a criminal investigator32 that he should see through a disguise.”
“But this is marvellous. It might be his portrait.”
“Yes, it is an interesting instance of a throwback, which appears to be both physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits is enough to convert a man to the doctrine33 of reincarnation. The fellow is a Baskerville—that is evident.”
“With designs upon the succession.”
“Exactly. This chance of the picture has supplied us with one of our most obvious missing links. We have him, Watson, we have him, and I dare swear that before tomorrow night he will be fluttering in our net as helpless as one of his own butterflies. A pin, a cork34, and a card, and we add him to the Baker35 Street collection!” He burst into one of his rare fits of laughter as he turned away from the picture. I have not heard him laugh often, and it has always boded36 ill to somebody.
I was up betimes in the morning, but Holmes was afoot earlier still, for I saw him as I dressed, coming up the drive.
“Yes, we should have a full day today,” he remarked, and he rubbed his hands with the joy of action. “The nets are all in place, and the drag is about to begin. We’ll know before the day is out whether we have caught our big, lean-jawed pike, or whether he has got through the meshes37.”
“Have you been on the moor already?”
“I have sent a report from Grimpen to Princetown as to the death of Selden. I think I can promise that none of you will be troubled in the matter. And I have also communicated with my faithful Cartwright, who would certainly have pined away at the door of my hut, as a dog does at his master’s grave, if I had not set his mind at rest about my safety.”
“What is the next move?”
“To see Sir Henry. Ah, here he is!”
“Good-morning, Holmes,” said the baronet. “You look like a general who is planning a battle with his chief of the staff.”
“That is the exact situation. Watson was asking for orders.”
“And so do I.”
“Very good. You are engaged, as I understand, to dine with our friends the Stapletons tonight.”
“I hope that you will come also. They are very hospitable38 people, and I am sure that they would be very glad to see you.”
“I fear that Watson and I must go to London.”
“To London?”
The baronet’s face perceptibly lengthened40.
“I hoped that you were going to see me through this business. The Hall and the moor are not very pleasant places when one is alone.”
“My dear fellow, you must trust me implicitly42 and do exactly what I tell you. You can tell your friends that we should have been happy to have come with you, but that urgent business required us to be in town. We hope very soon to return to Devonshire. Will you remember to give them that message?”
“If you insist upon it.”
“There is no alternative, I assure you.”
I saw by the baronet’s clouded brow that he was deeply hurt by what he regarded as our desertion.
“When do you desire to go?” he asked coldly.
“Immediately after breakfast. We will drive in to Coombe Tracey, but Watson will leave his things as a pledge that he will come back to you. Watson, you will send a note to Stapleton to tell him that you regret that you cannot come.”
“I have a good mind to go to London with you,” said the baronet. “Why should I stay here alone?”
“Because it is your post of duty. Because you gave me your word that you would do as you were told, and I tell you to stay.”
“All right, then, I’ll stay.”
“One more direction! I wish you to drive to Merripit House. Send back your trap, however, and let them know that you intend to walk home.”
“To walk across the moor?”
“Yes.”
“But that is the very thing which you have so often cautioned me not to do.”
“This time you may do it with safety. If I had not every confidence in your nerve and courage I would not suggest it, but it is essential that you should do it.”
“Then I will do it.”
“And as you value your life do not go across the moor in any direction save along the straight path which leads from Merripit House to the Grimpen Road, and is your natural way home.”
“I will do just what you say.”
“Very good. I should be glad to get away as soon after breakfast as possible, so as to reach London in the afternoon.”
I was much astounded43 by this programme, though I remembered that Holmes had said to Stapleton on the night before that his visit would terminate next day. It had not crossed my mind however, that he would wish me to go with him, nor could I understand how we could both be absent at a moment which he himself declared to be critical. There was nothing for it, however, but implicit41 obedience44; so we bade good-bye to our rueful friend, and a couple of hours afterwards we were at the station of Coombe Tracey and had dispatched the trap upon its return journey. A small boy was waiting upon the platform.
“Any orders, sir?”
“You will take this train to town, Cartwright. The moment you arrive you will send a wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, in my name, to say that if he finds the pocketbook which I have dropped he is to send it by registered post to Baker Street.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And ask at the station office if there is a message for me.”
The boy returned with a telegram, which Holmes handed to me. It ran:
Wire received. Coming down with unsigned warrant. Arrive five-forty. Lestrade.
“That is in answer to mine of this morning. He is the best of the professionals, I think, and we may need his assistance. Now, Watson, I think that we cannot employ our time better than by calling upon your acquaintance, Mrs. Laura Lyons.”
His plan of campaign was beginning to be evident. He would use the baronet in order to convince the Stapletons that we were really gone, while we should actually return at the instant when we were likely to be needed. That telegram from London, if mentioned by Sir Henry to the Stapletons, must remove the last suspicions from their minds. Already I seemed to see our nets drawing closer around that lean-jawed pike.
Mrs. Laura Lyons was in her office, and Sherlock Holmes opened his interview with a frankness and directness which considerably45 amazed her.
“I am investigating the circumstances which attended the death of the late Sir Charles Baskerville,” said he. “My friend here, Dr. Watson, has informed me of what you have communicated, and also of what you have withheld46 in connection with that matter.”
“You have confessed that you asked Sir Charles to be at the gate at ten o’clock. We know that that was the place and hour of his death. You have withheld what the connection is between these events.”
“There is no connection.”
“In that case the coincidence must indeed be an extraordinary one. But I think that we shall succeed in establishing a connection, after all. I wish to be perfectly48 frank with you, Mrs. Lyons. We regard this case as one of murder, and the evidence may implicate49 not only your friend Mr. Stapleton but his wife as well.”
The lady sprang from her chair.
“His wife!” she cried.
“The fact is no longer a secret. The person who has passed for his sister is really his wife.”
Mrs. Lyons had resumed her seat. Her hands were grasping the arms of her chair, and I saw that the pink nails had turned white with the pressure of her grip.
“His wife!” she said again. “His wife! He is not a married man.”
“Prove it to me! Prove it to me! And if you can do so—!”
The fierce flash of her eyes said more than any words.
“I have come prepared to do so,” said Holmes, drawing several papers from his pocket. “Here is a photograph of the couple taken in York four years ago. It is indorsed ‘Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur,’ but you will have no difficulty in recognizing him, and her also, if you know her by sight. Here are three written descriptions by trustworthy witnesses of Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur, who at that time kept St. Oliver’s private school. Read them and see if you can doubt the identity of these people.”
“Mr. Holmes,” she said, “this man had offered me marriage on condition that I could get a divorce from my husband. He has lied to me, the villain52, in every conceivable way. Not one word of truth has he ever told me. And why—why? I imagined that all was for my own sake. But now I see that I was never anything but a tool in his hands. Why should I preserve faith with him who never kept any with me? Why should I try to shield him from the consequences of his own wicked acts? Ask me what you like, and there is nothing which I shall hold back. One thing I swear to you, and that is that when I wrote the letter I never dreamed of any harm to the old gentleman, who had been my kindest friend.”
“I entirely53 believe you, madam,” said Sherlock Holmes. “The recital54 of these events must be very painful to you, and perhaps it will make it easier if I tell you what occurred, and you can check me if I make any material mistake. The sending of this letter was suggested to you by Stapleton?”
“I presume that the reason he gave was that you would receive help from Sir Charles for the legal expenses connected with your divorce?”
“Exactly.”
“He told me that it would hurt his self-respect that any other man should find the money for such an object, and that though he was a poor man himself he would devote his last penny to removing the obstacles which divided us.”
“He appears to be a very consistent character. And then you heard nothing until you read the reports of the death in the paper?”
“No.”
“And he made you swear to say nothing about your appointment with Sir Charles?”
“He did. He said that the death was a very mysterious one, and that I should certainly be suspected if the facts came out. He frightened me into remaining silent.”
“Quite so. But you had your suspicions?”
She hesitated and looked down.
“I knew him,” she said. “But if he had kept faith with me I should always have done so with him.”
“I think that on the whole you have had a fortunate escape,” said Sherlock Holmes. “You have had him in your power and he knew it, and yet you are alive. You have been walking for some months very near to the edge of a precipice57. We must wish you good-morning now, Mrs. Lyons, and it is probable that you will very shortly hear from us again.”
“Our case becomes rounded off, and difficulty after difficulty thins away in front of us,” said Holmes as we stood waiting for the arrival of the express from town. “I shall soon be in the position of being able to put into a single connected narrative58 one of the most singular and sensational59 crimes of modern times. Students of criminology will remember the analogous60 incidents in Godno, in Little Russia, in the year ’66, and of course there are the Anderson murders in North Carolina, but this case possesses some features which are entirely its own. Even now we have no clear case against this very wily man. But I shall be very much surprised if it is not clear enough before we go to bed this night.”
The London express came roaring into the station, and a small, wiry bulldog of a man had sprung from a first-class carriage. We all three shook hands, and I saw at once from the reverential way in which Lestrade gazed at my companion that he had learned a good deal since the days when they had first worked together. I could well remember the scorn which the theories of the reasoner used then to excite in the practical man.
“Anything good?” he asked.
“The biggest thing for years,” said Holmes. “We have two hours before we need think of starting. I think we might employ it in getting some dinner and then, Lestrade, we will take the London fog out of your throat by giving you a breath of the pure night air of Dartmoor. Never been there? Ah, well, I don’t suppose you will forget your first visit.”
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1
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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authenticity
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| n.真实性 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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investigator
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| n.研究者，调查者，审查者 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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boded
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| v.预示，预告，预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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withheld
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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49
implicate
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| vt.使牵连其中，涉嫌 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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51
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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52
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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55
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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56
dissuaded
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| 劝（某人）勿做某事，劝阻( dissuade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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58
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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