The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 132 The Hound of the Baskervilles (13)
"In the old houses on the hillside are the small stone houses where the ancients lived."

"But what does he eat?"

"Seldan found a boy in his service, bringing him what he needed. I'm sure the boy went to Coombe Tracy to get him what he needed."

"Excellent, Barrymore. Let's discuss this issue in detail some other day." After the butler left, I looked out through the blurred window pane at the drifting clouds and the height of the treetops swept by the wind. Different outlines.Such nights are sinister enough indoors, and one can only imagine the evils endured in a stone house on the moor.What kind of deep hatred can make a person willing to lurk in such a bad environment?What kind of purpose is it that makes him work so tirelessly?It seemed that the center of my troubles was in the house on the moor.I swear, tomorrow I will try my best to find out the core of the mystery.

[-]. The Man on the Rock
Through excerpts from the diary, the events of October [-] have already been mentioned.From then on, these strange incidents developed rapidly, and they were about to reach a terrible conclusion.The events of the next few days are so indelible in my memory that I can tell them without reference to the notes made at the time.I'll start on day two with two extremely important facts in hand.One of those two facts is that Mrs. Laura Lyons of Combe Tracey had written to Sir Charles Baskerville, and that he died at the time and place agreed between them; One is the man hiding in the swamp hiding in the stone house on the side of the mountain.After grasping these two circumstances, if I still can't find something, then I am either imbecile or lack of courage.

I had no opportunity of telling the baronet what I had learned about Mrs Lyons yesterday evening, because Dr. Mortimer played cards with him late.I told him that at breakfast this morning, and asked him if he would accompany me to Combe Tracey.At first he was eager to try, but after careful consideration, we all felt that it would be better for me to go alone.Because the more serious the visit is, the less information can be learned.So I left Sir Henry at home, and set off in a state of apprehension, on a new quest.

At Combe Tracey I told Perkins to put the horses in order, and then went to inquire about the lady I was going to visit.Her lodgings were easy to find, moderately situated and well furnished.A maid ushered me in very casually, and as I entered the living room, a woman seated at a Remington typewriter stood up quickly and greeted me with a broad smile.But when she saw that I was a stranger, she put away her smile, sat down again, and asked me the purpose of my visit.

The first impression Mrs. Lyons gave was one of beauty.Her eyes and hair were dark brown, and although there were many freckles on her cheeks, there was just a touch of rosiness, like a pleasant pink in the heart of a yellowish rose.I repeat, this is just my first impression.But then she discovered her flaws, some imperceptible flaws on her face, her expression was a little rough, her eyes seemed a little stiff, and her lips were a little loose, all of which spoiled her beauty.Of course, this was an afterthought when I noticed she was a beautiful woman and listened to her ask me the purpose of my visit.Only then did I really realize how tricky my task was.

"It is a great honor," I said, "to know your father."

Such a self-introduction seemed silly, as could be seen from the woman's reaction.

"There is nothing between my father and I," she said, "I owe him nothing, and his friends are not mine. Were it not for the late Sir Charles Baskerville and other good people If not, I might have starved to death long ago, and my father doesn't care about my life."

"It is about the late Sir Charles Baskerville that I have come here."

The lady's face turned pale from fright, and her freckles became more obvious.

"What can I tell you about him?" she asked.Her fingers tapped nervously on the punctuation keys on the typewriter.

"You know him, don't you?"

"I have already said that I am grateful for his kindness to me. I can still live on my own now because he helped me in my most difficult time."

"Did you pass the letter?"

The lady looked up quickly and glared at me.

"Why do you ask these questions?" she asked sharply.

"To avoid the spread of scandal. It's better for me to ask here than to let things spread and get out of hand."

She was silent, her face still pale.At last she looked up, with an air of desperate defiance.

"Well, I'll answer," she said, "what's your question?"

"Have you written with Sir Charles?"

"I did write to him once or twice to thank him for his help and generosity."

"Do you remember the date the letter was sent?"

"Can not remember."

"Have you met him?"

"Yes, we met once or twice when he came to Combe Tracey. He never likes to show off when he does good things, and prefers to do them in secret."

"However, you seldom meet and correspond, so how can he know so much about you and help you so generously?"

She answered what I thought was a difficult question without hesitation.

"Several gentlemen who knew of my misfortune conspired to help me. One was Mr. Stapleton, a good-natured neighbor and confidant of Sir Childs, through whom he came to know me. something."

I know that Sir Charles Baskerville has on several occasions asked Stapleton to take charge of his dole, so she must be telling the truth.

"Did you write to Sir Childs asking him to see you?" I went on.

Mrs. Lyons blushed again, and said, "That's not a very polite question, sir."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I have to ask."

"Then I'll answer. I'm sure I haven't written it."

"Not on the day Sir Childs died?"

The redness on her face faded away immediately, and what was presented in front of me was a dead face.Her chapped lips could no longer say "no".It's not so much that I heard it as that I saw it.

"Your memory must have deceived you," said I, "and I can even recite a passage from your letter which reads: 'You are a gentleman, please do burn this letter, And go to the gate at ten o'clock.'"

At the time, I thought she was going to pass out, but she did her best to keep herself calm.

"Is there really no gentleman in the world?!" Her breathing became rapid.

"You have wronged Sir Childs. He did burn the letter, but sometimes the letter is recognizable. Do you now admit that you wrote it?"

"Yes, I did," she exclaimed, pouring out all that was on her mind, "I did. Why should I deny it? I have no reason to be ashamed of it." , I hope he can help me, and I believe that if I can meet him in person, I will get his assistance, so I ask him to meet me."

"Why did you make an appointment at such a time?"

"Because I just found out that he was going to London the next day, and probably for months. I had other reasons for not being there sooner."

"But why meet in the garden instead of visiting in the house?"

"Do you think a woman could go to a bachelor's house by herself at that time?"

"Well, what happened when you got there?"

"I didn't go."

"Mrs. Lyons!"

"I didn't go, and I can swear to you on everything that is most sacred to me. I didn't go. One thing kept me from going."

"What's the matter?"

"It's a personal matter that I can't talk about."

"You admit, then, that you had agreed to meet Sir Charles at the exact time and place where he died, but you deny that you kept your appointment."

"This is a fact."

I questioned her again and again, but nothing came out.

"Mrs. Lyons," said I at last, rising from my long and fruitless visit, "your refusal to tell all you know is in great danger of exposing you to serious responsibilities, And put you in a very dangerous situation. If I had to call the police for assistance, you would know how suspicious you are. If you are innocent, why deny in the first place that you wrote on that day For Sir Charles?"

"Because I'm afraid to draw some incorrect conclusions from that matter, and then I might be involved in a scandal."

"Then why are you so eager to ask Sir Charles to burn your letter?"

"If you've read that letter, you should know the answer."

"I didn't say I had read the whole letter."

"You recited part of it."

"I only quoted in the postscript. As I said, the letter had been burned and not all of it was legible. I would also like to ask you why you were so eager to ask Sir Do you want to destroy this letter you received?"

"Because it's a purely personal matter."

"I'm afraid the more important reason is that you want to avoid public investigation?"

"Then I'll tell you, if you've ever heard my sad story, you'll know that I married hastily and regretted it later."

"I heard."

"I was constantly being persecuted by my husband, who I hated so much. The law was on his side, and every day I worried that he would force me to live with me. I heard that if I could pay a certain amount of money, it might be possible to regain my freedom, so I am writing this letter to Sir Childs. This is all I am looking for—peace of mind, happiness, self-respect—it is everything. I know Sir Childs is generous, and I think that if he Hearing this from my own mouth will surely help me."

"Then why didn't you go again?"

"Because at that point, I got funding from elsewhere."

"Then why did you not write to Sir Childs to explain the matter?"

"If I hadn't read the news of his death in the papers next morning, I would have written it to him."

The woman's account was consistent, and I asked all the questions I could and couldn't find a flaw.I can only look into whether, at or near the time of the tragedy, she went through the legal process to file for divorce from her husband.

It seemed that, if she had been to Baskerville Hall, she would not have dared to say that she had not.For she had to go there by carriage, so that she would be back at Coombe Tracy early next morning, and such a journey could not be concealed.So she may be telling the truth, or at least part of it.I came back dejected, hit a wall again, every way I tried to get through it to reach my destination was blocked.But as soon as I thought of the lady's face and expression, I felt that she still had something to hide from me.Why was her face suddenly so pale?Why does she only admit it when she has to?Why did she keep silent during the tragedy?Of course, the explanations for these problems are not as simple as she explained to me.At present, I can't make a breakthrough in this direction, so I have to go to the stone house in the moor to search for another clue.

This clue is also extremely slim, I thought about it on the way back.I saw relics of ancient people's life on the rolling hills.Barrymore said only that the man lived in one of these abandoned cottages, which were scattered by the hundreds all over the moor.Fortunately, I have seen that man standing on the top of Heiyan Hill, so I can use this as a clue first, and use the place where I saw him as the center of the search.From there I should start looking at every cottage in the moor until I found it.If the man is in the room, I'll make him explain who he is and why he has followed us so long, and if necessary I will use my pistol to force him to speak.In the Regent Street crowd he might escape from us, but in this desolate moor he would be at a loss.If I find that little room and that person is not there, no matter how long it takes, I will wait there for him to come back.In London Holmes let him slip, and it would be a great victory for me if I could track him down after my master's failure.

Luck was not always on my side in the investigation of this case, but now I had my luck, and it was none other than Mr. Frankland.He had a grizzled beard and a ruddy complexion, and he was standing at the gate of his garden, which opened squarely to the avenue I was about to walk.

"Well, Dr. Watson," he cried cheerfully, "you must rest your horse. Come in and congratulate me with a glass of wine."

I really don't like him very much after knowing how he treats his daughter.It was a good opportunity, at a time when I was anxious to send Perkins and the carriage home.I got out of the car and wrote Sir Henry a note that I was going for a walk back around suppertime.Then followed Mr. Frankland into his dining room.
"It's a fine day for me, sir, and one of the great days of my life," he cried, giggling incessantly. "I've closed two cases. I must Teach the people here that the law is the law. There is a man here who is not afraid of a lawsuit. I have verified that there is a road right through the center of old Middleton's garden, sir, from his front door Less than a hundred yards. What do you think? We really need to teach these big people a lesson about not trampling on the rights of ordinary people, you bastards! Woods. These lawless people seem to think that property rights do not exist at all, and they can do whatever they want, throwing empty paper bottles everywhere. I have won both cases, Dr. Watson. From Sir John Moran because in his own birds and animals I haven't been as proud as I am today since I was accused of shooting a gun in a livestock farm."

"How on earth did you accuse him?"

"Look at the record, sir. Worth seeing--Frankland v. Morland. High Court. It cost me two hundred pounds, but I won it."

"What benefit did you get?"

"Nothing, sir, and nothing. I am proud of doing these things, without any regard for personal gain. I am driven by a sense of social duty. I am sure, for instance, that V. The Enworthys could have burned me like a straw man tonight, and the last time they did that I called the police and told them they should put a stop to this vile practice. The county police are useless, sir , they didn't give me the protection I deserved. Frankland's lawsuit against the Queen's government will soon attract the attention of the society. I told them that they would regret it one day when they treated me like that. My words are now true. Come true."

"What's going on?" I asked.

The old man put on a smug expression.

"There's one thing they're dying to know, and I could have told them, but, anyway, I'm not going to do the rascals a favor."

I was trying to find an excuse to get away from listening to his nonsense, but now I want to know more.I'm well aware of this old bastard's weird temper. As long as you show even the slightest interest, he'll get suspicious and stop talking.

"It must be the poaching case?" I said in a tone of pretended indifference.

"Ah, man, it's more important than that! How's the prisoner in the moor?"

I was taken aback. "Do you think you know where he is?" I said.

"Although I don't know if he's still there, I was able to help the police catch him. It never occurred to you that the way to catch this man is to find out where he got his food, and then Any clues to find him?"

His words are so close to the truth that it already makes me uneasy. "Of course," I said, "but how are you sure he's in the moor?"

"I know, because I have seen the person who brought him food with my own eyes."

I couldn't help worrying about Barrymore.It was a horrible thing to be picked up by such a troublesome, meddling old man.But what he said next made me feel relieved again.

"It must have surprised you to hear that a child brought him his food. I saw him every day through that telescope on the roof, and walked the same road at the same time every day. Where else would he go but to the criminal?"

What luck!I repressed all signs of interest in the matter.a child!Barrymore once said that the one we don't know was sent by a child.What Frankland found was his leads, not the fugitive's.If I could learn from there what he knew, it would save me the trouble of tracking down.Yet now I have to be skeptical and indifferent about it.

"I think it may be that the son of a shepherd in the moor is bringing food to his father."

A slight disapproval can irritate the old guy.He stared at me fiercely, his gray beard bristling like an angry cat.

"Really, sir!" he said, pointing out into the vast moor, "do you see that black rocky yonder? Ah, do you see that low hill covered with thorns in the distance? That is The rockiest spot in all the moor. Would any shepherd graze there? Sir! How absurd and obstinate your ideas are."

(End of this chapter)