Predatory map of ominous birds

London at the end of the nineteenth century was not a good place to live, the air was always filled with smelly fog, the weather was often rainy, and the sun was rare, so the local rich people liked to spend their time in country houses far away from London. on vacation.Bo Fu doesn't care about this, anyway, as a big monster, he will not be knocked down by air pollution at all - this is far better than the air pollution in Beijing in the future... What he is interested in is the dark world in London, "Speaking of which, there are really not many Yes, but there are still some small things in the countryside of England, Scotland and other places. In terms of density alone, it is higher than many places in the European continent... But goblins and flower fairies are considered legendary creatures, which is too much It's a bit tragic... just 100 years ago this kind of thing was not a rare supernatural creature at all."

Not to mention Bofu's exclamation, the Times spread out in front of him contained a lot of reports on various superstition rumors.It's just that basically all of them are rumors and ridiculous fabrications, but if a newspaper does not have such things, its sales will be worrying, and its advertisements will not sell. Set up a page in this regard——"This ancient and modern newspaper is exactly the same...People all over the world basically have the same superstition and chat, hahahaha."

But having said that, in fact, the real darkness is hidden in these reports-whether it is the news page or the rumor page... The dark side of the world is hidden between the bad taste and all kinds of murder reports.Bo Fu saw one now, and it was directly related to him - on the page dedicated to various homicide cases and "pornographic" cases...

"The Scotch-headed knight reappears! Local police call it nonsense! 'We can catch the murderer!'; 'The murderer is a tramp!'" Below the appalling headline is a string of small print—even though it's written in the same font. Small and dark.It's not as good as the big bold words above "Murder! Sir xx was secretly murdered in the "whore" room! When he died, he was lying naked with the "whore"!"......

Bo Fu first read the above report with relish - the "erotic" wording and the vagueness of the metaphor made people overwhelmed by the boring "sao" of the British guy!Then he looked at the report below.He had already figured it out after reading the first line - the place where the case happened happened to be within the scope of the place where he slaughtered a manor and created the first knight.Then he began to read the report carefully, and after removing all kinds of appalling and exaggerated adjectives, he actually only said one sentence—a headless corpse was found in the highlands two mornings ago, and the corpse was identified as a local The farmer couldn't find his head. The police believed that a homeless man murdered the poor man because of the money, but they didn't know whether he got it or not.How much money was stolen is unclear... Bofu understood a lot of things with a slight movement of his mind. The unlucky farmer had five pennies on him, and he put them in his trouser pocket openly.

Then he continued to read, and in a series of nonsense, he said that the locals believed that the legendary head knight who appeared somewhere in the local area chopped off his head and took him away. The police refuted this as nonsense , and declared that they had locked the suspect.For these, newspaper reports focused on the legendary head knight.As for the so-called suspect by the police, they simply described the incident in a few words... "It's already entered the active stage... Some people really don't know what to do, and they even tried to use black witchcraft to awaken the head knight I made." Bo Fu didn't use his divine sense to understand all the facts in detail - because that would be too boring, "It's fun to investigate like a mortal, hahaha."

"Watson! I've found a blind spot! I have to say the local police are far worse than Lestrade at Scotland Yard! They're blind to the obvious fact that the so-called tramp is just one of their unlucky offspring." !” A tall, thin man with a pipe in his hand said to another man who was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper with an obvious mocking tone.

And at the same time.Bo Fu has also turned the Times to a page dedicated to publishing various announcements, obituaries, and messages. He looked at one of the obituaries "Sir Charles Baskerville passed away", and Bo Fu looked at the text below "Due to a heart attack, The Honorable Sir Charles Baskerville died on the fourteenth day of May, [-]..."

"Has the cute puppy finally found his prey again... What a joy to congratulate." Bo Fu muttered, picked up the rum glass beside the table and drank it down.Then Bo Fu put down the newspaper casually.Picking up another newspaper, the newspaper wrote an extremely ambiguous and obscene headline in exaggerated letters. "There are already tabloids these days! If it weren't for the fact that the British guys still have a minimum limit and their photography skills are not enough to pass the test, I estimate that the third version of the girl will appear 80 years in advance... However, I didn't expect I miscalculated! There is already such a shameless thing..." A piece of cardboard slipped from the newspaper, and Bo Fu's keen eyes had already seen that it was a picture of a woman with her butt up and being spanked, The woman in the photo is only wearing a petticoat, no lantern panties, and a big white buttock in the photo... Bo Fu turned over the newspaper, and then glanced at the headline, "It really is crudely made, full of nonsense lace Tabloids, relying on such things in newspapers to win the market... But why do I just like this tone?" [

At this time, a visitor also came to No. 221b Baker Street. It was a tall and thin man with a long nose like a bird's beak, protruding between a pair of sharp gray eyes. Very close together, they glowed brightly behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.He was dressed in the usual clothes of his party, but rather slovenly, for his coat was soiled and his trousers frayed.Although he was still young, his long back was already bent, and he stuck his head forward when he walked, but he was quite a gentle young man. "Doctor James Mortimer, what kind of questions would you like to ask Sherlock Holmes, the crime expert?" One with a hooked nose.The slender middle-aged man asked with a pipe in his mouth.His friend, Dr. Watson, stood with his arms thrown over the fireplace and looked towards the Dr. Mortimer.

Dr. Mortimer produced a paper.An old document, looking at Holmes with "Can I have a look?" "Yes, a document from the early eighteenth century..." said Holmes, and then took the document and spread it out, "Pay attention to Watson, and note the change of letters in it, which is a feature that proves the age of this document. "

Among the documents are letters from a terrified country estate owner to his sons, which describe a story of a curse on their family.A story of a poor wife, a fierce husband and a faithful little terrier...  

"An interesting fairy tale, isn't it?" said Holmes casually after reading the document. "But you are not here just to let me read this story, are you? By the way, Watson! Please put today's Times Here! I remember seeing the name Baskerville somewhere in there."

Watson brought the Times, while Dr. Mortimer showed a surprised face and fumbled in his pocket.But before he could take out the things in his pocket, Holmes quickly turned to what he wanted to see. "Aha! The obituary! The obituary about Sir Charles Baskerville, heart attack? Was it a month ago?" Dr. Mortimer had already taken out the folded newspaper in his pocket at this time, which was a Devon County Journal Newspaper, a local tabloid.He opened the folded side to Holmes, and on it was also an obituary.As is the local newspaper.So the obituary was published almost two weeks earlier than the Times, and there are more commemorative strokes about the great achievements of the characters than the Times.Holmes casually flipped through the newspaper, "It's basically useless... After removing those compliments, we can only see that this person made a fortune abroad and then returned to his hometown. After more than ten years, due to a night He died of a heart attack on a walk. But I think Dr. Mortimer must have something else to say to us."

On the side of London when Dr. Mortimer began to speak.Bo Fu has already called a carriage and ran towards London Railway Station.

On the second floor of 221b Baker Street, Holmes and Watson were listening carefully to Dr. Mortimer's words.

"Then," said Dr. Mortimer, with growing emotion, "I shall tell what I have not told anyone, even the coroner. For a man of science The man who works is most afraid of appearing in public as if he believes in a "superstition" that is circulated. My other motive, as the newspapers say, is already quite serious if anything worsens it. dreadful reputation, then Baskerville Manor would really never be dared to live in. For these two reasons, I thought it was right not to tell all I knew, because it would do no good. , but as far as you are concerned, I have no reason why I should not be open and honest and talk through it.

"The inhabitants of the moor lived at great distances from each other, and those who lived nearer to each other formed close ties. I therefore had many opportunities to meet Sir Charles Baskerville. Except for Mr. Frankland of Ryford Park Apart from Mr. Stapleton, the biologist, there is no educated man for miles around."

"In the last few months I have seen more and more clearly that Sir Charles's nervous system has been strained to the extreme. He believes in the legend that although he often walks in his house, at night He refused to go out on the moor at all. Mr. Holmes, it seems so implausible to you, but he was convinced that his family was doomed. He asked me more than once if I was visiting at night. Seen something strange on the way, or heard a hound howl. He asked me the latter question many times, and always in a voice trembling with alarm."

"I remember very well that I drove to his house one evening, about three weeks before the fatal incident. He happened to be at the hall door. I had gotten out of my little buggy. When I got down and stood in front of him, I suddenly saw his eyes staring at my back with an expression of extreme terror in his eyes. I turned around suddenly, and just had time to see a black thing like a big calf flying fast. He was so frightened and frightened that I was obliged to go and look around where the animal had been. It had gone. But the incident seemed to have created a very bad feeling in his mind. Influence. I stayed with him one night, and it was then that, in order to explain the emotions he displayed, he entrusted me with the preservation of the account which I showed you when I first arrived. That is why I mention this A small "interlude" because it may have had some "importance" in the tragedy that followed, but at the time, I really thought it was just a trivial incident, and his panic was unfounded."

"On my advice, Sir Childs intends to go to London. I know that his heart has been affected, and his constant anxiety, however fanciful the cause, has evidently been seriously affected. His health. I think a few months of city life can turn him into a new man. Our mutual friend Mr. Stapleton is very concerned about his health, and he agrees with me. But it is terrible The disaster happened at the last moment before leaving."

"On the night of Sir Charles' sudden death, I was at Baskerville Hall within an hour of the accident. I verified all the facts mentioned at the inquest. I watched his footprints, looked at the I noticed a change in the shape of the tracks from the point on the moor where he seemed to have waited for someone. I found no other tracks. At last I examined the body carefully again, and when I reached No one had touched it before. Sir Charles was sprawled on the ground with his arms outstretched, his fingers 'dug' in the earth; The scar. I saw it—not far away, not only clear but also fresh."

"Footprints?"

"Footprints."[

"Is it a man's or a woman's?"

Mortimer looked at Holmes and Watson with a fearful look, and when he answered, his voice was almost whispering: "Mr. Holmes, it is the paw print of a huge hunting dog!" (To be continued. If If you like this work, you are welcome to come to the starting point to vote, monthly pass, your support is my biggest motivation. For mobile phone users, please go to m to read.)

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