“Only one more question, Dr. Mortimer. You say that before SirCharles Baskerville’s death several people saw this apparition uponthe moor?”
“Three people did.”
“Did any see it after?”
“I have not heard of any.”
“Thank you. Good morning.”
Holmes returned to his seat with that quiet look of inwardsatisfaction which meant that he had a congenial task before him.
“Going out, Watson?”
“Unless I can help you.”
“No, my dear fellow, it is at the hour of action that I turn toyou for aid. But this is splendid, really unique from some pointsof view. When you pass Bradley’s, would you ask him to send up apound of the strongest shag tobacco? Thank you. It would be aswell if you could make it convenient not to return before evening.
Then I should be very glad to compare impressions as to thismost interesting problem which has been submitted to us thismorning.”
I knew that seclusion and solitude were very necessary for myfriend in those hours of intense mental concentration duringwhich he weighed every particle of evidence, constructedalternative theories, balanced one against the other, and made uphis mind as to which points were essential and which immaterial.
I therefore spent the day at my club and did not return to BakerStreet until evening. It was nearly nine o’clock when I foundmyself in the sitting-room once more.
My first impression as I opened the door was that a fire hadbroken out, for the room was so filled with smoke that the light ofthe lamp upon the table was blurred by it. As I entered, however,my fears were set at rest, for it was the acrid fumes of strongcoarse tobacco which took me by the throat and set me coughing.
Through the haze I had a vague vision of Holmes in his dressinggowncoiled up in an armchair with his black clay pipe between hislips. Several rolls of paper lay around him.
“Caught cold, Watson?” said he.
“No, it’s this poisonous atmosphere.”
“I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you mention it.”
“Thick! It is intolerable.”
“Open the window, then! You have been at your club all day, Iperceive.”
“My dear Holmes!”
“Am I right?”
“Certainly, but how—?”
He laughed at my bewildered expression.
“There is a delightful freshness about you, Watson, which makesit a pleasure to exercise any small powers which I possess at yourexpense. A gentleman goes forth on a showery and miry day. Hereturns immaculate in the evening with the gloss still on his hatand his boots. He has been a fixture therefore all day. He is not aman with intimate friends. Where, then, could he have been? Is itnot obvious?”
“Well, it is rather obvious.”
“The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chanceever observes. Where do you think that I have been?”
“A fixture also.”
“On the contrary, I have been to Devonshire.”
“In spirit?”
“Exactly. My body has remained in this armchair and has, Iregret to observe, consumed in my absence two large pots ofcoffee and an incredible amount of tobacco. After you left I sentdown to Stamford’s for the Ordnance map of this portion of themoor, and my spirit has hovered over it all day. I flatter myself thatI could find my way about.”
“A large-scale map, I presume?”
“Very large.” He unrolled one section and held it over his knee.
“Here you have the particular district which concerns us. That isBaskerville Hall in the middle.”
“With a wood round it?”
“Exactly. I fancy the yew alley, though not marked underthat name, must stretch along this line, with the moor, as youperceive, upon the right of it. This small clump of buildings hereis the hamlet of Grimpen, where our friend Dr. Mortimer has hisheadquarters. Within a radius of five miles there are, as you see,only a very few scattered dwellings. Here is Lafter Hall, which wasmentioned in the narrative. There is a house indicated here whichmay be the residence of the naturalist—Stapleton, if I rememberright, was his name. Here are two moorland farmhouses, HighTor and Foulmire. Then fourteen miles away the great convictprison of Princetown. Between and around these scattered pointsextends the desolate, lifeless moor. This, then, is the stage uponwhich tragedy has been played, and upon which we may help toplay it again.”
“It must be a wild place.”
“Yes, the setting is a worthy one. If the devil did desire to have ahand in the affairs of men——”
“Then you are yourself inclining to the supernatural explanation.”
“The devil’s agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not?
There are two questions waiting for us at the outset. The oneis whether any crime has been committed at all; the second is,what is the crime and how was it committed? Of course, if DrMortimer’s surmise should be correct, and we are dealing withforces outside the ordinary laws of Nature, there is an end of ourinvestigation. But we are bound to exhaust all other hypothesesbefore falling back upon this one. I think we’ll shut that windowagain, if you don’t mind. It is a singular thing, but I find that aconcentrated atmosphere helps a concentration of thought. I havenot pushed it to the length of getting into a box to think, but thatis the logical outcome of my convictions. Have you turned thecase over in your mind?”
“Yes, I have thought a good deal of it in the course of the day.”
“What do you make of it?”
“It is very bewildering.”
“It has certainly a character of its own. There are points ofdistinction about it. That change in the footprints, for example.
What do you make of that?”
“Mortimer said that the man had walked on tiptoe down thatportion of the alley.”
“He only repeated what some fool had said at the inquest. Whyshould a man walk on tiptoe down the alley?”
“What then?”
“He was running, Watson—running desperately, running for hislife, running until he burst his heart and fell dead upon his face.”
“Running from what?”
“There lies our problem. There are indications that the man wascrazed with fear before ever he began to run.”
“How can you say that?”