Chapter 8 The first report of Dr. Ba Huasheng

I shall henceforth transcribe, in the order of events, from my letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, which lay on the table before me.Although one of them has been lost, I believe that what I have written now is in no way different from the truth.I have a vivid memory of these sad events, but these letters always give a more accurate account of my feelings and suspicions at the time. My dear Holmes: My previous letters and telegrams have kept you abreast of what is happening in this most desolate corner.The longer one stays here, the deeper the spirit of the moor, so vast and so terrifyingly magical, will penetrate into one's soul.As soon as you are in the heart of the moor, you lose sight of modern England: but on the other hand, here and there you see the houses and labors of prehistoric peoples.As you walk, you are surrounded by the houses of these forgotten people, with their tombs and massive stone pillars, which may mark the location of their temples.When you see those huts built of gray rocks on the mottled hillside, you will forget the era you are in now. Shaggy man, with flint-pointed arrows on the bowstring, you will feel that his presence is more natural than your own here.It was strange that they should live so densely in what had always been the poorest land.I'm not an archaeologist, but I can imagine that they were some quarrelsome and downtrodden race, forced to accept a place that no one wanted to live in.

Obviously, these are all things that have nothing to do with the mission on which you have sent me here, and which might seem dull to the most practical of you.I still remember your indifference when it came to the question whether the sun revolves around the earth or the earth revolves around the sun.But let me return to the matter concerning Sir Henry Baskerville. If you have not received any reports in the last few days, it is because nothing important to report has occurred.However, an astonishing thing happened later, and I will report it to you in detail now.First, I want to give you an idea of ​​some other relevant factors in the whole situation.

One of them is the fugitive in the moor that I rarely talk about.It is now fully believed that he has escaped, which is a great relief to the scattered inhabitants of the district.Two weeks had passed since his escape, during which time no one had seen him or heard of him.It is indeed difficult to imagine that he could persist in staying in the swamp all this time.Of course, as far as hiding is concerned, he has no difficulty. Any small stone house can be used as a hiding place for him.But unless he could kill the sheep in the swamp, he would have nothing to eat.So we thought he had escaped, and the peasants who lived in the outskirts could sleep with some peace of mind.

We live here with four able-bodied men, so we can still take good care of ourselves.But frankly, I feel uneasy when I think of the Stapletons.They lived in a lonely place for miles around, with a maid, an old manservant, and their brother and sister, and the brother was not a very strong man.If this fugitive from Nauting Mountain broke through the door and fell into the hands of such a desperate guy, they would really be helpless.Sir Henry and I were very concerned about their situation, and had suggested that Perkins, the groom, should sleep with them, but Stapleton was unimpressed. In fact, our friend, the baronet, had begun to show considerable interest in our female neighbour.This was hardly surprising, for such an active man was boring in such a lonely place, and she was a very attractive beauty.There was something tropical and exotic about her, which contrasted strangely with her brother's cold and impassive demeanor, but he also gave one the feeling of a fiery emotion lurking within him.He must have had power over her, for I had seen her constantly look at him as she talked, as if asking his approval for everything she said.I believe he treats her well.His piercing eyes and thin, determined lips often belied a dogmatic and possibly brutish character.I think you will find him an interesting subject of study.

He called on Baskerville the first day, and the next morning he took us both to see the place where the legend about the dissolute Hugo happened.It was miles and miles across the moor, and the place was so desolate and desolate that it was possible to make up that story with emotion.We found a short ravine between two rocky hills, and following this ravine we came to an open and grassy clearing, covered with white cotton grass.In the center of the clearing stood two large rocks, the tops of which had been weathered into pointed shapes, much like the worn-out tusks of some gigantic beast.This scene is indeed consistent with the scene of the old tragedy in the legend.Sir Henry was very interested, and asked Stapleton more than once if he really believed in the possibility of demons interfering in the affairs of men.When he spoke, he seemed to be careless on the surface, but it was obvious that he was very serious in his heart.Stapleton answered very carefully, and it was easy to see that he wanted to say as little as possible, as if he did not want to express all his opinions because of the impact on the feelings of the Baron.He told us something similar about some families that had been haunted by demons, so he made us feel that he felt the same way about it.

On our way home we dined at Melipy, where Sir Henry and Miss Stapleton were made acquainted.He seemed to have been strongly attracted to her at the sight of her, and I dare say the affection was mutual.He also mentioned her over and over on our way home.From that day on, we saw their brother and sister almost every day.When they dined here tonight they talked about our going to them next week.One would have thought that such a pair would have been welcomed by Stapleton, but more than once I have seen the look on Stapleton's face whenever Sir Henry gave his sister the slightest look. There was a very strong resentment on the surface.He undoubtedly liked her very much, without her, his life would be very lonely, but it would be too selfish for him to hinder such a beautiful marriage like hers.I'm sure he didn't want their intimacy to develop into love, and I've found many times that he took pains to keep them from having the opportunity to be alone with each other.Well, you have instructed me that Sir Henry should never be allowed to go out alone, but adding the problem of love to our other difficulties makes it much more difficult.If I really carry out your orders firmly and thoroughly, I may become persona non grata.

That day—Thursday to be more precise—Mortimer dined with us, and he was overjoyed at the discovery of a prehistoric skull by excavating a tumulus at Long Hill.I have never seen such a single-minded and enthusiastic person like him!Then the Stapletons came, and at Sir Henry's request, the good doctor led us down the Yaw Lane, and explained to us what happened on the night Sir Childs died. all through.It was a long and dreary walk, and the yew lane was sandwiched between two rows of tall clipped hedges, with a strip of grass on each side and an old, battered arbor at the end.The little door that opened out onto the moor was in the middle, where the old gentleman had left his cigar ashes, a white wooden door with a latch, and the wide moor was beyond.I still remember your thoughts on the matter, and I tried to picture in my mind the whole reality of what happened.Probably as the old man stood there he saw something running towards him across the moor, and it frightened him into a panic and ran till he died of terror and exhaustion.He was running along that long, gloomy lane.But why did he run away?Just because of a sheepdog on the moor?Or did you see a big, silent, ghostly black hound?Is someone playing tricks on it?Had the white and watchful Barrymore concealed what he knew?All this seems confusing, but I always feel that there is a shadow of evil behind the scenes.

Since I last wrote to you, I have met another neighbor, Mr. Frankland of Ryford Park, who lives about four miles south of us.He was an elderly man with a ruddy complexion, silver-white hair, and a violent temper.He had a penchant for English law and spent vast fortunes in litigation.He litigated for the pleasure of arguing, and it was all the same as to which side of the issue he was on. No wonder he felt that this was a costly game.Sometimes he blocked a road and openly defied the order of the diocese to let him open; sometimes he even knocked down other people's gates with his own hands, and claimed that this was a passage a long time ago, refuting the infringement lawsuit brought against him by the original owner.He was well versed in the old manorship and commons laws, and he used his knowledge sometimes for the interests of the inhabitants of Fernworthy and sometimes against them.So, according to what he did, he was now carried triumphantly through the village street, and now he was made into a straw figure and burned.It is said that he still has seven pending lawsuits in his hands, which may swallow up what is left of his property.At that time, he will be like a wasp whose stinger has been pulled out, which can no longer do harm to people.Leaving legal matters aside, he seemed an affable man.I'm only mentioning him, because you specifically ordered me to send you some descriptions of the people around you.He was inexplicably busy now, he was an amateur astronomer, and he had an excellent telescope, which he spent all day crouching on his roof looking out over the moor, hoping to spot the fugitive.If he could devote his energy to this matter, all would be all right, but it is rumored that he is now trying to charge Mortimer with digging a grave without the consent of the next of kin. doctor.Because Mortimer excavated a Neolithic skull from an ancient tomb in Changgang.This Mr. Frankland really helps to break up the monotony of our lives, and to give us a little bit of entertainment when we desperately need it.

You have now been duly introduced to the fugitive, Stapleton, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland of Ryford Park.Let me close by telling you some of the most important things about Barrymore, of which last night's astonishing development in particular is all the more noteworthy. The first concerns your tentative telegram from London to ascertain whether Barrymore is indeed here.As I explained to you, the statement of the postmaster showed that the trial was fruitless, and we proved nothing.I told Sir Henry the truth of the matter, but he called Barrymore straight away, and asked him if he had received the telegram himself.Barrymore said yes.

"Did the child deliver it to you himself?" asked Sir Henry. Barrymore seemed surprised, and he thought about it for a while. "No," said he, "I was upstairs in the cottage, and my wife brought it up for me." "Did you reply the telegram yourself?" "No, I told my wife what to answer, and she went downstairs to write." That night, Barrymore brought up the issue again. "I do not quite understand what you are asking that morning, Sir Henry," said he; "I do not think that you are asking me in that way to say that I have done anything to make you lose your respect for me." Do you trust me?"

Sir Henry was now obliged to assure him that he had no intention of it, and to reassure him by giving him most of his old clothes.Because all the newly purchased things in London have now been shipped. Mrs. Barrymore, who caught my attention, was stout and wiry, prim and utterly respectable, with an almost puritanical austerity, and you could hardly imagine a more impulsive person.But I told you that on the first night I came here, I heard her sobbing sadly. Since then, I have seen her face more than once with tears stained, deep sorrow gnawing holding her heart.Sometimes I wondered if she harbored any guilt; sometimes I wondered if Barrymore might be a family tyrant.I always felt that there was something particularly suspicious in this person's character, but last night's adventure dispelled all my doubts. Perhaps the matter itself is trivial.You know, I'm not a very heavy sleeper, and because I'm always alert in this house, I don't sleep more soundly than usual.Last night, at about two o'clock after midnight, I was awakened by the sound of sneaking footsteps outside the house.I got up, opened my door, peeped out, and there was a long black shadow cast on the corridor floor.It was a figure in shirt and trousers, with bare feet, walking softly down the aisle, candle in hand.I could only see the outline of his body, but it was clear from his figure that it was Barrymore.He walked slowly and cautiously, and there was, in his whole appearance, an indescribably furtive air. I have told you that the corridor which encircled the hall was interrupted by a section of balcony, but continued on the other side of the balcony.I waited until he was out of sight before following him again, and when I approached the balcony, he had reached the end of the far corridor, and I saw a light from an open door, and know that he has entered a room.As the rooms were now unfurnished and unoccupied, his behavior was all the more surreptitious.The light was steady, as if he was standing still, and I tiptoed, as quietly as possible, down the corridor and peeked in from the door. Barrymore was bent over the window, holding a candle, and leaned close to the windowpane, with his head half-turned towards me, and his face was very serious with anxiety as he gazed out into the dark moor.He stood there watching intently for a few minutes, then he sighed deeply and extinguished the candle with a gesture of impatience.I went back to my room right away, and it didn't take long before I heard the sound of sneaking back.After a long time, when I was just about to fall asleep, I heard the sound of turning a lock somewhere, but I could not tell where it came from.What it all meant, I could not guess, but I thought there was something secret going on in this gloomy house, which we would sooner or later get to the bottom of it.I don't want to bother you with my opinion, since you have asked me to give only the facts.I had a long talk with Sir Henry this morning, and we have worked out a plan of action based on the observations I made last night.I'm not going to talk about it now, but it's sure to make my next report interesting to read. From Baskerville Hall October thirteenth