Chapter 7 Stapleton, owner of Seven Melipi House

The fresh beauty of the next morning more or less removed the horror and gloom which had formed upon our first sight of Baskerville Hall.By the time Sir Baskerville and I sat down to breakfast, the sunlight had diffused in from the tall window lattices, and through the coat-of-arms fitted in the windows cast patches of pale, dark shades. The wainscoting shone like bronze in the golden sunlight; it was hard to believe that this was the room where last night cast its shadow over our souls. "I suppose it's our own fault, not the house!" said the baronet. "At that time, we had an unpleasant impression of the place, from the fatigue of our journey and the coldness of our ride. Now our bodies and minds have been refreshed." , so I feel very happy again.”

"But it's not just a matter of imagination," I replied. "For example, did you hear someone—a woman, I think—crying at night?" "It's strange, I did hear crying when I was half asleep. I waited a long time, but I couldn't hear it again, so I'm sure it was all a dream." "I could hear it quite clearly, and I'm sure it was a woman's cry." "We've got to get this right at once." He rang the bell for Barrymore, and asked if he could explain the crying we had heard.It seemed to me that the steward's pale face grew paler when he heard the questions asked by his master.

"My lord Henry, there are only two women in this house," he replied, "one is the maid, who sleeps in the opposite wing; the other is my wife, but I assure you that the crying was not from her." from." But he turned out to be a liar, because I happened to meet Mrs. Barrymore on the porch after breakfast, the sun was shining on her face, a tall, stony, stout woman with a serious expression on her mouth. expression.But her eyes were unmistakably red, and she looked at me with red and swollen eyes.So, she was the one who cried at night.If she had wept, her husband must have known why, but he denied it at the obvious risk of being discovered.Why did he do this?Also, why was she crying so sadly?Around this fair-faced, handsome, black-bearded figure an atmosphere of mystery and misery had formed.It was he who first discovered Sir Childs' body, and from him alone we have an account of the circumstances which led the old man to his death.is it possible?Could it be that Barrymore was the man in the carriage we saw in Regent Street?Beards are likely to be the same.The coachman described a man of rather small stature, but such an impression may well be mistaken.How can I figure this out?Obviously, the first thing to do was to go to the postmaster at Greenpen to find out whether the tentative telegram had really been delivered to Barrymore in person.Whatever the answer, I should at least have something to report to Sherlock Holmes.

After breakfast, Sir Henry had a great deal of papers to look at, so it was just time for me to go out.It was a pleasant walk, and I followed the edge of the moor for four miles, and at last came to a deserted, dreary little village, with two large houses, taller than the rest, one of which, as I afterwards learned, was an inn, One was Dr. Mortimer's house, and the postmaster—again the village grocer—remembered the telegram well. "Certainly, sir," said he, "I did exactly as directed that telegram be delivered to Mr. Barrymore." "Who sent it?" "My boy. James, you sent that telegram to Mr. Barrymore at the estate last week, didn't you?"

"Yes, Dad, I gave it to you." "Did he receive it himself?" I asked. "Well, he was upstairs at the time, so I couldn't deliver it to him myself, but I delivered it to Mrs Barrymore, who promised to deliver it right away." "Did you see Mr. Barrymore?" "No, sir, I told you he was upstairs." "How did you know he was upstairs if you didn't see him?" "Oh, of course his own wife ought to know where he is!" said the postmaster sullenly. "Did he get that telegram after all? Mr. Barrymore himself should be the one to ask if anything went wrong. "

It seems hopeless to continue the investigation, but it is clear that, in spite of Holmes' ingenuity, we have not been able to prove that Barrymore had never been to London.Suppose that was the case—suppose he was the last to see Sir Childs alive, the first to follow the new heir who had just returned to England, so what?Was he instigated by others, or was there another personal conspiracy?What good would it do him to kill the Baskervilles?I am reminded of the warning letter clipped from The Times review.Was this what he did, or was it possible that someone was determined to oppose his plot?The only conceivable motive was that which Sir Henry had surmised, namely, that if the master of the estate could be frightened away, the Barrymores would have a permanent and comfortable home.But such an explanation was indeed quite inappropriate for the long-term conspiracy that wove an invisible net around the young baronet.Holmes himself has remarked that in his long astonishing list of detective cases there was never one more complicated.As I walked back along the gray and lonely road, I prayed silently in my heart that my friend would come here from his business, and take this heavy responsibility off my shoulders.

Suddenly the sound of running and calling my name interrupted my train of thought. I turned around, thinking it must be Dr. Mortimer, but to my surprise, I was pursued by a stranger.He was a short, thin, clean-shaven, well-proportioned man with fair hair and a thin chin, about thirty or forty years of age, dressed in gray clothes, a straw hat, and a Thin herbarium, holding a handful of green butterfly nets in one hand. "I am sure you will forgive my insolence, Dr. Watson," said he, as he came up to me, panting, "in this moor, people see each other as a family. , without waiting for a formal introduction. I think you may have heard my name from our friend Dr. Mortimer, and I am Stapleton of Melipy."

"Your box and net tell me that very well," said I, "for I knew Mr. Stapleton was a biologist. But how did you know me?" "Dr. Mortimer was walking by his window when I called on him, so he pointed you out to me. Since we're on the same road, I want to catch up with you and be myself. Introduction. I trust Sir Henry's journey is all right?" "Thank you, he's fine." "After the tragic death of Sir Childs, we all feared that the new baronet might not want to live here. It is a little unjustifiable that a rich man should condescend to be buried in such a place. But, I don't need to say more, but this is a matter of great importance to the country folk. Sir Henry, I suppose, has no superstitious fears about the matter?"

"I don't think so." "You must have heard the legend about the devilish hound that haunted the people?" "I've heard of it." "The farmers here are so credulous to rumors! Every one of them can swear that they have seen such a beast in this swamp." He spoke with a smile, but I seemed to see it from his eyes It can be seen from Li that he is very serious about this matter. "It had a great psychological effect on Sir Childs. I am sure that it was the cause of his tragic end." "how could be?" "His nerves were so strained that the sight of a dog would have had a fatal effect on his diseased heart. I reckon he actually saw something of the like in the yew-tree alley on the night of his death. I used to worry about some disaster because I liked the old man very much and I knew he had a weak heart."

"How do you know that?" "My friend Mortimer told me." "You think, then, that a dog chased Sir Childs, and that he died of fright?" "Do you have a better explanation than that?" "I haven't drawn any conclusions yet." "And Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" This sentence made me hold my breath for a moment, but when I looked at my companion's gentle and calm face and calm eyes, I felt that he didn't mean to surprise me. "It is useless for us to pretend we do not know you, Dr. Watson," said he; "we have already seen your detective account here, and you cannot do enough to praise you." and without making yourself known. When Mortimer spoke of you to me, he could not deny you. Now that you are here, it is evident that Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself is aware of the matter. I am interested in this matter, and I, of course, would like to know what he thinks about it."

"I'm afraid I can't answer that question." "With the liberty of asking, does he want the honor of coming here himself?" "He can't leave town just yet. He's concentrating on other cases." "What a pity! He may be able to shed some light on this inexplicable matter for us. While you are investigating, if I can be of service, do so. If I can know your doubts or It is how you intend to conduct the investigation, and I may be able to assist or advise in a moment." "You will be assured that I am only here to visit my friend Sir Henry, and that I do not need any assistance." "Well!" said Stapleton, "you are quite right in being so cautious. I have deserved my reprimand, for my thoughts were nothing but unreasonable meddling. I assure you, I will never Bring it up." We took a narrow grassy lane that slanted off the road and wound across the moor.On the right was a steep, rocky hill, which had been turned into a granite quarry many years ago; , floating a wisp of gray smoke. "A little walk along the moor path will bring you to Melipe," said he. "Perhaps you will spare an hour, and I should be glad to introduce you to my sister." It first occurred to me that I should accompany Sir Henry, but then I remembered the pile of papers and papers and papers which were piled up on his desk. Of course, I could not help him in these matters, and Holmes had deliberately Having said that I ought to examine my neighbors on the moor, I accepted Stapleton's invitation, and we turned into the lane. "This moor is a wonderful place," said he, looking round.The undulating hills are like continuous green waves; the jagged granite peaks are like strange-shaped water splashes stirred up by the waves. "You'll never tire of the moor. There are marvelous secrets in the moor beyond your imagination, so vast, so desolate, so mysterious." "Then you must know all about the moor?" "I've only been here two years, and the locals call me a newcomer, and Sir Childs hadn't been here long when we arrived. My interest led me to observe the country every part of it, so I think there are very few people who know it better than I do." "Is it hard to figure it out?" "It's difficult. You know, for example, there are several strange-shaped hills rising in the middle of this large plain in the north. Can you see anything special about it?" "It's one of those rare good places to gallop a horse." "Naturally you would think so, but it has cost so many lives so far. Can you see the places where the green grass is densely covered?" "Yes, it seems that that place is more fertile than other places." Stapleton laughed. "That's the Great Grimpen Mire," he said, "where a careless step kills man or beast. I saw a moor pony run into it yesterday, and it never came out again. For a long time I saw it stick its head out of the mud-hole, but at last it sank in. It was dangerous to walk through there, even in the dry months. After these autumn rains, it was even more dreadful there. But I'll find my way to the center of the quagmire, and come back alive. My God! Another hapless pony stuck in." Then I saw something brown rolling up and down in the green sedge, with its neck twisting and twisting upward, and then uttered a long cry of pain, a terrible roar that echoed through the moor.I was so scared that I felt cold all over, but his nerves seemed to be stronger than mine. "It's over!" he said, "the mire has swallowed it up. Two horses were lost in two days, and there may be many more after that; for they are used to running in dry weather." Go there, but they won't know the difference between a drought and a rain until they get tangled in the mire. Grimpen Mire is a terrible place." "But didn't you say you could get through it?" "Yes, there is a small path here, only those with agility can walk across it, and I have found this path." "But why do you want to go into such a dreadful place?" "Ah, do you see that hill over there? It's really like a small island cut off from the surrounding by an impassable, age-old mire. If you can find a way to get there, it's where rare plants and butterflies grow. where." "I'll try my luck someday." He suddenly looked at me with a surprised expression on his face. "Just give it up," he said. "That would be like killing you. I bet you'll rarely come back alive. I got there by memorizing certain intricate landmarks." "My God!" I exclaimed, "what's that?" A long, low, and indescribably miserable moan sounded throughout the moor, filling the entire space, but it was impossible to tell where it came from.It started as a muffled hum, then turned into a deep growl, then turned into a mournful rhythmic hum again.Stapleton looked at me curiously. "What a strange place the moor is!" he said. "What on earth is this?" "The farmers say it's the Baskerville hound looking for his game. I've heard it once or twice before, but never as loud as this." Trembling with fear, I looked around at the rolling fields dotted with patches of green groves.In the vast field, there was no movement except a pair of big crows croaking on the rocky hill behind us. "You are an educated man, surely you don't believe such nonsense?" I said. "Where do you think this strange sound comes from?" "The quagmire makes strange noises sometimes. The mud sinks, or the groundwater rises, or something." "No, no, that's the sound of animals." "Oh, maybe. Have you ever heard a heron call?" "No, never heard of it." "It's a rare bird in England--nearly extinct--but it might still be there in the moor. Yes, it wouldn't be surprising if what we'd just heard was the only call of a heron .” "It's really the scariest, weirdest sound I've ever heard in my life." "Yes, this is a mysterious and frightening place. Look over the hill, what do you think it is?" The whole steep hillside was a circle of gray stones, in at least twenty piles. "What is it, is it a sheepfold?" "No, that was the abode of our venerable ancestors. There were many people who lived in the moors in prehistoric times, and since no one has lived there since then, the details of the arrangements we see have not changed. They were exactly the same before they left the house. Those are their roofless huts. If you were curious enough to go inside, you'd see their stove and bed." "It's quite the size of a town. When did people ever live there?" "About Neolithic—no exact date." "What were they doing then?" "They grazed cattle on these hillsides, and when bronze knives began to take the place of stone axes, they learned to mine tin. Look at the ditches on the opposite hill, and that's the remains of the digging. Yes, Dr. Watson, you will Spotting something very special about the moor, oh, sorry, wait a minute! It must be the Cyclopedia moth." An unknown fly or moth flew across the path, and in an instant Stapleton was on his way with rare strength and speed.To my great surprise, the little animal flew straight towards the big mire, while my friend, waving his green net, kept jumping forward among the clumps of young trees.He was dressed in gray, and with his jerks and zigzags he looked like a moth himself.With mixed feelings of envying his unusually quick movements and fearing that he might stumble in the unfathomable quagmire, I stood there watching him chase after him.As I heard footsteps, I turned around and saw a woman on the side of the road not far from me. The hollows of the moor were hidden, so I didn't see her until she got very close. I believe this is the Miss Stapleton I have heard of, for there are very few ladies on the moor, and I remember hearing her described as a beauty.The woman approaching me was indeed of the most extraordinary type.Perhaps there is no more striking difference in appearance between siblings than this.Stapleton was of fair complexion, with light hair and gray eyes; she was darker than any dark-skinned girl I had ever seen in England, and was slender and well-mannered.She had a haughty and beautiful face, with features so regular that it would have looked cold were it not for sensitive lips and beautiful dark, eager eyes.With her perfect figure and noble attire, she looked like a strange ghost on a silent moor path.When I turned around, she was looking at her brother, and then she walked quickly towards me.I took off my hat and was about to say a few words of explanation when her words led my thoughts into a new path. "Go back!" said she. "Go back to London at once, and go at once." I could only stare at her in amazement.Her eyes were blazing at me, and one foot was slapping the ground impatiently. "Why should I go back?" I asked. "I can't explain." Her voice was low and earnest, with a strange tongue-like sound, "but for God's sake, do as I ask you, and go back and never go to the moor again. Come." "But I just came!" "You man, you man!" she exclaimed, "don't you see that this warning is for your own good? Go back to London! Start to-night! Get out of this place at all costs! Shhh , my brother is here! Don't say a word about what I have said. Would you please pick me that orchid over there on the Cedarweed? There are a lot of orchids in our swamp, and you obviously came too early. It's too late to see the beauty here." Stapleton had given up the hunt for the bug and was back at us, panting and flushed with exertion. "Aha, Belle!" he said.But it seemed to me that the tone of his greeting was not cordial. "Ah, Jack, are you hot?" "Well, I was chasing a Cyclopedia moth just now, a rare species in late autumn. What a pity I didn't catch it!" he said casually, but his But the bright little eyes kept looking at me and the woman's face. "I can see that you have already introduced yourself." "Yes, I was telling Sir Henry that he was too late to see the real beauty of the moor." "Ah, who do you think this is?" "I imagine it must be Sir Henry Baskerville." "No, no," said I; "I am but a lowly common man, Sir's friend, and I am Dr. Watson." Her expressive face was flushed with chagrin. "We actually started talking about it in a misunderstanding," she said. "Ah, it's okay, you guys haven't been talking for long." Her brother was still looking at us suspiciously as he spoke. "I don't talk to Dr. Watson as a guest, but as a resident," she said. "It doesn't matter to him whether orchids come sooner or later. But come on, don't you?" Have a look at our house in Melipe?" After a short walk, it is a lonely and lonely house on the moor. It used to be a shepherd's cottage when it was prosperous here, but now it has been repaired and has become a new-style dwelling.Surrounded by orchards on all sides, but the trees were stunted and stunted, like those in the moor, the whole place had a gloomy look.We were admitted in by a strange, wizened old manservant in well-worn and faded clothes who seemed to suit the house.The house in front is very large, and the interior is neatly and elegantly furnished, from which we can see the lady's hobbies.I looked out of the window at the endless stretch of granite-strewn moor, undulating uninterruptedly towards the distant horizon.I couldn't help wondering, what made this highly educated man and this beautiful lady come to live in such a place? "It's a queer spot, isn't it?" he said, as if in answer to a question I had in mind. "But we can have a good time, don't we, Belle?" "Happy," she said.But her tone seemed forced. "I once ran a school," said Stapleton, "in the North, and that kind of work would have been tedious for a man of my nature, but being able to live with young people and help It is very valuable to me to cultivate those young people and influence their hearts with personal conduct and ideals. However, our luck was bad. A serious infectious disease occurred in the school and three boys died. After this blow, the school never recovered, and most of my funds were irretrievably lost. However, I could not have given up the money if I hadn't lost the joy of living with those lovely children. It is an unfortunate incident that I carry with my heart. For I had a strong interest in zoology and botany, and here I found an inexhaustible source of material for my research, and my sister shared my love for The work of nature. All this, Dr. Watson, has entered your mind, as you can see in your expression, as you observe the moor outside our window." "It did occur to me that life here might be a little dull for your sister, and perhaps a little better for you." "No, no, I'm never bored," she said quickly. "We have books, we have our studies, and we have interesting neighbours. Dr. Mortimer is the most learned man in his world! Poor Sir Childs is a dear companion. We Know him well, and miss him unspeakably. Do you think I should take the liberty of calling on Sir Henry this afternoon?" "I dare say he will be delighted to see you." "Then it would be best if you mentioned, in passing, that I intend to do so. Perhaps we can chat as little as possible to make it easier for him, before he becomes used to his new surroundings. Would you like to come, Dr. Watson?" Would you like to see my collection of Lepidoptera? I think it is the most complete collection that can be found in the South West of England. By the time you have finished, lunch will be nearly ready." But I was already anxious to go back and see my client.The gloomy moor, the death of the unfortunate pony, and the hideous noise associated with the dreadful legend of the Hound of the Baskervilles, all this clouded my thoughts with melancholy.Over these more or less vague impressions rose Miss Stapleton's clear and definite warning.The manner in which she talked was so sincere that I could no longer doubt that there must be deep and serious reasons behind this warning.I declined all entreaties to stay for lunch, and immediately set off on my way back by the weedy path I had come on. As if a man familiar with the road must find a shortcut, I was startled to see Miss Stapleton sitting on a stone beside the path before I had reached the main road.She had a beautiful blush from the strenuous exercise, and she had her hands on her hips. "I came at once to stop you, Dr. Watson," said she, "and I did not even have time to put on my hat. I cannot stay here long, or my brother will be lonely in my absence." I want to express my deep apologies to you for my foolish mistake in taking you for Sir Henry. Please forget what I said, it has nothing to do with you. " "But I cannot forget, Miss Stapleton," said I, "that I am a friend of Sir Henry's, and I am very interested in his welfare. Tell me why you are so eager to think that Sir Henry should return to London." Where are you going?" "It's just a woman's whim, Dr. Watson. When you get to know me better, you'll see that I don't have a reason for everything I say and do about myself." "No, no. I remember that trembling tone of yours, and I remember the look in your eyes. Oh, tell me frankly, Miss Stapleton, I have felt Mysteries all around. Life has become like Grimpen Mire, with little patches of green here and there where a man gets stuck and no guide can show him a way out. Tell me, you What exactly do you mean, I promise you to convey your warning to Sir Henry." A look of indecision flashed across her face for a moment, but her eyes became determined again as she answered me. "You think too much, Dr. Watson," she said. "My brother and I were shocked by the news of Sir Childs' death. We knew the old man very well, because he loved to wear Moor came to our house for a walk. He was deeply affected by the bad luck that was hanging over his family. After this tragedy, I felt naturally that the fear he displayed was not without reason. Now when I was apprehensive when another member of the family came to live here, and I felt that a warning should be given of the danger that might befall him again. That was all I wanted to convey to him." "But what is the danger you speak of?" "You know the story of the Hound?" "I don't believe this nonsense." "But I believe it. If you can still influence Sir Henry, please take him away from the place that will always be fatal to his family. There is a place in the world, why should he choose to live in it?" What about this dangerous place?" "He came and lived here because it was a dangerous place, Sir Henry's character is like that. Unless you can give me some more specific information than this, I'm afraid it's not very easy to get him out of here." Easy." "I can't say anything specific anymore because I don't know anything specific at all." "I will ask you one more question, Miss Stapleton. If that was all you meant when you told me, why would you not want your brother to hear you? There is nothing worthy of him in it." Or where anyone objected." "My brother wished very much that the estate should be taken up, because he thought it would do some good to the poor people on the moor. He might be very angry if he knew what I said that might make Sir Henry go away. Now I have done my duty, and I will say no more. I must go back, or he will not see me, and suspect that I have come to meet you. Good-bye!" She turned and walked away, and within a few minutes I was lost among the rocks, and I hurried back to Baskerville Hall with a vague terror.