a manuscript," said

s you entered the

little monograph upon the subject. I put that at 1730.""The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer drew it from his breast-pocket. "This family paper was committed to my care by Sir Charles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic death some three months ago created so much excitement in Devonshire. I may say that I was his personal fr

tement of some sort.""Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend which runs in the Baskerville family.""But I understand that it is something more modern and practical upon which you wish to consult me?""Most modern. A most practical, pressing matter, which must be decided within twenty-four hours. But the manuscript is short

lief that it occurred even as is here set forth. And I wouldhave you believe, my sons, that the same Justice whichpunishes sin may also most graciously forgive it, and thatno ban is so heavy but that by prayer and repentance it

d, seeing that saintshave never flourished in those parts, but there was in him acertain wanton and cruel humour which made his name a byword through the West. It chanced that this Hugo came tolove (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under sobright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held landsnear the Baskerville

uting and terrible oaths which came up toher from below, for they say that the words used by HugoBaskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blastthe man who said them. At last in the stress of her fear shedid that which might have daunt

g upon the great table, flagons andtrenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud before allthe company that he would that very night render his bodyand soul to the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake thewench. And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury ofthe man, one more wicked or, it may be, m

ands. Everything wasnow in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some fortheir horses, and some for another flask of wine. But atlength some sense came back to their crazed minds, and thewhole of them,

and there ran mute behindhim such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be atmy heels.' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd androde onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for therecame a galloping across the moor, and the black mare,dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle andempty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for agreat fear was on them, but they still followed over

n the clearing, and there in the centrelay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear andof fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet wasit that of the body of Hugo Baskerviile lying near her,which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, andplucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great,black beast, shaped like a houn

Nor can it be denied that many of the family havebeen unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden,bloody, and mysterious. Yet may we shelter ourselves inthe infinite goodness of Providence, which would not forever punish the innocent bey

ster Elizabeth.]"When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushed his spectacles up on his fo

l?" sa

collector of fairy tales."Dr. Mortimer

year. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskerville which occurred a few days before

comparatively short period his amiability of character and extreme generosity had won theaffection and respect of all who had been brought intocontact with him. In these days of nouveaux riches it isrefreshing to find a case where the scion o

n talk how largewere those schemes of reconstruction and improvement whichhave been interrupted by his death. Being himself childless,it was his openly expressed desire that the whole countryside should, within h

to have been entirely cleared up by theinquest, but at least enough has bee

s personal tastes,and bis indoor servants at Baskerville Hall consisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband acting as butlerand the wife as housekeeper. Their evidence, corroboratedby that of several friends, tends to show that Sir Charles'shealth has for some ti

sual for his nocturnal walk, in the course of which he wasin the habit of smoking a cigar. He never returned. Attwelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open,became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search ofhis master. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles's footmarks were easily traced down the alley. Halfway down thiswalk there is a gate which leads out on to the moor. Ther

e worse for drink. He declaresthat he heard cries but is unable to state from what directionthey came. No signs of violence were to be d

e with the medical evidence. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of theutmost importance that Sir Charles's heir should settle at theHall and continue the good work which has been so sadlyinterrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner notfinally put an end to the romantic stories which have beenwhispered in connection with the affair, it might have beendiff

of interest. I had observed some newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly preoccupied by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting

from placing himself in the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to increase its al

fter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other men of education within many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man, but the chance of his illness brought us together, and a community of interes

duce him to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhung his family, and certainly the records which he was able to give of his ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presenc

a glimpse of something which I took to be a large black calf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was he that I was compelled to go down to the spot where the animal had been and look around for it. It was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make the worst impression upon his mind. I stayed with him all the evening, and it was on

the cause of it might be, was evidently having a serious effect upon his health. I thought that a few months among the distractions of town would send him back a

he change in the shape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were no other footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally I carefully examined the body, which had not been touched until my arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into the ground, and his features convulsed with some strong emotion to such an extent that I could hardly have sworn to his identit

were the footprints