“Surely that must be the same Johnson whom I used to know,”
said Holmes to the porter. “A lawyer, is he not, gray-headed, andwalks with a limp?”
“No, sir; this is Mr. Johnson, the coal-owner, a very activegentleman, not older than yourself.”
“Surely you are mistaken about his trade?”
“No, sir! he has used this hotel for many years, and he is verywell known to us.”
“Ah, that settles it. Mrs. Oldmore, too; I seem to remember thename. Excuse my curiosity, but often in calling upon one friendone finds another.”
“She is an invalid lady, sir. Her husband was once mayor ofGloucester. She always comes to us when she is in town.”
“Thank you; I am afraid I cannot claim her acquaintance.
We have established a most important fact by these questions,Watson,” he continued in a low voice as we went upstairs together.
“We know now that the people who are so interested in our friendhave not settled down in his own hotel. That means that whilethey are, as we have seen, very anxious to watch him, they areequally anxious that he should not see them. Now, this is a mostsuggestive fact.”
“What does it suggest?”
“It suggests—halloa, my dear fellow, what on earth is thematter?”
As we came round the top of the stairs we had run up againstSir Henry Baskerville himself. His face was flushed with anger, andhe held an old and dusty boot in one of his hands. So furious washe that he was hardly articulate, and when he did speak it was ina much broader and more Western dialect than any which we hadheard from him in the morning.
“Seems to me they are playing me for a sucker in this hotel,” hecried. “They’ll find they’ve started in to monkey with the wrongman unless they are careful. By thunder, if that chap can’t find mymissing boot there will be trouble. I can take a joke with the best,Mr. Holmes, but they’ve got a bit over the mark this time.”
“Still looking for your boot?”
“Yes, sir, and mean to find it.”
“But, surely, you said that it was a new brown boot?”
“So it was, sir. And now it’s an old black one.”
“What! you don’t mean to say——?”
“That’s just what I do mean to say. I only had three pairs in theworld—the new brown, the old black, and the patent leathers,which I am wearing. Last night they took one of my brown ones,and to-day they have sneaked one of the black. Well, have you gotit? Speak out, man, and don’t stand staring!”
An agitated German waiter had appeared upon the scene.
“No, sir; I have made inquiry all over the hotel, but I can hearno word of it.”
“Well, either that boot comes back before sundown or I’ll seethe manager and tell him that I go right straight out of this hotel.”
“It shall be found, sir—I promise you that if you will have alittle patience it will be found.”
“Mind it is, for it’s the last thing of mine that I’ll lose in this denof thieves. Well, well, Mr. Holmes, you’ll excuse my troubling youabout such a trifle——”
“I think it’s well worth troubling about.”
“Why, you look very serious over it.”
“How do you explain it?”
“I just don’t attempt to explain it. It seems the very maddest,queerest thing that ever happened to me.”
“The queerest perhaps——” said Holmes, thoughtfully.
“What do you make of it yourself?”
“Well, I don’t profess to understand it yet. This case of yours isvery complex, Sir Henry. When taken in conjunction with youruncle’s death I am not sure that of all the five hundred cases ofcapital importance which I have handled there is one which cutsso deep. But we hold several threads in our hands, and the oddsare that one or other of them guides us to the truth. We maywaste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later wemust come upon the right.”
We had a pleasant luncheon in which little was said of thebusiness which had brought us together. It was in the privatesitting-room to which we afterwards repaired that Holmes askedBaskerville what were his intentions.
“To go to Baskerville Hall.”
“And when?”
“At the end of the week.”
“On the whole,” said Holmes, “I think that your decision isa wise one. I have ample evidence that you are being dogged inLondon, and amid the millions of this great city it is difficult todiscover who these people are or what their object can be. If theirintentions are evil they might do you a mischief, and we should bepowerless to prevent it. You did not know, Dr. Mortimer, that youwere followed this morning from my house?”
Dr. Mortimer started violently.
“Followed! By whom?”
“That, unfortunately, is what I cannot tell you. Have you amongyour neighbours or acquaintances on Dartmoor any man with ablack, full beard?”
“No—or, let me see—why, yes. Barrymore, Sir Charles’s butler,is a man with a full, black beard.”
“Ha! Where is Barrymore?”
“He is in charge of the Hall.”
“We had best ascertain if he is really there, or if by any possibilityhe might be in London.”
“How can you do that?”
“Give me a telegraph form. ‘Is all ready for Sir Henry?’ Thatwill do. Address to Mr. Barrymore, Baskerville Hall. What isthe nearest telegraph-office? Grimpen. Very good, we will senda second wire to the postmaster, Grimpen: ‘Telegram to Mr.
Barrymore to be delivered into his own hand. If absent, pleasereturn wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel.’
That should let us know before evening whether Barrymore is athis post in Devonshire or not.”
“That’s so,” said Baskerville. “By the way, Dr. Mortimer, who isthis Barrymore, anyhow?”
“He is the son of the old caretaker, who is dead. They have lookedafter the Hall for four generations now. So far as I know, he andhis wife are as respectable a couple as any in the county.”
“At the same time,” said Baskerville, “it’s clear enough that solong as there are none of the family at the Hall these people havea mighty fine home and nothing to do.”
“That is true.”
“Did Barrymore profit at all by Sir Charles’s will?” asked Holmes.
“He and his wife had five hundred pounds each.”
“Ha! Did they know that they would receive this?”
“Yes; Sir Charles was very fond of talking about the provisionsof his will.”
“That is very interesting.”