3 Baskerville Hall

Chapter 3 Baskerville Hall The following day, Holmes drove with me to the station. "We were tricked by that bearded fellow," he said. "I'm sure it amused him greatly to pretend to be me. These are cunning villains, Watson. Be on your guard in Devonshire." Sir Henry was waiting for me on the platform. We climbed aboard the train, and Holmes waved us off. As we journeyed westward, neat, hedged fields gradually gave way to wilder landscapes. Sir

Henry stared eagerly at the Devonshire scenery of his youth. Before long, we saw the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by jagged and sinister hills. The train pulled into a small station where we were met by a coachman. Soon we were flying along the narrow lanes with their high banks of bramble, bracken, and moss-covered stone. On a hillside we spotted some mounted soldiers. Our driver explained that a dangerous prisoner by the name of Selden had recently escaped and they were out searching for him.

Then we rounded a corner and two high, narrow towers rose above the trees. "Baskerville Hall," announced the driver. The tall, bearded figure of Barrymore was waiting to greet us at the front door. The house was enormous and gloomy, with a vast fireplace and stags' heads staring at us from the oak-covered walls. Sir Henry, noticing Barrymore was a similar size to himself, offered him a suitcase of his old clothes, which the butler accepted gratefully. After dinner, we retired to bed. I found myself unable to sleep. At some point in the night,

heard the sound of a woman sobbing. It seemed to come from nearby. The following morning, with sunlight flooding through the windows, Baskerville Hall looked a lot more cheerful. At breakfast, I asked Sir Henry if he'd heard the woman sobbing. "Now you mention it, I did, but I thought I was dreaming. We must ask Barrymore about this." He rang for the butler. Barrymore turned pale when he heard the question. "The scullery maid sleeps in the other wing, sir," he said. "The only other woman here is my wife, and I assure you it wasn't her." The butler was lying though, for just after breakfast I met Mrs. Barrymore and noticed her eyes were red from crying. I was getting suspicious of Barrymore and wondered if he really did receive Holmes's telegram. After breakfast, I walked four miles to the village of Grimpen. The postmaster there assured me that his son James had indeed delivered the telegram into Mr. Barrymore's hands, so the butler couldn't have been in

London. Even so, I still didn't completely trust him. As I walked back to Baskerville Hall, a young, fair-haired man came running up. He wore a straw hat and carried a butterfly net. "You must be Dr. Watson," he said. "Mortimer told me about you. I'm Jack Stapleton. I live nearby and I'm out on the moor every day collecting rare natural specimens. Speaking of which, I hope Sir Henry's not too worried about the hound that haunts his family. It had a terrible effect on Sir Charles. I believe it led to his death." "You really think he saw it then?" "Oh yes!"

We walked together along the road. "A wonderful place, the moor," said Stapleton. "It's so vast and dangerous. You see that plain to the north with the bright green spots? That's the Grimpen Mire. One false step and you'll get sucked in, never to be seen again." Just then, a long, low howl swept the moor. It filled the air, yet I couldn't tell from which direction it came. "Hear that?" said Stapleton. "I told you the hound was real." A moment later, a butterfly crossed our path and Stapleton was gone, chasing it across the moor.