Chapter 6 Six Baskervilles

On the appointed day, Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready.We set off for Devonshire as prearranged.Sherlock Holmes rode with me to the station, and gave me some parting instructions and advice. "I do not want to influence you by allegations and suspicions, Watson," said he; "I only wish you to report to me the facts in as much detail as possible, and leave the work of summarizing them to me." .” "What facts?" I asked. "It appears that any facts, however indirect, may be connected with the case, especially the relation of young Baskerville to his neighbors, or any new question connected with Sir Childs' violent death. Some time ago Today, I have made some inquiries myself, but I am afraid they are of no avail. Only one thing seems certain, that the next successor, Mr. James Desman, is an older man. He is a long gentleman with a very kind personality, so such persecution cannot be done by him. I really think that when we consider the problem, we can completely leave him behind, and the rest is actually just surrounded by moors. The people around Henry Baskerville."

"Wouldn't it be nice to get rid of the Barrymore couple first?" "Don't do that, or you're going to make a huge mistake. If they're innocent, it's unjust; if they're guilty, it doesn't give them what they deserve. .No, no, it can't be, we have to put them on the list of suspects. There's also a groom, if I remember correctly, and two moor farmers. And our friend Dr. Mortimer, I believe. He is perfectly honest, but we know nothing of his wife. Stapleton, the biologist, and his sister, who is said to be a charming young lady. Thanks to Frank of Ford Park Mr. Lan, he is an unknown character. There are one or two other neighbors. These are the characters you must study specially."

"I will do my best." "I take it you're carrying a weapon?" "I have brought it, and I think it's better to take it with me." "Of course, your revolver should be with you day and night, and you must not be careless for a moment." Our friends have reserved first-class seats and are waiting for us on the platform. "No, we haven't heard anything," said Mortimer, in response to my friend's question, "but one thing, I can assure you, we haven't been followed the last two days. Not once while we've been out Pay attention to those who observe, no one can escape our eyes."

"I suppose you're always together?" "Except yesterday afternoon. Whenever I come to town I always have a whole day devoted to amusement, so I spent the whole of yesterday afternoon in the gallery of the College of Surgeons." "I went to the park to see the fun," said Baskerville, "but we haven't had any trouble." "At any rate, it is quite negligent," said Holmes, shaking his head gravely. "Sir Henry, I beg you not to walk about alone, or you will be in danger. You have found it." Another loafer?" "No, sir, I can't find it any more."

"Indeed, it was a very interesting thing. Well, good-bye," he said, as the train moved slowly along the platforms, "Sir Henry, remember that strange and old A word in the legend of the world—do not walk across the moor when night falls and the power of evil is strong." When we were well away from the platform, I looked back and saw the tall, serious figure of Holmes still standing there, gazing at us motionless. It was a swift and pleasant journey, during which time my two companions and I became more intimate than ever, and sometimes played with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel.After a few hours of driving, the brown land slowly turned red, the brick houses were replaced by stone buildings, the bay red cattle were grazing in the well fenced field, the green grass and the extremely dense grass The vegetable garden shows that the climate here is humid and easy to get a good harvest.Young Baskerville looked eagerly out of the window, and cried out with delight as soon as he recognized the familiar scenery in Devonshire.

"I have been in many parts of the world since I left here, Dr. Watson," said he, "but I have never seen a place like this." "I've never met a Devonshireman who didn't praise his homeland," I said. "Not only the geographical conditions of this county, but also the local people are extraordinary." Dr. Mortimer said, "Just look at our friend, his round head is of the Celtic type, full of Celtic Poor Sir Childs' head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivorian in his features. When I saw Baskerville Hall, You're still young, aren't you?"

"I was a teenager when my father died, and he lived in a small house on the south coast, so I never saw the estate. After my father died, I went straight to Went to a friend in America. Let me tell you, this estate is as new to me as Dr. Watson, and I am very eager to see the moor." "Really? In that case, your wish will be easily granted, because you will see the moor." Doctor Mortimer pointed out the window as he spoke. Beyond the fields cut into countless green squares and the woods with low curves at the top, rose in the distance a gray and gloomy hill with strangely shaped and jagged notches on the top, far away. It looked dim and hazy, like a scene in a dream.Baskerville sat for a long time in silence, his eyes fixed on it.I could see from his eager facial expression how much this place meant to him, the first time I saw that weird place, held by the same people for so long, and everywhere it reminded people deeply of them The place.He was dressed in tweed, spoke with an American accent, and sat in the corner of an ordinary railway car, but every time I saw his dark and expressive face, I felt more He felt that he was really a descendant of that noble and warm family, and he had the demeanor of the head of the family.In his thick brows, nervous nostrils, and large chestnut eyes there is pride, boldness, and strength.If something difficult and dangerous had happened in that horrible swamp, he was at least a sure comrade who would bravely take up the responsibility.

The train stopped at a small station by the road, and we all got off.Beyond the low white railings, a wagon with two short-legged ponies waited.Our arrival was obviously a big event, and the stationmaster and porters surrounded us and led us to carry our luggage.This is a quiet, lovely and simple place, but at the exit, there are two soldiers-like men in black uniforms standing there, which makes me feel surprised.Their bodies were leaning on short rifles, and they watched us pass by with fixed eyes.The coachman, a small fellow with grim and rough features, saluted Henry Baskerville.In a few minutes we were speeding down the wide, gray avenue.The undulating pasture land bulges up on both sides of the avenue, and through the gaps of dense green shade, you can see some ancient houses with walls and roofs repaired in a herringbone shape. Behind the quiet, sun-drenched village is a stretch of The dark moor, which is constantly set off by the evening sky, is also lined with several jagged and sinister hills.

The four-wheeled carriage turned into a side road again, and we passed through the alley-like channel that was formed by the wheels over the centuries and sunk into the ground. Stone walls covered with wet moss and a thick-leaved fern.Bronze ferns and mottled blackberries glistened in the afterglow of the setting sun.We kept going up, crossed a narrow granite bridge, and walked along a rushing torrent.The water, rushing and foaming, roared among the gray stones.The road winds its way up winding rivers through gorges densely overgrown with stunted oaks and firs.At every turn Baskerville cheered with delight, looking eagerly about him, asking us countless questions.In his view, everything is beautiful, but I always feel that this area of ​​the countryside has some desolate taste and the obvious scene of late autumn.The path was covered with withered and yellow leaves, and when we passed by, some leaves fluttered down from overhead.The rattling of our carriages fell silent as our carriage passed over the dead leaves--these things seemed to me an ominous gift from the Creator scattered before the carts of the returning Baskervilles.

"Ah!" cried Dr. Mortimer. "what is that?" Ahead appeared a steep slope covered with evergreen shrubs such as heather, a point jutting out from the edge of the moor.At the highest point, there is a soldier on a horse, clearly, like a statue of a knight mounted on a pedestal, dark and stern, with a carbine ready to shoot and resting on his left arm stretched forward superior.He is watching over the path we are on. "What's that for, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer. The coachman turned around in his seat and said: "A prisoner escaped from Prince Town, sir. He has escaped for three days now. The jailers are watching every road and every station, but he has not been found yet. The nearby farmers are very concerned. Uneasy, sir, it is true."

"Ah, I know, if anyone can tip off the news, there will be a reward of five pounds." "Yes, sir, but the prospect of five pounds seems pitiful when compared with the prospect of having his throat cut. This is no ordinary criminal, you know. He's an unscrupulous man." "Then who is he?" "His name is Seldan, and he is the murderer on Nauting Hill." I remember that case very well. His crimes were extremely cruel, and the whole process of assassination was run through with utter atrocity. Therefore, this case once aroused Holmes' interest.Later, his death sentence was commuted because his behavior was surprisingly brutal, and people had some doubts about his sanity.Our carriage climbed to the top of the slope, and before us lay a vast moor, dotted with cairns and jagged hills, mottled and grotesque.A cold wind came from the moor and made us all shiver.In some ravine on that uninhabited plain, this devil-like man lurked like a beast, filled with hatred for those who had deserted him.The bare wasteland, the freezing wind, and the dark sky, combined with this fugitive, made the appearance all the more terrifying.Even Baskerville was silent, and he wrapped his overcoat tighter. The fertile countryside has fallen behind and below us. We looked back for a while, and the setting sun slanted, illuminating the water like golden threads, and the newly plowed red land and the wide dense forest were shining brightly.The road ahead on the terracotta and olive slopes was increasingly deserted, strewn here and there with boulders.Now and then we passed a little house in the moor, with walls and roof of stone, and no vines on the walls to hide its rough outline.We looked down, and suddenly came upon a bowl-like depression in which there grew little groves of oak and fir, bent by the wind with age.On the top of the forest, two thin and tall spiers stick out.The coachman pointed with his whip and said: "This is Baskerville Hall." The owner of the manor stood up, his cheeks flushed, his eyes shining, and a few minutes later we were at the door of the apartment.The gate was of dense iron bars, twisting and weaving in a wonderful pattern, and flanked by weather-beaten pillars, dirty with moss, capped with stone carvings of the Baskervilles. boar head.The concierge was a heap of crumbling black granite, with bare rafters showing.Opposite it, however, was a new building, just half completed, built for the first time by Sir Childs with gold earned in South Africa. As soon as you enter the gate, walk up the trail.Then the wheels fell silent over dead leaves, and the branches of old trees weaved a dark archway over our heads.Baskerville shuddered at the sight of a house glowing like a ghost at the end of the long dark drive. "Did that happen here?" he asked in a low voice. "No, no, the water pines are on that side." The young heir looked around sullenly. "In a place like this, it's no wonder my uncle always felt that something was going to happen," he said, "enough to scare anyone. I've decided to have a row of thousand-light Swans and Edisons in the front of the hall within six months." light bulb, and then you'll never recognize the place again." The road leads to a wide lawn, and the house is in front of us.In the dim light I could see a solid building in the center, with a corridor protruding in front of it.The front of the house was covered with ivy, clipped only where the windows or coats of arms were, as patches were put where the black visors were torn.There are a pair of ancient towers on the top of the central building, with gun holes and many lookout holes.On the left and right sides of the tower, there is a newer wing built of black granite.Dim light fell through the solid mullioned windows, and a black column of smoke rose from the tall chimneys on the steep and sloping roof. "Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!" A tall man emerged from the shadows of the corridor and opened the door of the carriage.In front of the yellowish light of the hall, there was another figure of a woman, and she came out to help the man take down our luggage bag. "Sir Henry, you will not be offended if I have to drive home all the time?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is waiting for me." "You'd better wait until you have dinner before going back." "No, I must go, perhaps there is something waiting for me at home. I should have stayed and shown you the house, but Barrymore was a better guide than I. Good-bye Well, day and night, as long as I can help, call me right away." As soon as Sir Henry and I entered the hall, the sound of the wheels in the path ceased, and the heavy closing of the door followed.The room we were in was beautiful indeed, high and large, with huge rafters and beams blackened with age.Behind the tall statues of iron dogs, logs crackled and crackled in the great old-fashioned fireplace.Sir Henry and I warmed ourselves by the fire, we were numb from the long drive.Then we looked round again, and saw the long narrow windows of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stuffed stag's head, and the coat of arms hanging on the wall, softly lit by the central chandelier. Under the bright light, it looks dark and gloomy. "As I imagined it," said Sir Henry, "isn't it just what an old family should look like? This is the hall where my family lived for five hundred years, and it makes me feel heavy to think of it .” As he looked about me, I could see a childlike enthusiasm burning in his swarthy face.There was light shining where he stood, but the long shadows on the wall and the dark ceiling seemed to have opened a canopy above his head.Barrymore came back after taking the luggage into our quarters.He stood before us with the obedience of a well-trained servant.He was a very handsome man, tall and handsome, with a black square-cropped beard and a fair, distinguished countenance. "Monseigneur, would you like to have supper at once?" "Are you ready?" "It will be ready in a few minutes, my lord. There is hot water in your rooms, Sir Henry, and my wife and I would be glad to stay with you until you make new arrangements, but you must Understand that in this new condition a considerable number of servants will be required in this house." "What's new?" "My lord, I'm just saying that Lord Childs lives a very reclusive life, so we can still take care of his needs, and you, of course, hope that more people will live with you, so You're bound to need to change the family situation." "You mean, you and your wife want to quit your job?" "My lord, of course, when it is convenient for you." "But you've lived with my family for generations, haven't you? I'd be sorry if I'd broken this long-standing family link when I first started living here." I seemed to see some signs of emotion in the butler's fair face. "I feel the same way, my lord, and so does my wife. To tell the truth, my lord, we were both very fond of Sir Childs, and his death has shocked us greatly, and the surroundings here, everywhere It pained us so much. I fear we shall never find peace of mind again at Baskerville Hall." "But what do you want to do?" "My lord, I am sure that if we do a little business we shall succeed. The generosity of Lord Childs has made it possible for us to do so. But now, my lord, I had better take the lead. Go and see your room." In the upper part of this ancient hall, there is a square veranda with a fence around it, which can only be accessed through a double-stacked staircase.Two long corridors protrude from the central hall and pass through the entire building, and all the bedrooms open to these two corridors.Baskerville's and my dormitories were on the same side, and almost immediately adjoining, and these rooms appeared to be much newer than the rooms in the middle of the building, and the brightly colored wallpaper and the numerous candles burning more or less eliminated A gloomy image that lingered in our minds when we first arrived. But the dining room, which opens onto the hall, is a dark and gloomy place. Leave it to the servants.At one end there is a concert hall on a high place.Sooty beams stretched over our heads, and above us the blackened ceiling.The austere atmosphere might have been softened, perhaps, in an ancient feast of rich, revelry, if the house had been lit with a row of flaming torches, but now?The two gentlemen in black sat in the small halo illuminated by the lampshade, their voices became lowered, and they felt depressed mentally.A looming row of portraits of our ancestors, in every variety of attire, from knights in Queen Elizabeth's time to dandies in the Regency days of Prince George IV, stared at us and accompanied us in silence Overwhelms us, frightens us.We spoke very little, and I was glad that the meal was finally over and that we could have a cigarette in the new-style billiard room. "To tell the truth, I don't think it's a very pleasant place here," said Sir Henry. "I thought I'd get used to it, but now I always feel that something is wrong. No wonder my uncle lives alone. It's going to get uneasy in such a house. Well, if you like, let's go to bed early to-night, and maybe things will look more cheerful in the morning." Before going to bed, I drew the curtains and looked out of the window.This window is open to the grass in front of the hall, and further away there are two clumps of trees, moaning and swaying in the stronger and stronger wind.A half-circle moon peeked out through gaps in the rushing clouds.Behind the woods, in the pale moonlight, I saw the jagged edges of the hills and the long low, gently rolling, gloomy moors.I drew the curtains, feeling that my impression at the time was consistent with the impression I had received earlier. But this is not the last impression.Although I was tired, I couldn't fall asleep. I tossed and turned, and the more I wanted to sleep, the more I couldn't sleep.The ancient house was enveloped in deathly silence, and in the distance came the chime of the clock, striking quarter to quarter.But then, suddenly, in the dead of night, a voice came to my eardrums, clear and loud.Unmistakably, it was the sound of a woman sobbing, like the choked and choked gasps of a man tormented by uncontrollable grief.I sat up in bed and listened intently.The sound could not have come from afar, and was certainly in this very house.So I waited for half an hour with every nerve tense, but there was no other sound but the striking of the clock and the rustling of the ivy beyond the wall.