Chapter 6 of The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir, Arthur
Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain. Chapter 6, Baskerville Hall.
Sir, Henry Baskerville and dr. Mortimer were ready upon the
appointed day and we started as arranged for Devin.
Sure. Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Drove his me to the station and gave me his last parting
injunctions and advice. I will not buy us your mind by
suggesting theories or suspicions Watson said, he, I
wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner
to me and you can leave me to do the theorizing.
What sort of fact, I asked anything which may seem to have
a bearing. However, indirect upon the case,
and especially the relations between young Baskerville and
his neighbors or any fresh particulars concerning the death
of Sir, Charles, I I've made some inquiries myself in the
last few days, but the results have I fear.
Ben - one thing only appears to be certain, and that is that mr.
James Desmond. Who is the next Heir, is an
elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition.
So that, this persecution does not arise from him.
I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our
calculations. There remained the people who
will actually surrounds the Henry Baskerville upon the Moor.
Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this
Barrymore? Couple.
By no means you could not make a great mistake, if they are
innocent, it will be a cruel Injustice.
And if they are guilty, we should be giving up all chance
of bringing it home to them. No, no.
We will preserve them upon our list of suspects.
Then there is a groom at the hall.
If I remember, right, there are two more than the farmers.
There is our friend, dr. Mortimer.
Whom I believed to be entirely honest, and there is his wife of
whom. We know.
Nothing there is this natural Journalist Stapleton.
And there is his sister who is said to be a young lady of
attractions. There is mr.
Frankland of lafter Hall. Who is also an unknown factor
and there are one or two other neighbors.
These are the folk who must be your very special study.
I'll do my best. You have arms I suppose?
Yes I thought it as well to take them.
Most certainly keep your revolver near you night and day
and never relax your precautions.
How friends had already secured? A first-class carriage and were
waiting for us on the platform? No, we have no news of any kind
said, dr. Mortimer, an answer to my
friends questions, I can swear to one thing and that is that we
have not been shadowed during the last two days.
We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch and no one
could have escaped our notice You have always kept together, I
presume except yesterday afternoon.
I usually give up one day to Pure Amusement, when I come to
town. So, I spent it at the Museum of
the College of Surgeons and I went to look at the folk in the
park said Baskerville. But we had no trouble of any
kind. It was imprudent all the same
said Holmes shaking his head and looking very grave.
I beg Sir Henry that you will not go about alone.
Some great Misfortune will befall you if you do.
Did you get your other boot? No, sir.
It is gone forever. Indeed, that is very
interesting. Well, goodbye, he added as the
train began to Glide down the platform.
Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old
Legend, which dr. Mortimer has read to us and
avoid the more in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil
are exalted. I looked back at the platform
when we had left it far behind and saw the tall or steer figure
of homes, standing, motionless and gazing after us.
The journey was a Swift and pleasant one and I spent it in
making the more intimate acquaintance of my two
companions and in playing with dr.
Mortimer's spaniel in a very few hours, the brown Earth had
become ready. The brick had changed to Granite
and red cows grazed in. Well, hedged Fields where the
Lush grasses and more, luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer.
If add a climate Young Baskerville stared eagerly out
of the window and cried aloud with delight.
As he recognized The Familiar features of the Devon scenery.
I've been over a good part of the world since I left it.
Dr. Watson said he but I've never seen a place to compare
with it. I never saw a Devonshire man who
did not swear by his County. I remarked.
It depends upon the breed of men.
Quite as much as on the county said, dr.
Mortimer a glance at our friend here.
Reveals the rounded head of the celt which carries inside it,
the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment.
Poor sir Charles's head was a very rare type half Gaelic half.
I vernian in its characteristics but you are very young when you
last Saw Baskerville Hall. Were you not?
I was a boy my teens at the time of my father's death and had
never seen the whole for. He lived in a little cottage on
the south coast thence. I went straight to a friend in
America. I tell you it is all as new to
me as it is to dr. Watson.
And I'm as Keen as possible to see the more are you then your
wish is easily granted for there is your first sight of the more
said dr. Mortimer pointing out of the
carriage window. Over the green squares of the
fields and the low curve of a wood There.
Rose in the distance, a gray Melancholy hill with a strange
Jagged Summit dim and vague in the distance, like some
fantastic landscape. In a dream Baskerville sat, for
a long time. His eyes fixed upon it and I
read upon his eager face. How much it meant to him.
This first sight of, that strange spot where the men of
his blood had held sway, so long and left.
Their Mark so deep. There he sat with his Tweed suit
in the corner of a prosaic Railway carriage and yet as I
looked at his dark and expressive face, I felt more
than ever how true a descendant. He was of that long line of high
blooded, fiery and masterful men.
They were Pride Valor and strength in his thick brows, his
sensitive nostrils and his large, hazel eyes.
If on that forbidding more, a difficult and dangerous Quest
should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one.
Might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he
would, bravely share it, the train pulled up at a small
Wayside station and we all descended outside, beyond the
low white fence, a wagon act with a pair of cops was waiting.
Our coming was evidently a great event for stationmaster and
porters, clustered round us to carry out our luggage.
Judge, it was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was
surprised to observe that by the gate.
There stood, two soldierly, men in dark uniforms, who leaned
upon their short, rifles and glanced, keenly at us as we
passed The Coachman. A hard-faced gnarled little
fellow saluted, Sir, Henry Baskerville.
And in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad
White Road. Rolling past.
Dylan's curved upward on either side of us and old gabled houses
peeped out from amid, the thick green, foliage, but behind the
peaceful and sunlit Countryside There.
Rose ever dark against the evening Sky, the long gloomy
curve of the more broken by the jagged and Sinister Hills Do I
connect swung round into a side road and we curved upward
through deep planes worn by centuries of Wheels, High banks
on either side heavy with dripping moss and fleshy Hearts,
tongue ferns, bronzing Bracken and mottled bramble gleaned in
the light of the sinking Sun. Still steadily Rising.
We passed over a narrow, Granite bridge and skirted a noisy
stream which gushed swiftly down foaming.
And roaring amid, the gray Boulders both Road and stream
wound up through a valley dense with scrub Oak and fur at every
turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight.
Looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions.
To his eyes, all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of
melancholy lay upon the countryside which bore so
clearly the mark of the waning year, yellow leaves carpeted,
the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed the rattle
of our Wheels died away. As we drove through, drifts of
rotting vegetation, sad gifts, as it seemed to me for nature to
throw before the carriage of the returning are of the
Baskervilles. Hello cried, dr.
Mortimer, what is this a steep curve of Heath Cloudland?
An outlying spur of the more lay in front of us on the summit
hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon.
Its pedestal was a mounted Soldier, dark and Stern, his
rifle poised ready over his forearm.
He was watching the road along which we traveled.
What is this Perkins asked? Dr. Mortimer.
Our driver half turned in his seat is a convict escaped from
Princetown sir. He's been out here.
Three days now and the waters. Watch every Road in every
station, but we've had no sight of him yet.
The farmers are out here. Don't like you sir.
And that's a fact. Well, I understand that they get
five pounds if they can give information.
Yes, sir. But the chance of five pounds is
but a poor thin compared to the chance of having your throat
cut. You see?
It isn't like any ordinary convict.
This is a man who would stick at nothing.
Who is he? Then it is Selden the Notting
Hill murderer. I remember the case, well for it
was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of
the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality,
which had marked all the actions of the Assassin.
The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some
doubts as to his complete sanity.
So, atrocious was his conduct, our wagonette had topped a rise
and in front of us, Rose the huge expanse of the Moor
mottled, with gnarled and craggy Cairns and tours a cold wind
swept down from it and set a shivering somewhere there on
that desolate. Plain was lurking.
This fiendish man hiding in a burrow like a wild beast.
His heart full of malignancy against the whole race, which
had cast him out it needed, but this to complete the Grim,
suggestiveness of the barren, waste the chilling, wind and the
darkling Sky even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his
Overcoat more closely around him.
We had left the fertile country behind, and beneath us.
We looked back on it now. The slanting Rays of a low Sun,
turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red
Earth. New turned by the plow and
abroad, tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew,
Bleaker, and Wilder over. Huge russet and olives, slopes
sprinkled with giant Boulders now and then we passed a
Moorland Cottage wall. Roofed with stone with no
creeper to break its harsh outline.
Suddenly, we look down into a cup-like depression, patched
with stunted Oaks and Furs, which have been twisted and bent
by the fury of years of storm to high narrow Towers Rose over the
trees, the driver pointed with his whip.
Baskerville. Hall said he his master had
risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and Shining eyes
a few minutes later. We had reached the lodge Gates,
a maze of fantastic. Tracery in wrought iron with
weather. Bitten pillars on either side
blotched with lichens and surmounted by The Boar's.
Head's of the Baskervilles The lodge was a ruin of black
granite and Baird, ribs of Rafters, but facing, it was a
new building. Half constructed.
The first fruit of Sir, Charles's South African gold
through the Gateway. We passed into the Avenue where,
the wheels were again hushed. Amid the leaves and the old
trees shot their branches in a Samba tunnel.
Over our heads Baskerville shuddered, as we looked up the
long dark drive to where the house?
Glimmered, like a ghost at the farther end.
Was it here? He asked in a low voice.
No, no. The you Ali is on the other
side. The young are glanced round with
a gloomy face. It's no wonder, my uncle felt as
if trouble were coming on him in such a place.
As this said, he it's enough to scare any man.
I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six
months and you won't know it again with 1,000 candlepower
Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door.
The Avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf and the house
lay before us in the fading light, I could see that the
center was a heavy block of building from which a porch
projected, the whole front was draped in IV with a patch.
Clipped bear here and there where a window or a coat of arms
broke through the dark Veil. From this Central block, Bros
the Twin Towers ancient crenellated and pierced with
many loopholes to right? And left of the turrets were
more modern wings of black granite, a dull light Shone
through heavy, mullioned windows, and from the high
chimneys, which rose from the Steep High angled roof there,
sprang a single black column of smoke.
Welcome sir. Henry, welcome to Baskerville
Hall a tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open
the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was
silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall.
She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags.
You don't mind my driving straight home Sir.
Henry said dr. Mortimer.
My wife is expecting me. Surely you'll stay and have some
dinner. No, I must go.
I shall probably find some work. Awaiting me.
I would stay to show you over the house but Barrymore will be
a better guide than I goodbyes and never hesitate night or day
to send for me if I can be of service.
The wheels died away down the drive.
While Sir Henry, and I turned into the hall and the door
clanged heavily behind us, it was a fine apartment in which we
found ourselves, large lofty and heavily rafted with huge walks
of age black and Oak in the great old fashioned fireplace
behind the high iron dogs, a log fire, crackled and snapped.
So Henry and I held out our hands to it for, we were numb
from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the
high within window of old stained glass the oak.
Paneling the Stags heads, the Coats of Arms upon the walls all
dim, and sombre, in the subdued light of the central lamp, It's
just as I imagined it said, Sir Henry is it not the very picture
of an old family home to think that this should be the same
Hall in which for 500 years, my people have lived, it strikes me
solemn to think of it. I saw his dark face lit up with
a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him, the light beat upon
him, where he stood, but Long Shadows Trail Down the Walls and
hung, like a black canopy above him.
Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms.
He stood in front of us. Now with the subdued manner of a
well-trained servant he was a remarkable looking man.
Tall handsome with a square black beard and pale
distinguished Hers. Would you wish dinner to be
served at once sir? Is it ready in a few minutes?
Sir? You will find out water in your
rooms. My wife and I will be happy Sir
Henry to stay with you until you've made your fresh
Arrangements, but you will understand that under the new
conditions, this house will require a considerable staff.
What new conditions, I only meant it sir that Sir Charles
led a very retired life and we were able to look after his.
Once you would naturally wish to have more company and so you
will need changes in your household.
Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave only when it's
quite convenient to you, sir? But your family have been with
us for several Generations. Have they not?
I should be sorry to begin. My life here by breaking an old
family connection. I seem to discern some signs of
emotion upon the butler's white face.
I feel light also sir, and so does my wife, but to tell the
truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles and
he's death. Gave us a shock and made these
surroundings, very painful to us.
I fear that we shall never. Again be easy in our minds at
Baskerville Hall. But what do you intend to do?
I have no doubt sir that we shall succeed in establishing
ourselves in some business sir, Charles's generosity has given
us the means to do so. And now sir, perhaps I'd better
show you to your rooms. A square balustraded Gallery,
ran around the top of the old Hall approached by a double
stare, from this Central Point to Long corridors, extended the
whole length of the building from which all the bedrooms
opened. My own was in the same Wing as
Baskervilles and almost next door to it.
These rooms appear to be much more modern than the central
part of the house and the bright paper.
Are numerous scandals. Did something to remove the
somber impression. Which our arrival had left upon
my mind. But the dining room which opened
out of the hall was a place of Shadow and Gloom.
It was a long chamber with a step.
Separating the days where the family's at from the lower
portion reserved for their dependents.
At one end, a minstrels gallery, overlooked it, black beans shot
across above our heads, with a smoked are concealing Beyond
them with rows of flaring, torches to light it up and the
color and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet.
It might have Softened, but now when two black clothes
gentleman, sat in the little circle of light thrown by a
shaded lamp, ones voice became hushed.
And one Spirit subdued a dim line of ancestors in every
variety of dress. From the Elizabethan night, to
the buck of the Regency stared down upon us and daunted Us by
their silent company. We talked a little and I for one
was glad when the meal was over and we were Were able to retire
into the modern billiard room and smoke a cigarette.
My word, it isn't a very cheerful Place.
Said, Sir. Henry, I suppose one can tone
down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present.
I don't mind that. My uncle got a little jumpy.
If he lived all alone in such a house as this, however, if it
suits you, we will retire early tonight and perhaps things may
seem more cheerful in the morning.
I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out
from my window. It opened up upon the grassy
space which lay in front of the hall door Beyond to copses of
trees moaned and swung in a rising wind, a Halfmoon broke
through the Rifts of racing clouds in its cold light.
I saw beyond the trees are broken Fringe of rocks and the
long low curve of The Melancholy more.
I closed the curtain feeling that my last impression was in
keeping with the rest and yet, it was not quite the last.
I found myself weary and yet wakeful tossing, restlessly from
side to side, seeking for the Sleep, which would not come far
away a chiming Clock Struck out the quarters of the hours, but
otherwise are deathly silence lay upon the old house.
And then suddenly in the very dead of night, there came a
sound to my ears, clear, resonant and unmistakable, it
was the Saab of a woman, the muffled strangling gasp of one
who is torn by an uncontrollable sorrow.
I sat up in bed and listened intently.
The noise could not have been far away and was certainly in
the house. For half an hour.
I waited with every nerve on the alert, but there came no other
sound, save the chiming clock and the rustle of the ivy on the
wall. End of chapter 6.