Chapter 13 Thirteen network
"We are about to catch him at last," said Holmes, as we walked across the moor together. "What a tough fellow! When he finds out that his plot has killed a man by mistake, he faces the How calm he was in the face of the most astonishing circumstances. I have told you in London, Watson, and I will tell you now, that we never met a more worthy opponent. Woolen cloth."
"I'm sorry he should have seen you."
"I felt the same way at first, but there was nothing I could do about it."
"Now that he knows you're here, what effect do you think will have on his plans?"
"May make him more cautious, and maybe make him immediately desperate. Like most criminals who are a little bit clever, he may put too much faith in his own cleverness, and imagine that he has completely deceived us. It's over."
"Why don't we arrest him at once?"
"My dear Watson, you are naturally eager for action, and your instinct is always to make you want to do something good. We can talk, suppose we arrest him to-night, but it would be wrong to do so." What good is it for us? We can prove nothing against him. There is devil-like cunning here, and if he is acting through a person, we can find some evidence, but if we are in broad daylight Pulling this big dog out of the woods will not help our plan of putting a rope around his master's neck."
"Of course we have evidence."
"Not a shadow of it—our evidence is nothing but speculation and conjecture. We'd be laughed out of court if all we had was a story like this and 'evidence' like this."
"Isn't the death of Sir Childs proof?"
"He died without a scar on his body, though you and I both know he was utterly frightened to death, and we know what frightened him to death. But how can we convince twelve jurors of that? Well. Where is the track of the hound, and where is the trace of his dog's teeth? We know, of course, that hounds don't bite dead bodies, and Sir Childs died before the brute overtook him. About these things we It would have to be proven, but it can't be done now."
"Then, can't what happened tonight also prove it?"
"Tonight, our situation was not much better. It was the same as last time. There was no direct connection between the hound and the man's death. We did not see the hound, although we heard its voice, But it does not prove that it followed the man, it is simply without reason. No, dear partner, we must admit a fact: we have not yet reached a complete and reasonable conclusion on the whole case, and any reasonable conclusions can be obtained. The risky actions at the conclusion are worth our time."
"What do you think should be done?"
"I have great hopes of what Mrs. Laura Lyons can do to help us, if only I can tell her the truth. Besides, I have my own plans. Today is the day alone, and there is no need for more." What about tomorrow? But I hope tomorrow will prevail."
I could ask no more questions from him, and he walked, lost in thought, until he reached the gates of Baskerville Hall.
"Are you going in too?"
"Well, I see no reason to hide any longer. But one last word, Watson. Don't tell Sir Henry about the Hound, and let him think of Seldan's death as Sta That's what Putton would have us believe. That way he'll have stronger nerves for what he's going to have to endure tomorrow. If I remember your report correctly, they've made an appointment to go to Stapleton tomorrow. home for dinner."
"They have an appointment with me, too."
"Then you must excuse your refusal. He must go alone, and that will be easy to arrange. Now, if we are past supper-time, I think the two of us can have supper."
Sir Henry was more pleased than surprised to see Sherlock Holmes, for he had been looking forward to it for some days, and hoped that recent events would prompt him to come here from London.However, he did express surprise when he found that my friend had neither luggage nor explained why.We soon got him what he needed, and in the middle of a late supper we told him as much of our encounter as it seemed the baronet ought to know.In addition, I took on the unpleasant responsibility of breaking the news to the Barrymores.It might have been a great relief to Barrymore, but she snatched up her apron and wept bitterly.To all the world he was a ferocious, half-beast, half-devil being; but in her mind he was always the same wayward, clutching woman she had been with when she was a child. Hands-on child.This man was really a heinous man, and there was not even a woman who cried for him when he was dying.
"I have been unhappy at home all day since Watson went out in the morning," said the Baronet. "I think I deserve some credit for keeping my word. If I hadn't sworn never to be alone." If I go out, perhaps I can have a pleasant evening, for I have had a letter from Stapleton asking me to come to him."
"I am sure you would have had a more pleasant evening if you had gone," said Holmes dryly. "However, we were very sorry to have thought you had a broken neck, and I think you always will." Wouldn't you be happy to know that?"
Sir Henry opened his eyes wide in surprise and asked, "What's the matter?"
"That poor wretch wears your clothes, and I'm afraid your servant gave him one. Maybe the police will come and make trouble for him."
"I'm afraid not. As far as I know, there is no mark on any of those clothes."
"Then he was lucky--you were all lucky, in fact, for in this matter, as far as the law is concerned, you have all committed a crime. As an impartial detective, I am almost certain that my duty is first and foremost It is to arrest your whole family. Watson's report is the most convincing proof of your conviction."
"But what has become of our case?" asked the baronet. "Have you got any clues in this mess? I do not think that Watson and I have been very well since we came here." clever."
"I think I shall soon be able to make the matter clearer. It is indeed a most difficult and most complicated case, and there are still points which we do not understand--but soon will be." .”
"We met once, as Watson must have told you. We heard the hound barking in the moor, so I can swear it was not all superstition. In the American West, I I've been around dogs for a while, and I know it. If you could put a bridle and a chain on this dog, I'd swear you'd be the greatest detective ever."
"I think I can put a bridle and chain on him if you will help me."
"I'll do whatever you tell me to do."
"Very well, I also have to ask you to do it blindly instead of always asking why, why."
"Just listen to you."
"If you do this, I think our little problem will be solved before long. I'm sure—"
He suddenly stopped talking and stared intently above my head.The lamplight shone on his face, so concentrated, so quiet, almost like a sharp-cut statue typical of antiquity--the personification of alertness and hope.
"What?" We both stood up.
When he looked down, I could see that he was suppressing his excitement.His expression was still composed, but his eyes shone with ecstasy.
"Forgive the admiration of connoisseurs," he said, gesturing to a row of portraits that hung on the opposite wall. "Watson will not admit that I know any art, but that is just jealousy, because We always have different opinions on a piece of work. Ah, these portraits are really well done.”
"Oh, I am glad to hear you say that," said Sir Henry, looking at my friend with astonishment. "I dare not pretend to be an expert in these things. I am no stranger to a horse or a steer." You can judge a picture much more. I didn't know you had time for such things."
"The good thing is, I can see it at a glance, and I can see it now. I can swear it is a portrait of a painting, that is, the portrait of the woman in the blue silk dress over there; The portraits of the gentlemen with the wigs must have been done. I suppose these are portraits of your family?"
"All of them."
"Do you know all the names?"
"Barrymore told me at length, and I think I can recite it pretty well."
"Who is that gentleman with the telescope?"
"That's Rear Admiral Baskerville, who served under Rodney in the West Indies. That man in the blue coat with the roll of paper was Sir William Baskerville, who, when Pitt was prime minister, He chairs the House of Commons committee."
"And this knight across from me—the one in the black velvet cloak and sash?"
"Ah, you must know him—the bad Hugo, the root of all misfortune, and the legend of the Hound of the Baskervilles began with him. We shall not forget him."
I too looked at the portrait with interest and some wonder.
"Good heavens!" said Holmes, "he does appear to be a man of serene and submissive manner, but I dare say there is surreptitiousness in his eyes. I have imagined him to be a more Much rougher and more brutal."
"The authenticity of this portrait cannot be doubted because the name and date '1647' are written on the back of the canvas."
Holmes said no more, but the portrait of the old alcoholic seemed to possess a fascination for him, and he kept his eyes fixed on it during supper.It was not until afterward, when Sir Henry had retired to his own chambers, that I could catch his train of thought.He led me back to the banquet hall again, holding the dormitory candle in his hand, and holding it aloft, to illuminate the portraits hanging on the walls that were dimmed with age.
"Can you see anything in the portrait?"
I looked at the wide-brimmed hat with the plume, the curly fringe of hair on the brow, the collar trimmed with white lace, and the serious, serious face amidst all this.Although not violent, he also appeared rude, cold and severe, with thin lips, tightly shut, and a pair of eyes that seemed cold and stubborn.
"Is it like someone you know?"
"A jaw like Sir Henry's."
"Maybe a little bit. Wait a minute!" He stood on a chair, held the candle in his left hand, and bent his right arm over his wide-brimmed hat and long hanging curls.
"My God!" I exclaimed in surprise.
It was as if Stapleton's face jumped out of the canvas.
"Haha, you can see it. My eyes are trained to check the appearance without being blinded by the accessory decorations. This is the first characteristic of criminal investigators, and should be able to see through any disguise."
"Simply wonderful, perhaps this is his portrait."
"Yes, it is indeed an interesting instance of atavism, both physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits is enough to convince one of reincarnation in an afterlife. Obviously, this fellow is a Baskerville offspring."
"There is still a conspiracy to usurp the right to inherit the property."
"Indeed, this portrait also happens to furnish us with a clue which is obviously most desperately needed. We've got him, Watson, we've got him. I'll swear by tomorrow night he'll be Flapping hopelessly in our nets like a butterfly he himself catches. Just a pin, a piece of cork, and a card, and we'll put him in the herbarium in Baker Street !"
As he walked away from the portrait, he burst into a rare laugh.I don't often hear him laugh, and when he does it always means that someone is going to be in trouble.
I rose very early the next morning, but Holmes was earlier than I, for I saw him coming back down the drive as I was dressing.
"Ah, today we have to fuck him hard for a day!" he said, rubbing his hands in joy before the action, "the net is all set, and it is about to be pulled back. Today we will see the result , shall we catch the pike, or shall he slip through our nets."
"Have you ever been in the moor?"
"I've sent a report to Princetown from Grimpen about Seldan's death. I think I can promise that none of you will get into any more trouble over it. I still Got in touch with my faithful Cartley, and if I didn't let him know that I was safe, he would have languished at the door of my cottage like a dog at its master's grave."
"What's the next step?"
"I'll have to talk to Sir Henry about that. Ah, here he is!"
"Good morning, Holmes," said the baronet, "you seem like a general planning a campaign with his chief of staff."
"Exactly. Watson is asking me for orders."
"I'm also here to wait for orders."
"Very well, as far as I understand, you are invited to dinner at our friend Stapleton's tonight?"
"I wish you would come too. They are very hospitable, and I dare say they will be delighted to see you."
"I'm afraid Watson and I must go to London."
"To London?"
"Yes, I think it would be much more useful for us to go to London than to be here at this time."
It could be seen that the baronet's face showed displeasure.
"I wish you would see me through this. It is not a pleasant thing to live alone on this estate and on this moor."
"My dear companion, you must have complete confidence in me, and do exactly as I tell you. You may tell our friend that we would have liked to go with you, but an urgent matter requires us to Go back to town. We hope to be back in Devonshire soon. Will you take this message to them?"
"If you insist on that."
"That's the only way to go, let me tell you for sure."
I could see from the baronet's furrowed brow that he thought we were deserting him, and that he was deeply displeased.
"When do you want to leave?" He asked in a cold tone.
"Leaving immediately after breakfast. We are going to Coombe Tracey by car first, but Watson has left his luggage behind as an assurance that he will still come back to you. You should write, Watson." To Stapleton, explain that you can't make the appointment and apologize to him."
"I should like to go to London with you," said the baronet. "Why should I stay here alone?"
"Because that's what you're called to do. You promised me to do what you were asked to do, so I'll let you stay here."
"Well, then, I'll stay."
"I have one more request for you. I hope you will take a carriage to Melipie's mansion, and then send your carriage back to let them know that you intend to walk home."
"Across the moor?"
"correct."
"But that's exactly what you've always told me not to do!"
"You do it this time, be safe. I would not have suggested it if I had not had complete confidence in your nerves and courage. You must do it."
"Well, then, I'll do it."
"If you value your life, cross the moor in no direction other than the straight road from Melipie House to Greenpen Highway, which is the way you must go home."
"I will do what you say."
"Very well. I should like to start as soon as possible after breakfast, so as to be in London in the afternoon."
Although I recall that Holmes had told Stapleton the previous evening that his visit would not end until the next day, I was astonished by the planning of the trip, which never occurred to me that he would wish me to join him. Walk together.I also don't understand, how can we both leave at the moment that he said is the most dangerous?But there is no way but to obey blindly.So we took leave of our sullen friends, and in two hours we reached Coombe Tracy Station, and sent the carriage home.A little boy was waiting for us on the platform.
"Any orders, sir?"
"Cartley, you take this train into town. As soon as you get there, send Sir Henry Baskerville a telegram in my name, saying that if he finds the notebook I left there." , ask him to send it to me by registered mail to Baker Street."
"Okay, sir."
"Now go to the post office at the station and ask if there is any letter for me."
The boy returned in a few moments with a telegram, which Holmes read and handed to me.It says:
Telegram received.Just bring a blank detention ticket to go.Arrived at five forty.
Lestrade
"This is a reply to my morning telegram. I think he is the most capable of the public detectives, and we may still need his assistance. Oh, Watson, I think we'd better use the time to call on you. Go, Mrs. Laura Lyons, my acquaintance."
His battle plan was beginning to emerge, and he was trying to use the baronet to convince the Stapletons that we were really gone, when in fact we could be at any moment, wherever we might be needed.If Sir Henry had mentioned the telegram from London to the Stapletons, it would have completely dispelled their suspicions.I seem to have seen that the net we had drawn around the barracuda was getting tighter and tighter.
Mrs. Laura Lyons was in her office.She was surprised by the frankness with which Sherlock Holmes had begun his interview.
"I am investigating the circumstances in connection with the sudden death of the late Sir Charles Baskerville," he said, "and this friend of mine, Dr. Watson, has reported to me what you have said and said , you still have a few things to hide about this matter."
"What have I been hiding?" she asked defiantly.
"You have admitted that you asked Sir Childs to be at the gate at ten o'clock. We know that was the time and place of his death. You concealed the connection of these events."
"There is no connection between these events!"
"In that case, it would indeed be a most curious coincidence. But I think we shall find a connection. I will confess to you, Mrs. Lyons, that we think it is a Murder. From the evidence available, not only your friend Stapleton, but his wife may also be implicated."
The lady jumped up suddenly from her chair.
"His wife!?" she exclaimed.
"The fact is no longer a secret. The person who was supposed to be his sister was in fact his wife."
Mrs. Lyons sat down again, clutching the armrest with both hands, and I saw that the pressure of her clasped hands had turned her pink nails white.
"His wife!?" she repeated. "His wife, he is not married yet!"
Sherlock Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
"Prove it for me! Prove it for me! If you can..." Her frightful twinkling eyes said more than anything else.
"I have come here to prove it to you," said Holmes, drawing some papers from his pocket. "This is a photograph of the couple taken in Yorkshire four years ago. On the reverse is written 'Mr. and Mrs. Vandale', but you can easily recognize him, and if you have met his wife, she will recognize him. Here are three reports from reliable witnesses on the Mr. and Mrs. Deller, who ran a private St. Oliver's Primary School at the time. Read it, and see if you still doubt whether it was these two."
She looked at the photo of the two of them together, and then looked up at us, with a cold face on the floor, showing a look of complete despair.
"Mr. Holmes," said she, "is the man who proposed to me that he would marry me if I could divorce my husband. He is a rascal, and he has contrived to deceive me. He did not tell me anything. To be honest. But why...why? I always thought everything was for my sake. Now I understand that I have always been a tool in his hands. He has never had the slightest affection for me. Why should I treat him He remains faithful, why should I shield him from the consequences of his crimes? Ask me what you will! I will hide nothing. But there is one thing I can say to you I swear, when I wrote that letter, it never occurred to me to do any harm to that old gentleman who is my best friend."
"I have every confidence in you, ma'am," said Sherlock Holmes, "that it will be painful for you to repeat the facts. Let me first go over them, and then you will examine them and see Is there any serious mistake in it, so that you may feel better. Was it Stapleton who suggested you write that letter?"
"He dictated it, and I wrote it."
"I think the reason he proposed for you to write was that you would thus be able to get financial help from Sir Childs for your expenses in the divorce proceedings?"
"Exactly."
"After you sent the letter, he discouraged you from going to the appointment?"
"He told me that it hurt his self-respect to have other people pay for such a purpose, and that, though he was poor, he would spend his last pennies to remove the barriers that separated us."
"It seems that he is a man of his word. You haven't heard anything from now on, except the report of the death in the newspaper?"
"correct."
"And he made you swear never to tell of your date with Sir Charles?"
"Yes, he said it was a very mysterious sudden death. If someone found out about our date, I would definitely be suspected. In this way, he scared me too much to speak."
"Exactly, but you have your own doubts about him, don't you?"
She hesitated for a moment and then lowered her head.
"I know what he is," she said, "but if he remains true to me, I will always remain true to him."
"On the whole, I think you have been very lucky to have escaped," said Sherlock Holmes. "He is in your grasp, as he knows, and yet you are still alive and not captured." He killed him. For months you have been hovering close to the brink of the precipice. Now we must bid you farewell, Mrs. Lyons, and perhaps you will hear from us again soon."
"Our preparations for solving the case are considered complete, and one difficulty after another is passing before us," said Holmes, as we stood waiting for the express train to come from the city. could write a whole of the strangest and most astonishing crime novels of modern times. Students of criminology will remember similar cases in Little Russia in 1866 at Godno, and of course in North Kaire The Anderson Murder in Lano State. But this case has some characteristics that are quite different from other cases. Although we don't have the definite evidence yet, enough to subdue this scheming man, but tonight, before we go to sleep, It would be strange if you still don't know."
The express from London roared into the station, and a small, wiry man like a bulldog jumped out of a first-class car.The three of us shook hands, and I could tell at once from the respectful way in which Lestrade looked at my companion that he had learned a great deal since they began working together.I well remember how the reasoning man used the theory to mock and irritate the practical man.
"Anything good?" he asked.
"Absolutely the most important business of all these years," said Holmes. "We have two hours before we can think of what to do. I think we can use the time to have dinner, and then, Lestrade, Let you breathe the cool night air on Dart Moor to get the London fog out of your throat, never been there? Ah, well! I don't think you'll forget this first visit. "
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