The Hound of the Baskervilles - Chapter 5

Books at Bedtime by Calming Anxiety, the hounds of the Baskervilles, chapter 5, 3 Broken Thread. Sherlock Holmes had, in a very remarkable degree, the power of detaching his mind at will, for two hours the strange business in which we had been involved appeared to be forgotten. He was entirely absorbed in the pictures of the modern Belgian masters. He would talk of nothing but art, and which he had the crudest ideas, from our leaving the gallery until we found ourselves at an orphanabland hotel.

Sir Henry Baskerville is upstairs expecting you, said the clerk. He asked me to show you up at once when you came. Have you any objection to my looking at the register, said Holmes? Not in the least.

The book showed that two names had been added after that of Baskerville. One was the offalist Johnson and family of Newcastle, the other Mrs Oldmore and made of High Lodge Olsen. Surely, that must be the same Johnson whom I used to know said Holmes to the porter. A lawyer, is he not?

Greyhead and walks with a limp. No sir. This is Mr Johnson, the colonel. A very active gentleman, not older than yourself.

Surely you are mistaken about his trade. No sir. He has used this hotel for many years, and he is also very well known to us. Ah, that settles it.

Mrs Oldmore too, I seem to remember the name. Excuse my curiosity, but often in calling upon one friend one finds another. She is an invalid lady sir. A husband was once mayor of Gloucester.

She always comes to us when she is in town. Thank you. I am afraid I cannot claim her acquaintance. We have established a most important fact by these questions Watson, he continued, in a low voice as we went upstairs together.

We know now that the people who are so interested in our friend have not settled down in this hotel. That means that while they are here as we have seen, very anxious to watch them, they were equally anxious that he should not be seen by them. Now this is a most suggestive fact. What does it suggest?

It suggests, hello my dear friend, what on earth is a matter? As we came round the top of the stairs, we had run up against the Henry Baskerville himself. His base was flushed with anger and he held an old dusty boot in one of his hands. So furious was he that he hardly could articulate and when he did speak it was in much broader and more western dialect than any we had heard from him in the morning.

Seems to me they are playing me for a succulon this hotel he cried. They'll find they've started in on a monkey with a wrong man at least they're careful. Bifed under. If that chap can't find my missing boot they'll be troubled.

I can take a joke with the best Mr. Holmes but they've got a bit over the mark this time. Still looking for your boot? Yes sir, I mean to find it. But surely you said that it was a new brown boot, so it was there and now it's an old black one.

What? You don't mean to say that's just what I mean to say. I only had three pairs in the world, the new brown, the old black and the patent letters which I am wearing. Last night they took one of my brown ones and today they've sneaked one of the black. Well have you got it?

Speak out man and don't stand staring. An agitated German waiter had appeared upon the scene. No sir, I've made inquiry all the way over the hotel but I can hear no word of it. Well, either that boot comes back before sundown or I'll see the manager and tell him that I go straight out of this hotel.

It shall be found sir, I promise. I promise that if you will have the patience it will be found. Mind it is, for it's the last thing of mine that I'll lose in this den of these. Well?

You'll excuse my troubling you about such a trifle. I think it's well worth troubling about. Why? You look very serious over it.

How do you explain it? I just don't attempt to explain it. It seems the very maddest, queerest thing that ever happened to me. The Queerest perhaps said home softly.

What do you make of it yourself? Well, I don't profess to understand it yet. The case of yours is very complex, Sir Henry. When taken in conjunction with your uncle's death, I'm not sure that all of the 500 cases of capital importance which I've ever handled, there is one which cuts so deep.

But we hold several threads in our hand. And the odds are that one or other of them guides us to the truth. We may waste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later we all come upon the right. We had a pleasant luncheon in which little was said of the business which had brought us together.

It was in a private city room, to which we afterwards repaired that Holmes asked Baskerville what were his intentions to go to Baskerville Hall and went at the end of the week. On the home, said Holmes, I think your decision is a wise one. I have ample evidence that you are being dogged in London and amid the millions of this great city it is difficult to discover who these people are or what their object can be. If their intentions are evil, they might do a mischief and we would be powerless to prevent it.

You did not know Dr Mortimer that you were followed this morning from my house. Dr Mortimer, he started violently, followed by whom. That unfortunately is what I cannot tell you. Have you among your neighbours or acquaintances on Dartmourn any man with a black full beard?

No, orn. Let me see, why yes, Barrymore. Sir Charles's butler is a man with a full black beard. Where is Barrymore?

He's in charge of the hall. He had best ascertain he is rarely there or if by any possibility he might be in London. How can we do that? Give me a telegram form.

Is already for Sir Henry, that will do. Address to Mr Barrymore, Baskerville Hall. What is the nearest telegraph office, Grimpin? Very good.

We will send a second wire to the postmaster, Grimpin. Grim to Mr Barrymore to be delivered to his own hand. If absent, please return wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, Northamble and Hotel. That should let us know before evening, whether Barrymore is at his post in Devonshire or not.

That's so, said Baskerville. By the way, Dr Mortimer, who is this Barrymore anyhow? He is the son of the old caretaker who is dead. They have looked after the hall for four generations now.

So far as I know, he and his wife are a respectable couple as any in the county. "At the same time," said Baskerville. It is clear enough that so long as there are none of the family at the hall these people have a mighty fine home and nothing to do. That is true.

Did Barrymore profited a wall by Sir Charles as well, asked him? He and his wife had £500 each. Did they know that they would receive this? Yes, Sir Charles was very fond of talking about the provisions of his will.

"That's very interesting." "I hope," said Dr Mortimer, "that you do not look with the spishers of heights upon everyone who received a legacy from Sir Charles. For I also had £1000 left to me. Indeed, and anyone else?"

"There were many insignificant sums to individuals and a large number of public charities. The residue all went to Sir Henry and how much was the residue? £740,000." Holmes raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I had no idea that Sojai Gantuk is some was involved," said he. Sir Charles had the reputation of being rich, but we did not know how rich he was until he came to examine his securities. The total value of this state was close on to a million. "Dear me, it is a state for which a man might well play a desperate game, and one more question Dr Mortimer."

Supposing that anything happened to our young friend here, you will forgive the unpleasant hypothesis, who would inherit the estate? Since Roger Baskerville, Sir Charles younger brother died unmarried. The estate would descend to the Desmines, who are distant cousins. James Desmines is an elderly clergyman in Westmoreland.

"Thank you. These details are all of great interest. Have you met Mr James Desmines?" "Yes."

"He once came down to visit Sir Charles. He is a man of venerable appearance and of saintly life. I remember that he refused to accept any settlement from Sir Charles, though he pressed it upon him. And this man of simple tastes would be the heir to Sir Charles's thousandth.

He would be the heir to the estate because that is entailed. He would also be the heir to the money, unless it were willed otherwise by the present owner, who can, of course, do what he likes with him. And to have you made your will, say Henry?" "No Mr Holmes, I have not.

I have had no time. For it was only yesterday that I learned how matters stood. But in any case, I feel that the money should go with the title and the estate. That was my poor uncle's idea.

How is the owner going to restore the glory so the Baskerville's if he is not money enough to keep up the property? House, land and dollars must go together." Right so, well Sir Henry, I am of one mind with you as to the advisability of your going down to Devonshire without delay. There is only one provision which I must make.

You must certainly not go alone. Dr Mortimer returns with me. But Dr Mortimer has his practice to attend to and his house is miles away from yours. With all the good will in the world, he may be unable to help you.

No Sir Henry, you must take with you some person a trusty man who will always be by your side. Is it possible that you could come yourself, Mr Holmes? If matters came to a crisis, I would endeavour to be present in person. But you can understand that with my extensive consulting practice and with the constant appeals within reach of me for many quarters, it is impossible for me to be absent from London for an indefinite time.

At the present instance, one of my most revered names in England is being besmirched by Blackmailer and only I can stop a disastrous scandal. You will see how impossible it is for me to go to Darmall. Then would you recommend then? Holmes played his hand on my arm.

If my friend would undertake it, there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I. The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville sees me by the hand and rung it heartily. Well now, that is really kind of you, Dr Watson said.

You see how it is with me and you know just how much about the matter is I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through, I'll never forget it. The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet had hailed me as a companion. I will come with pleasure said I, I do not know how I would employ my time better and you will report very carefully to me said Holmes.

When a crisis comes as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready. Would that suit Dr Watson? Perfectly.

Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the 1030 train from Paddington. He had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry of triumph and diving into one of the corners of the room. He drew a brown boot for Mandra cabinet. My missing bootie cried.

May all our difficulties vanish as easily said Sherlock Holmes. But it is a very singular thing, Dr Mortimer remarked. I searched this room carefully before lunch and so did I said Baskerville, every inch of it. There was certainly no boot in it then.

In that case, the waiter must have placed it here whilst we were lunching. The German was sent for, but professed to know nothing of the matter nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to the constant and apparently purpose of a series of small mysteries which succeeded each other so rapidly. Following aside, the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black bearded spy in the handsome, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot.

Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street. What I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon, late into the evening, he sat lost into backhoe and thought. Just before dinner, two telegrams were handed in.

The first ran have just heard that Baramore is at the hall, Baskerville, the second. Visited 23 hotels as directed, but sorry to report unable to trace cut sheet of times, can't write. There go two of my threads Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you.

We must cast around for another cent. We have still the cab man who drove the spy. Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the official registry.

I should be not surprised if this were an answer to my question. The ring at the bell proved to be something even more sexually than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough looking fellow entered who is evidently the man himself. I got a message from head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for number 2704 said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint.

I come here straight from the art to ask you to of your face what you had against me. I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes, "on the contrary. I have half a sovereign for you. If you will give me a clear answer to my questions." "Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cab man with a grin.

"What was it that you wanted to ask, sir?" "First of all, your name and address in case I need you again." John Clayton, three-tuckney street, the borough. My cab is out of Ship Lisiard near Waterloo station.

Sherlock Holmes made a note of it. Now Clayton. Tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at Teleclock this morning, and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street. The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed.

"Why? There's no good me telling you things. For you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone.

"My good fellow." "This is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me." You say that your fare told you that he was a detective. "Yes, he did.

When did he say this? When he left me?" "Did he say anything more?" He mentioned his name.

Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh?" He mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent.

What was the name he mentioned? His name, said the cabinet, was Mr. Sherlock Holmes. "Never. Have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabinet's reply?

For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst out into hearty laughing. A touch, Watson, an undeniable touch, said he. I feel a foil as quick as supple as my own.

He got home upon me very prettily at that time, so his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it? Yes sir. That was the gentleman's name. Excellent.

"Tell me, where you picked him up, and all that occurred." He hailed me at half past nine at Falgas Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two more guinies if I could do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree.

First, we drove down to the Northamble and Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here. This very door said Holmes? "Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fair knew all about it.

We pulled up halfway down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along. I know," said Holmes. Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street, then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away towards a loose station as hard as I could go.

I whipped up the mare, and we were there in under ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guinies, like a good one, and away he went into the station. "Only, just as he was leaving, he turned round and he said it might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes. That's how I come to know the name.

I see, and you saw no more of him, not after he went into the station. And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" The cab man scratched his head. Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe.

I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was very middle-height, two or three inches short to the new sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know, as I could have said more than that. Color of his eyes?

No, I can't say. Nothing more that you can remember. No sir, nothing. Well then, here is your half-sovereign.

There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good night. Good night sir, and thank you. John Clayton departed chocolate, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a roofful smile.

Snap goes our third thread, and we end up where we begin. The cunning rascal. He knew our number. He knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I'd got the number of the cab, and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message.

I tell you Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it.

About what? About sending you. It's nugly business Watson, an ugly, dangerous business, and the more I see of it, the less I like of it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more.