I stared at her. I asked why. She said she could not explain, but she begged me to leave and never set foot on the moor again. Then she saw her brother returning.

“Hush,” she said. “Not a word. Please get that flower for me.”

Stapleton came up, breathing hard. He greeted her, but his tone was sharp. I told him my name was Dr. Watson, not Sir Henry. Miss Stapleton looked upset. She said she had misunderstood.

They led me to Merripit House. It was a lonely moorland home, but inside it was neat and comfortable. Stapleton said he had once run a school, but an illness killed three boys and ruined him. He came here to study plants and insects. He said he and his sister were happy, but her voice sounded false.

Stapleton said he would like to visit Sir Henry that afternoon. I said Sir Henry would welcome it. Stapleton asked me to stay for lunch and see his insect collection, but I refused. My mind was uneasy. The pony’s death, the strange moan, and Miss Stapleton’s warning stayed with me.

I started back toward Baskerville Hall. Before I reached the road, Miss Stapleton appeared again, out of breath. She had run to stop me.

“I made a foolish mistake,” she said. “I thought you were Sir Henry. Please forget what I said.”

I told her I could not forget. Sir Henry’s safety mattered to me, and I wanted the truth. She hesitated, then said she and her brother had been close to Sir Charles. Sir Charles believed the family curse. After his death, she feared the place was dangerous for any Baskerville. She wanted to warn Sir Henry.

I asked what danger she meant. She said she believed in the hound. She begged me to persuade Sir Henry to leave the moor and live somewhere else.

I asked why she did not want her brother to hear her warning. She said her brother wanted Sir Henry to stay, because he believed it would help the poor people on the moor. She said he would be angry if he knew she tried to drive Sir Henry away.

Then she turned and hurried off among the rocks. I walked on toward Baskerville Hall, with her warning weighing on my mind.

Chapter 8
First Report of Dr. Watson

Baskerville Hall, October 13th.

MY DEAR HOLMES,

I will give you facts, as you asked.

First, the escaped convict on the moor. People now think he has gone. Two weeks have passed, and no one has seen him. He could hide in the stone huts, but he would struggle to find food. The farmers feel safer.

I still worry about the Stapletons. They live far from help. There are only Stapleton, his sister, a maid, and an old servant. Sir Henry and I suggested that Perkins, our groom, should sleep there for protection, but Stapleton refused.

Sir Henry has begun to show strong interest in Miss Stapleton. She is very beautiful and very unusual for this place. Stapleton is polite, but I have seen him watch them closely. More than once I have caught a look of disapproval on his face when Sir Henry spoke to her. I have also noticed that Stapleton tries to stop them from being alone together.

Stapleton visited us the day after we arrived. The next morning he took us across the moor to the place linked with the old story of Hugo Baskerville. It was a lonely hollow with two great stones standing like teeth. Sir Henry asked Stapleton if he believed in supernatural forces. Stapleton answered carefully, but he left us with the sense that he believed the curse might be real.

We ate lunch at Merripit House that day, and Sir Henry met Miss Stapleton there. Since then we have seen them often. They are coming to dinner here tonight.

Dr. Mortimer has also been here. He is busy with an excavation and is very pleased with a prehistoric skull he found. On Thursday he came to lunch, and later we all walked to the yew alley at Sir Henry’s request. Mortimer showed us the moor gate, where Sir Charles stood and dropped ash from his cigar. I tried to picture Sir Charles waiting, then running down the alley in terror until his heart failed.

I have met another neighbour: Mr. Frankland of Lafter Hall. He is an older man who loves lawsuits and quarrels. He also has a telescope and spends time watching the moor, hoping to spot the escaped convict. He may try to cause trouble for Dr. Mortimer over the grave he opened.

Now I will tell you about the Barrymores and what happened last night.

First, your test telegram proved nothing. The village boy delivered it to Mrs. Barrymore, not to Barrymore himself. Sir Henry questioned Barrymore directly. Barrymore said he was in the box-room, and his wife brought the telegram to him. He said he told her what to reply, and she sent the answer.

Mrs. Barrymore still interests me. She looks strict and controlled, but she has cried more than once. I believe she was the woman who sobbed at night. Something is troubling her deeply.

Last night, about two o’clock, I woke to soft steps outside my room. I opened my door and saw a man moving along the corridor with a candle. He was in shirt and trousers and had no shoes. From his height I believe it was Barrymore.

I followed him quietly. He crossed the open balcony and went into the far corridor. He entered an empty room. A steady light shone through the open door, so I crept closer.

Barrymore was at the window. He held the candle against the glass and stared out toward the moor, as if he waited for something. He stood there for several minutes. Then he groaned, put out the candle, and left. I hurried back to my room. Soon I heard his steps pass again.

Later, I heard a key turn in a lock somewhere in the house.

I cannot explain this, but there is secret business here. Sir Henry and I have discussed what I saw, and we have made a plan based on it. I will report more soon.

Yours,
WATSON

Chapter 9
The Light upon the Moor
[Second Report of Dr. Watson]

Baskerville Hall, Oct. 15th.

MY DEAR HOLMES,

Events have moved quickly. I will keep to facts.

After my last letter I examined the room where I saw Barrymore at night. That window gives the clearest view of the moor. So Barrymore must have been watching for someone outside.

I told Sir Henry what I had seen. He said he had heard Barrymore’s steps before, at the same hour. We agreed to sit up and watch.

That morning Sir Henry tried to go out alone on the moor. I reminded him of your orders. He insisted. I followed him anyway, feeling guilty.

From the quarry hill I saw him walking on the moor path with Miss Stapleton. They spoke intensely. Then Stapleton came up fast with his net. Sir Henry put his arm round her, but she seemed to pull away. Stapleton reached them and shouted angrily. Sir Henry argued back. Miss Stapleton stood silent. At last Stapleton ordered his sister to leave with him. Sir Henry walked back alone, looking crushed.

I met Sir Henry and told him I had followed him. He was annoyed at first, then he laughed. He said Stapleton had acted like a madman. Sir Henry told me he had tried to speak of love and had offered to marry Miss Stapleton. She kept warning him that the moor was dangerous and begged him to leave. Then Stapleton rushed in and accused Sir Henry of forcing attentions on his sister. Sir Henry said his feelings were honourable, but Stapleton would not listen.

That afternoon Stapleton came to the Hall and apologised. He spoke privately with Sir Henry. After that they made peace. We will dine at Merripit House next Friday. Stapleton’s explanation was this: his sister is everything to him. He feared losing her. He asked Sir Henry to wait three months and treat her as a friend only. Sir Henry agreed.

Now to the Barrymore mystery.

The first night we waited, nothing happened. The second night we tried again, with the light low and no sound. Near two o’clock we heard a soft step in the passage. We followed it. Barrymore, barefoot, carried a candle into the same empty room. He crouched at the window and stared out, candle pressed to the glass.

Sir Henry walked in at once and demanded the truth. Barrymore tried to say he checked windows, but Sir Henry would not accept it. Barrymore said it was not his secret and he could not tell it.

I took the candle and held it to the glass as Barrymore had done. Outside, on the moor, a tiny yellow light appeared. Sir Henry made me move the candle, and the other light moved too. It was a signal.

Barrymore refused to explain, so Sir Henry dismissed him. Then Mrs. Barrymore rushed in, pale and shaking. She cried that it was her fault. She said her brother was starving on the moor, and they could not let him die. Her brother was Selden, the escaped convict.

She said Selden came to them after he escaped. He hid on the moor, and every second night they signalled him. If he answered, Barrymore carried food out to him. That was why Mrs. Barrymore cried at night. Barrymore said it was all true.

Sir Henry told them to go to their room. We would speak in the morning.

After they left, we still saw Selden’s light far away. Sir Henry wanted to capture him at once. I agreed. We armed ourselves and went out onto the moor.

A thin rain began. We moved toward the light. Then we heard the strange moaning cry again, rising and falling across the darkness. Sir Henry gripped my arm and said it sounded like a hound. I had to admit that people here call it the Hound of the Baskervilles. Sir Henry was badly shaken, but he refused to turn back.

We reached the signal. The candle was hidden between rocks so only Baskerville Hall could see it. We waited, and Selden’s face rose above the stones. He looked wild, dirty, and terrified. He saw something was wrong. Sir Henry and I rushed him. Selden cursed, threw a rock, and ran. The moon came out briefly and we chased him, but he was too fast. We had no chance to catch him.

As we turned back, I saw something else. On the top of a distant tor, black against the moon, stood a tall, thin man with arms folded, watching the moor. I pointed, but when I looked again he was gone. Sir Henry did not see him and thought it was probably a prison guard. I am not sure.

We will inform the people at Princetown where Selden is hiding.

That is my report. The Barrymore matter is now clear, but the moor still holds secrets.

Yours,
WATSON

Chapter 10
Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson

October 16th.
 The day was foggy and wet. Sir Henry felt low after the night on the moor. I felt danger near us, but I could not name it.

I still do not believe in a supernatural hound. Yet I have heard a sound like a hound twice. I also remember the man in the London cab, the warning letter, and the tall man I saw on the tor. I now think a stranger is still watching us here.

After breakfast Barrymore asked to speak with Sir Henry. Their voices grew loud. Sir Henry then called me in. Barrymore complained that it was unfair we chased Selden after learning the truth from them. Sir Henry answered that they only told us when we forced the secret out.

Barrymore begged Sir Henry not to tell the police that Selden was still on the moor. He said Selden would soon escape to South America. He also said Selden would not rob anyone, because we had been giving him food. Sir Henry agreed to keep silent. Barrymore thanked him.

Then Barrymore stopped and said he knew something else about Sir Charles’s death. Sir Charles went to the moor gate that night to meet a woman. Barrymore could not name her, but he knew her initials: L. L. He said Sir Charles received a letter that morning, from Coombe Tracey, in a woman’s hand. Later Mrs. Barrymore found the ashes of a burned letter in the fireplace. One small piece survived long enough to read. It asked Sir Charles to burn the letter and meet at the gate at ten o’clock. It was signed L. L. The scrap then fell to dust.

Sir Henry and I agreed this was important. I wrote to Holmes at once.

October 17th.
 Rain poured all day. I walked on the moor and searched the tor where I had seen the tall man before. I saw no one.

On my way back Dr. Mortimer drove up and gave me a lift. His spaniel had vanished on the moor and had not returned. He was upset.

I asked Mortimer if he knew any woman with initials L. L. He thought and then said Laura Lyons, who lives in Coombe Tracey. He told me she is Mr. Frankland’s daughter. She married a man named Lyons, who deserted her. Frankland rejected her for the marriage and gives her little money. People in the area helped her. Sir Charles helped her, and Stapleton also helped. Mortimer helped her start a typewriting business.

I decided to go to Coombe Tracey and see Laura Lyons.

That night I spoke with Barrymore again while Mortimer and Sir Henry played cards. I asked about Selden. Barrymore said he had not heard from him for three days. The food he left out was gone, but Barrymore said it might have been taken by another man.

I froze when he said that. Barrymore admitted there is another man hiding on the moor. He has not seen him, but Selden told him about him. Selden said the man is not a convict. He seems like a “gentleman” and keeps to himself. He lives in one of the old stone huts on the hillside. Selden also said the man has a boy who brings him supplies, perhaps from Coombe Tracey.

Barrymore looked scared and said he wanted Sir Henry back in London. He said there was “black villainy” in all this. After Barrymore left, I stared out at the storm and thought of a man living in a stone hut on the moor. I felt sure the centre of the mystery was out there, and I decided I would try to reach it very soon.

Chapter 11
The Man on the Tor

After I learned two important facts — that Mrs. Laura Lyons had written to Sir Charles and asked him to meet her at the gate, and that the strange man on the moor lived in one of the old stone huts — I decided to act at once.

In the morning I told Sir Henry what I had discovered about Mrs. Lyons. We agreed that it would be better if I visited her alone.

Mrs. Lyons received me in her rooms at Coombe Tracey. She was very beautiful, but there was something hard in her expression. At first she denied writing to Sir Charles on the day of his death. When I quoted the words from her burned letter, she turned pale and finally admitted the truth.

“Yes,” she said. “I wrote to him. I asked him to meet me. I needed his help.”

She explained that she wanted money to free herself from her unhappy marriage. She said she planned to meet Sir Charles at ten o’clock, but she never went because she received help from another person.

I questioned her many times, but she would say no more. I left feeling that she had not told me everything.

Now I turned to the second mystery — the man living on the moor.

There were many stone huts scattered across the hills, but I remembered clearly that I had seen the stranger standing on the Black Tor. I decided to search that area.

By chance, I met Mr. Frankland on the road. He proudly told me that he had seen, through his telescope, a boy carrying food across the moor every day. The boy always went toward the Black Tor.

When I looked through his telescope, I saw the boy myself — small and thin, carrying a bundle. He climbed over a hill and disappeared.

As soon as I could, I left Frankland and hurried across the moor toward the place where the boy had gone.

The evening sun was low, and the hills were silent and empty. At last I saw a group of old stone huts. One still had part of its roof. I felt sure this was the place.

Carefully, I approached with my revolver ready. I looked inside. The hut was empty.

But someone had clearly been living there. There were blankets, ashes from a fire, empty tins, and food on a flat stone. Under the food I found a piece of paper. It said: “Dr. Watson has gone to Coombe Tracey.”

I was shocked. The unknown man was not watching Sir Henry — he was watching me.

Someone had followed my movements and reported them. I understood then that we were caught in a careful and clever plan. I hid inside the hut and waited.

Soon I heard footsteps on the stones outside. They came closer and stopped at the entrance. I held my revolver tightly and stayed in the shadows.

Then a calm and familiar voice said: “It is a lovely evening, my dear Watson. I think you will be more comfortable outside.”

I stepped out in amazement. It was Sherlock Holmes.

He stood smiling on the moor, thin and sharp against the evening sky. All my surprise turned quickly into anger.

“Holmes!” I cried. “You here! Why have you hidden yourself?”

“My dear Watson,” he said quietly, “I needed to work in secret. If our enemy knew I was here, he would be careful. I could learn much more by remaining unseen.”

Holmes explained that he had been watching the case closely. He had stayed in the stone hut and sent the boy for supplies. He had followed every movement of the people around Baskerville Hall.

He told me that the danger was real and close. But he did not yet have enough proof.

“Be patient, Watson,” he said. “The end is near.”

And there, under the dark sky of the moor, the mystery deepened — but at last I knew that I was no longer alone.

Chapter 12
Death on the Moor

For a moment I could not breathe. Then I knew the voice. “Holmes!” I cried.

“Come out, Watson. And be careful with the revolver.”

I stepped outside the hut. Sherlock Holmes sat on a stone, thin and brown from the wind and sun. He looked tired, but his eyes were bright.

I was full of relief and anger at the same time.

“You are here! And you let me believe you were in London!”

“It was necessary,” he said calmly. “If our enemy knew I was here, he would be more careful. I could work better in secret.”

He explained that he had come to the moor earlier and was living in the hut. The boy Cartwright brought him food. He had read all my reports and praised my work. My anger slowly faded.

Then I told him about Mrs. Laura Lyons. He listened closely.

“This is important,” he said. “Stapleton and Mrs. Lyons understand each other very well. She believed he was free to marry. But the woman who calls herself Miss Stapleton is not his sister. She is his wife.”

I stared at him in shock.

“Yes,” Holmes continued. “Stapleton was once a schoolmaster in the north. The school failed. He disappeared with his wife and changed his name. I traced him.”

Everything became clearer. Sir Henry had fallen in love with a married woman. Stapleton had used her as part of his plan.

“What is he planning?” I asked.

“Murder,” Holmes answered quietly. “Cold and careful murder. We must protect Sir Henry. The danger is near.”

At that moment a terrible scream broke the silence of the moor. It was full of fear and pain.

Holmes jumped to his feet. “The hound!” he cried. “Come!”

We ran across the dark moor. Again we heard the scream. Then we heard a deep, terrible sound like the cry of a great beast.