1 The Curse of the Baskervilles

The hound of the Baskervilles.

Chapter 1 The Curse of the Baskervilles It was September 25, 1888, and I was with my friend Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective, at our Baker Street home, listening to a client. "Mr. Holmes," Dr. James Mortimer began, "I am faced with an extraordinary problem, and I hope you can help me. Before I explain it to you, I must give you some background history." He pulled an old manuscript from his coat pocket. "This document," he said, "describes a legend concerning the Baskerville family of Devonshire." The story Mortimer read to us was about a cruel, seventeenth-century nobleman named Hugo Baskerville. He took a liking to a farmer's daughter and stole her away one night, carrying her back to Baskerville Hall, his remote house on Dartmoor, where he imprisoned her in a tower. But that same night, while he was downstairs

making merry with his three friends, she managed to escape out of a window. Finding her gone, Hugo saddled his horse and went chasing after her across the moonlit moor. After several hours, when Hugo didn't return, his friends took off in search of him. Soon, they came across a shepherd who could barely speak for fear. He told them he'd seen Hugo on his horse being chased by a hound from hell. The searchers rode on and eventually came to a wide space between two great stones.

Here they found the farmer's daughter, dead from fear and exhaustion. Near her lay the body of Hugo Baskerville. But what scared them more than anything was the sight of a giant black hound, bigger than any that ever lived, devouring their friend. Suddenly, it looked up, turning its blazing eyes and dripping jaws on them. They screamed and rode for all their worth. One, it is said, died of fright shortly afterward. The other two were broken men for the rest of their lives. Since that night, according to the legend, the Baskerville family has been cursed. Many of Hugo's descendants have suffered sudden, mysterious, and gruesome deaths.

When he had finished reading, Dr. Mortimer gazed at Holmes, who was looking bored. "Is this not interesting?" he frowned. "To a collector of fairy tales, perhaps," said Holmes. "Less so to a detective." "Then perhaps I should update you on a more recent development," said Mortimer, drawing a folded newspaper from his pocket. The newspaper was from May of that year, and he read us a report on the death of Sir Charles Baskerville, the most recent owner of Baskerville Hall. According to the article, he was in the habit of taking a walk along an alley of yew trees in the grounds of Baskerville Hall each night before bed. On the night of May 4, he went out as usual, but never returned. At midnight, Barrymore the butler became alarmed—for Sir Charles was known to suffer from a weak heart—and he went in search of him. The day had been wet and Sir Charles's footprints were easily followed. He found cigar ash about halfway along the alley at a gate leading onto the moor, indicating that Sir Charles had stopped there for a while.

The footprints continued on from there, but they looked different, as if Sir Charles had been walking on tiptoes. Near the end of the alley, Barrymore was dismayed to find Sir Charles's body. There were no signs of violence on the corpse. However, his expression was that of someone suffering from extreme fear.