6 The Hound of the Baskervilles

Chapter 6 The Hound of the Baskervilles On our return, Sir Henry told us that Frank Stapleton had visited. "He said sorry for getting so angry when he saw me with Beryl the other day, and he invited me over for dinner tomorrow night." I exchanged a quick glance with Holmes, but he motioned me to stay quiet. "When you go," Holmes told Sir Henry, "please tell Stapleton that Watson and I had to return to London." Sir Henry's face fell. "You really have to go?" "Just be sure to tell him that, and also that you intend to walk home across the moor after your dinner." "That sounds dangerous with the hound about." "I promise you'll be safe," Holmes assured him.

The following evening, Holmes and I hid near Stapleton's house. With us was Inspector Lestrade of the London police. Holmes had invited him along for extra support against this dangerous villain. Through the kitchen window, we could see Sir Henry dining with Jack Stapleton.To our left, over the Grimpen Mire, hung a dense white fog that was drifting slowly toward us. "Sir Henry had better come out soon," said Holmes anxiously, "or that fog will cover everything and we won't be able to protect him."

At last, Sir Henry said goodbye to Stapleton and started for home. By this time, the fog bank was just fifty yards from the path. Suddenly, we heard a terrifying roar and a thunder of running feet. We stared at the white wall of fog, wondering what horror was about to break out of it. Lestrade uttered a terrified yell as a dreadful shape emerged. It was an enormous coal-black hound, unlike anything seen before in nature. Fire burst from its mouth, its eyes glowed red, and its whole body was outlined in flickering flames. With frightening speed, the huge creature came bounding down the track after Sir Henry. He had turned and was staring at its approach, his face white in the moonlight, his body frozen with fear.

Lestrade and I fired our guns together and the animal yelped in pain, yet still continued toward its helpless victim. We chased after it, but were only in time to see it spring onto Sir Henry and drag him to the ground. I saw its jaws closing on his throat. Then Holmes fired five bullets into its side. With a final howl of agony, the beast fell, rolled onto its back, and died. Sir Henry lay stunned on the ground. I examined him and sighed with relief when I saw no wound. His eyes fluttered open and stared fearfully at us. "What was that?" he whispered. "It's dead, whatever it was," said Holmes. "The curse of the Baskervilles has finally been

laid to rest." We stared at the creature's corpse. It seemed part bloodhound, part mastiff, and the size of a small lion. Even in death, its jaws dripped with a bluish flame. "Now we must go after Stapleton," said Holmes. The front door was open when we reached his house. We rushed in and searched the rooms, but saw no sight of Stapleton or his wife. One of the bedroom doors was locked. "There's someone in here," said Lestrade. "I can hear movements." Holmes rammed the door with his shoulder and it broke open.

We ran in, our guns at the ready. Tied to a post in the middle of the room was Beryl Stapleton. We quickly untied her and removed the gag from her mouth. She could barely speak for fear and exhaustion. "Where is your husband, madam?" asked Holmes. "He fled to an old tin mine in the heart of the Grimpen Mire," she said. "It's where he kept his hound."