Chapter 13
Death on the Moor
"But what was that?"
A terrible scream was heard on the silent moor. My blood turned to ice at the sound.
"Oh my God," I said. "What was that?"
The scream was heard a second time - closer and louder.
"There, I think." I pointed into the darkness.
"No, there!"
The scream of terror came again - much louder and closer. Then there was a new sound. It was a deep, menacing, barking noise that rose and fell.
"The hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, come. Good Heavens, I hope it's not too late!"
I followed him as he ran quickly. Then we heard one last helpless cry and the heavy sound of something falling. We stopped and listened but all was silent on the moor.
Holmes was so upset he stamped his feet on the ground.
"He has won, Watson. I should have stopped him. And you shouldn't have left Baskerville's side. But if he's dead, we'll get the murderer." We ran towards the screams we had heard, up one hill and down the next.
It was so dark that we stumbled over rocks and into bushes. Then, from the top of a steep cliff, we heard a last low moan on the rocky slope below us. Moving closer we saw a dark figure on the ground.
A man lay dead, his head bent grotesquely under his body. Clearly, his neck was broken. Holmes lit a match and cried out. It was the body of sir Henry Baskerville! His clothes were the same as when we first met him in barker street.
"That terrible hound!"I said angrily, "Oh, I shall never forgive myself for leaving him alone!"
"I'm more to blame, Watson. I could have prevented this, but I was waiting another day or two to catch Stapleton. I never had such a disaster before. I didn't think sir Henry would risk his life alone on the moor after all my warnings"
"Why don't we arrest Stapleton now?"
"It isn't what we know, but what we can probe. He's very clever and very friend lying here?"
"We need help, Holmes. We can't carry him all the way to the Hall."
Holmes suddenly cried out and bent over the body. Then he danced and laughed and shook my hand. I was shocked.
"Good heavens, Holmes! Are you mad?"
"A beard! A beard! This man has a beard!"
"A beard?"
"Yes, this isn't sir Henry. It's the convict! My neighbor on the moor."
Quickly we turned the body over. In the light of the cold moon was the wild-looking face of Selden the criminal - the same face I had seen on the dark night we went out to chase him. I remembered now that sir Henry had given avay some old clothes to Barrymore. The servant had probably given them to selden to help him get away, I told Holmes this.
"Clearly, these clothes were the reason for his death," he said. "The hound had something of sir Henry's to smell - probably the boot stolen from him in the hotel - and followed the smell from these clothes. That's why he ran after Selden. My job now is to catch the man who frightened Sir Charles to death, and who is trying to kill sir Henry. But, look who's coming!"
We could see the red light of a cigar. A man came quickly towards us over the moor. He stopped and then came closer.
"Yes. it's him!" said Holmes, "Be very careful what you say to Stapleton, Watson, so you don't spoil my plan."
"Why, Dr. Watson, is that really you? I didn't expect to see you out here so late at night. But, dear me, what's this? Is somebody hurt? No, don't tell me it's our friend, Sir Henry!"
Stapleton hurried over to the dead man. He seemed surprised and the cigar fell from his hand.
"Who... who's this?" he asked.
"It's Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown jail."
There was a terrible look on Stapleton's face when he heard this. He looked sharply at both of us.
"Dear me! How shocking! How did he die?"
"He broke his neck by falling over those rocks. My friend and I were walking on the moor when we heard a cry."
"I heard the cry too. That's why I came here. I was concerned about sir Henry."
"But why?" I asked.
"Because I had asked him over to my house. I was surprised when he didn't come. I was worried when I heard the cries. By the way, did you hear anything else?"
Stapleton looked at us both.
"No," said Holmes. "Did you?"
"No."
"Why did you ask then?"
"Oh, you know the stories about a ghostly hound. The farmers say they hear it at night on the moor. I thought perhaps you heard something tonight."
"We heard nothing like that," I said.
"Why do you think this man died?" he asked.
"I think he got crazy after staying out on the moor for so long. He didn't know what he was doing. So he fell and broke his neck," I answered.
"That may be true," said Stapleton. He seemed pleased with my answer.
"What do you think, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
Holmes Bowed. "You are very clever to recognize me so quickly."
"we've been expecting you ever since Dr. Watson came to stay. You were in time to see tragedy.
"Yes, indeed. I shall take an unpleasant memory back to London with me tomorrow."
"Oh. you're returning tomorrow?
"Yes."
"I hope you've found out something about the strange things that have happened here."
"I can't always be successful, you know. A detective need facts, not just legends. I'm not happy about this case."
Holmes spoke in a frank, truthful way. Stapleton looked at him hard, then turned to me.
"I thought about carrying this poor man to my house, but I don't want to frighten my sister. Let's cover his face and leave him here till morning."
After we covered the man who had come to such a horrible end, Holmes and I set off for Baskerville Hall while Stapleton returned to Grimpen.
Death on the Moor
"But what was that?"
A terrible scream was heard on the silent moor. My blood turned to ice at the sound.
"Oh my God," I said. "What was that?"The scream was heard a second time - closer and louder.
"There, I think." I pointed into the darkness.
"No, there!"
The scream of terror came again - much louder and closer. Then there was a new sound. It was a deep, menacing, barking noise that rose and fell.
"The hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, come. Good Heavens, I hope it's not too late!"
I followed him as he ran quickly. Then we heard one last helpless cry and the heavy sound of something falling. We stopped and listened but all was silent on the moor.
Holmes was so upset he stamped his feet on the ground.
"He has won, Watson. I should have stopped him. And you shouldn't have left Baskerville's side. But if he's dead, we'll get the murderer." We ran towards the screams we had heard, up one hill and down the next.
It was so dark that we stumbled over rocks and into bushes. Then, from the top of a steep cliff, we heard a last low moan on the rocky slope below us. Moving closer we saw a dark figure on the ground.
A man lay dead, his head bent grotesquely under his body. Clearly, his neck was broken. Holmes lit a match and cried out. It was the body of sir Henry Baskerville! His clothes were the same as when we first met him in barker street.
"That terrible hound!"I said angrily, "Oh, I shall never forgive myself for leaving him alone!"
"I'm more to blame, Watson. I could have prevented this, but I was waiting another day or two to catch Stapleton. I never had such a disaster before. I didn't think sir Henry would risk his life alone on the moor after all my warnings"
"Why don't we arrest Stapleton now?"
"It isn't what we know, but what we can probe. He's very clever and very friend lying here?"
"We need help, Holmes. We can't carry him all the way to the Hall."
Holmes suddenly cried out and bent over the body. Then he danced and laughed and shook my hand. I was shocked.
"Good heavens, Holmes! Are you mad?"
"A beard! A beard! This man has a beard!"
"A beard?"
"Yes, this isn't sir Henry. It's the convict! My neighbor on the moor."
Quickly we turned the body over. In the light of the cold moon was the wild-looking face of Selden the criminal - the same face I had seen on the dark night we went out to chase him. I remembered now that sir Henry had given avay some old clothes to Barrymore. The servant had probably given them to selden to help him get away, I told Holmes this.
"Clearly, these clothes were the reason for his death," he said. "The hound had something of sir Henry's to smell - probably the boot stolen from him in the hotel - and followed the smell from these clothes. That's why he ran after Selden. My job now is to catch the man who frightened Sir Charles to death, and who is trying to kill sir Henry. But, look who's coming!"
We could see the red light of a cigar. A man came quickly towards us over the moor. He stopped and then came closer.
"Yes. it's him!" said Holmes, "Be very careful what you say to Stapleton, Watson, so you don't spoil my plan."
"Why, Dr. Watson, is that really you? I didn't expect to see you out here so late at night. But, dear me, what's this? Is somebody hurt? No, don't tell me it's our friend, Sir Henry!"
Stapleton hurried over to the dead man. He seemed surprised and the cigar fell from his hand.
"Who... who's this?" he asked.
"It's Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown jail."
There was a terrible look on Stapleton's face when he heard this. He looked sharply at both of us.
"Dear me! How shocking! How did he die?"
"He broke his neck by falling over those rocks. My friend and I were walking on the moor when we heard a cry."
"I heard the cry too. That's why I came here. I was concerned about sir Henry."
"But why?" I asked.
"Because I had asked him over to my house. I was surprised when he didn't come. I was worried when I heard the cries. By the way, did you hear anything else?"
Stapleton looked at us both.
"No," said Holmes. "Did you?"
"No."
"Why did you ask then?"
"Oh, you know the stories about a ghostly hound. The farmers say they hear it at night on the moor. I thought perhaps you heard something tonight."
"We heard nothing like that," I said.
"Why do you think this man died?" he asked.
"I think he got crazy after staying out on the moor for so long. He didn't know what he was doing. So he fell and broke his neck," I answered.
"That may be true," said Stapleton. He seemed pleased with my answer.
"What do you think, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
Holmes Bowed. "You are very clever to recognize me so quickly."
"we've been expecting you ever since Dr. Watson came to stay. You were in time to see tragedy.
"Yes, indeed. I shall take an unpleasant memory back to London with me tomorrow."
"Oh. you're returning tomorrow?
"Yes."
"I hope you've found out something about the strange things that have happened here."
"I can't always be successful, you know. A detective need facts, not just legends. I'm not happy about this case."
Holmes spoke in a frank, truthful way. Stapleton looked at him hard, then turned to me.
"I thought about carrying this poor man to my house, but I don't want to frighten my sister. Let's cover his face and leave him here till morning."
After we covered the man who had come to such a horrible end, Holmes and I set off for Baskerville Hall while Stapleton returned to Grimpen.
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