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For a moment or two I sat breathless, hardly able to believemy ears. Then my senses and my voice came back to me, whilea crushing weight of responsibility seemed in an instant to belifted from my soul. That cold, incisive, ironical voice couldbelong to but one man in all the world.

"Holmes!" I cried -- "Holmes!"

"Come out," said he, "and please be careful with the revolver."

I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stoneoutside, his gray eyes dancing with amusement as they fell uponmy astonished features. He was thin and worn, but clear andalert, his keen face bronzed by the sun and roughened by thewind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap he looked like any othertourist upon the moor, and he had contrived, with that catlikelove of personal cleanliness which was one of his characteristics,that his chin should be as smooth and his linen as perfect as if hewere in Baker Street.

"I never was more glad to see anyone in my life," said I as Iwrung him by the hand.

"Or more astonished, eh?"

"Well, I must confess to it."

"The surprise was not all on one side, I assure you. I had noidea that you had found my occasional retreat, still less that youwere inside it, until I was within twenty paces of the door."

"My footprint, I presume?"

"No, Watson, I fear that I could not undertake to recognizeyour footprint amid all the footprints of the world. If you seriously desire to deceive me you must change your tobacconist; forwhen I see the stub of a cigarette marked Bradley, Oxford Street,I know that my friend Watson is in the neighbourhood. You willsee it there beside the path. You threw it down, no doubt, at thatsupreme moment when you charged into the empty hut."

"Exactly."

"I thought as much -- and knowing your admirable tenacity Iwas convinced that you were sitting in ambush, a weapon withinreach, waiting for the tenant to return. So you actually thoughtthat I was the criminal?"

"I did not know who you were, but I was determined to findout."

"Excellent, Watson! And how did you localize me? You sawme, perhaps, on the night of the convict hunt, when I was soimprudent as to allow the moon to rise behind me?"

"Yes, I saw you then."

"And have no doubt searched all the huts until you came tothis one?"

"No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guidewhere to look."

"The old gentleman with the telescope, no doubt. I could notmake it out when first I saw the light flashing upon the lens."He rose and peeped into the hut. "Ha, I see that Cartwright hasbrought up some supplies. What's this paper? So you have beento Coombe Tracey, have you?"

"Yes."

"To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?"

"Exactly."

"Well done! Our researches have evidently been running onparallel lines, and when we unite our results I expect we shallhave a fairly full knowledge of the case."

"Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeedthe responsibility and the mystery were both becoming too muchfor my nerves. But how in the name of wonder did you comehere, and what have you been doing? I thought that you were inBaker Street working out that case of blackmailing."

"That was what I wished you to think."

"Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!" I cried withsome bitterness. "I think that I have deserved better at yourhands, Holmes."

"My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as inmany other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I haveseemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for yourown sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the dangerwhich you ran which led me to come down and examine thematter for myself. Had I been with Sir Henry and you it isconfident that my point of view would have been the same asyours, and my presence would have warned our very formidableopponents to be on their guard. As it is, I have been able to getabout as I could not possibly have done had I been living in theHall, and I remain an unknown factor in the business, ready tothrow in all my weight at a critical moment."

"But why keep me in the dark?"

"For you to know could not have helped us and might possibly have led to my discovery. You would have wished to tell mesomething, or in your kindness you would have brought me outsome comfort or other, and so an unnecessary risk would be run.I brought Cartwright down with me -- you remember the littlechap at the express office -- and he has seen after my simplewants: a loaf of bread and a clean collar. What does man wantmore? He has given me an extra pair of eyes upon a very activepair of feet, and both have been invaluable."

"Then my reports have all been wasted!" -- My voice trembled as I recalled the pains and the pride with which I hadcomposed them.

Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket.

"Here are your reports, my dear fellow, and very well thumbed,I assure you. I made excellent arrangements, and they are onlydelayed one day upon their way. I must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal and the intelligence which you haveshown over an extraordinarily difficult case."

I was still rather raw over the deception which had beenpractised upon me, but the warmth of Holmes's praise drove myanger from my mind. I felt also in my heart that he was right inwhat he said and that it was really best for our purpose that Ishould not have known that he was upon the moor.

"That's better," said he, seeing the shadow rise from myface. "And now tell me the result of your visit to Mrs. LauraLyons -- it was not difficult for me to guess that it was to see herthat you had gone, for I am already aware that she is the oneperson in Coombe Tracey who might be of service to us in thematter. In fact, if you had not gone to-day it is exceedinglyprobable that I should have gone to-morrow."

The sun had set and dusk was settling over the moor. The airhad turned chill and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. Theresitting together in the twilight, I told Holmes of my conversationwith the lady. So interested was he that I had to repeat some of ittwice before he was satisfied.

"This is most important," said he when I had concluded. "Itfills up a gap which I had been unable to bridge in this mostcomplex affair. You are aware, perhaps, that a close intimacyexists between this lady and the man Stapleton?"

"I did not know of a close intimacy."

"There can be no doubt about the matter. They meet, theywrite, there is a complete understanding between them. Now,this puts a very powerful weapon into our hands. If I could onlyuse it to detach his wife "

"His wife?"

"I am giving you some information now, in return for all thatyou have given me. The lady who has passed here as MissStapleton is in reality his wife."

"Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? Howcould he have permitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?"

"Sir Henry's falling in love could do no harm to anyoneexcept Sir Henry. He took particular care that Sir Henry did notmake love to her, as you have yourself observed. I repeat that thelady is his wife and not his sister."

"But why this elaborate deception?"

"Because he foresaw that she would be very much moreuseful to him in the character of a free woman."

All my unspoken instincts, my vague suspicions, suddenlytook shape and centred upon the naturalist. In that impassivecolourless man, with his straw hat and his butterfly-net, I seemedto see something terrible -- a creature of infinite patience andcraft, with a smiling face and a murderous heart.

"It is he, then, who is our enemy -- it is he who dogged us inLondon?"

"So I read the riddle."

"And the warning -- it must have come from her!"

"Exactly."

The shape of some monstrous villainy, half seen, half guessed,loomed through the darkness which had girt me so long.

"But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that thewoman is his wife?"

"Because he so far forgot himself as to tell you a true piece ofautobiography upon the occasion when he first met you, and Idare say he has many a time regretted it since. He was once aschoolmaster in the north of England. Now, there is no one moreeasy to trace than a schoolmaster. There are scholastic agenciesby which one may identify any man who has been in theprofession. A little investigation showed me that a school hadcome to grief under atrocious circumstances, and that the manwho had owned it -- the name was different -- had disappearedwith his wife. The descriptions agreed. When I learned that themissing man was devoted to entomology the identification wascomplete."

The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by theshadows.

"If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs. LauraLyons come in?" I asked.

"That is one of the points upon which your own researcheshave shed a light. Your interview with the lady has cleared thesituation very much. I did not know about a projected divorcebetween herself and her husband. In that case, regarding Stapletonas an unmarried man, she counted no doubt upon becoming hiswife."

"And when she is undeceived?"

"Why, then we may find the lady of service. It must be ourfirst duty to see her -- both of us -- to-morrow. Don't you think,Watson, that you are away from your charge rather long? Yourplace should be at Baskerville Hall."

The last red streaks had faded away in the west and night hadsettled upon the moor. A few faint stars were gleaming in aviolet sky.

"One last question, Holmes," I said as I rose. "Surely thereis no need of secrecy between you and me. What is the meaningof it all? What is he after?"

Holmes's voice sank as he answered:

"It is murder, Watson -- refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder. Do not ask me for particulars. My nets are closing uponhim, even as his are upon Sir Henry, and with your help he isalready almost at my mercy. There is but one danger which canthreaten us. It is that he should strike before we are ready to doso. Another day -- two at the most -- and I have my case complete, but until then guard your charge as closely as ever a fondmother watched her ailing child. Your mission to-day has justified itself, and yet I could almost wish that you had not left hisside. Hark!"

A terrible scream -- a prolonged yell of horror and anguishburst out of the silence of the moor. That frightful cry turned theblood to ice in my veins.

"Oh, my God!" I gasped. "What is it? What does it mean?"

Holmes had sprung to his feet, and I saw his dark, athleticoutline at the door of the hut, his shoulders stooping, his headthrust forward, his face peering into the darkness.

"Hush!" he whispered. "Hush!"

The cry had been loud on account of its vehemence, but it hadpealed out from somewhere far off on the shadowy plain. Now itburst upon our ears, nearer, louder, more urgent than before.

"Where is it?" Holmes whispered; and I knew from the thrillof his voice that he, the man of iron, was shaken to the soul."Where is it, Watson?"

"There, I think." I pointed into the darkness.

"No, there!"

Again the agonized cry swept through the silent night, louderand much nearer than ever. And a new sound mingled with it, adeep, muttered rumble, musical and yet menacing, rising andfalling like the low, constant murmur of the sea.

"The hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, come! Greatheavens, if we are too late!"

He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I hadfollowed at his heels. But now from somewhere among thebroken ground immediately in front of us there came one lastdespairing yell, and then a dull, heavy thud. We halted andlistened. Not another sound broke the heavy silence of thewindless night.

I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted. He stamped his feet upon the ground.

"He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late."

"No, no, surely not!"

"Fool that I was to hold my hand. And you, Watson, see whatcomes of abandoning your charge! But, by Heaven, if the worsthas happened we'll avenge him!"

Blindly we ran through the gloom, blundering against boulders, forcing our way through gorse bushes, panting up hills andrushing down slopes, heading always in the direction whencethose dreadful sounds had come. At every rise Holmes lookedeagerly round him, but the shadows were thick upon the moor,and nothing moved upon its dreary face.

"Can you see anything?"

"Nothing."

"But, hark, what is that?"

A low moan had fallen upon our ears. There it was again uponour left! On that side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliffwhich overlooked a stone-strewn slope. On its jagged face wasspread-eagled some dark, irregular object. As we ran towards itthe vague outline hardened into a definite shape. It was a prostrate man face downward upon the ground, the head doubledunder him at a horrible angle, the shoulders rounded and thebody hunched together as if in the act of throwing a somersault.So grotesque was the attitude that I could not for the instantrealize that that moan had been the passing of his soul. Not awhisper, not a rustle, rose now from the dark figure over whichwe stooped. Holmes laid his hand upon him and held it up againwith an exclamation of horror. The gleam of the match which hestruck shone upon his clotted fingers and upon the ghastly poolwhich widened slowly from the crushed skull of the victim. Andit shone upon something else which turned our hearts sick andfaint within us -- the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!

There was no chance of either of us forgetting that peculiarruddy tweed suit -- the very one which he had worn on the firstmorning that we had seen him in Baker Street. We caught theone clear glimpse of it, and then the match flickered and wentout, even as the hope had gone out of our souls. Holmesgroaned, and his face glimmered white through the darkness.

"The brute! the brute!" I cried with clenched hands. "OhHolmes, I shall never forgive myself for having left him to hisfate."

"I am more to blame than you, Watson. In order to have mycase well rounded and complete, I have thrown away the life ofmy client. It is the greatest blow which has befallen me in mycareer. But how could I know -- how could l know -- that hewould risk his life alone upon the moor in the face of all mywarnings?"

"That we should have heard his screams -- my God, thosescreams! -- and yet have been unable to save him! Where is thisbrute of a hound which drove him to his death? It may be lurkingamong these rocks at this instant. And Stapleton, where is he?He shall answer for this deed."

"He shall. I will see to that. Uncle and nephew have beenmurdered -- the one frightened to death by the very sight of abeast which he thought to be supernatural, the other driven to hisend in his wild flight to escape from it. But now we have toprove the connection between the man and the beast. Save fromwhat we heard, we cannot even swear to the existence of thelatter, since Sir Henry has evidently died from the fall. But, byheavens, cunning as he is, the fellow shall be in my powerbefore another day is past!"

We stood with bitter hearts on either side of the mangled body,overwhelmed by this sudden and irrevocable disaster which hadbrought all our long and weary labours to so piteous an end.Then as the moon rose we climbed to the top of the rocks overwhich our poor friend had fallen, and from the summit we gazedout over the shadowy moor, half silver and half gloom. Faraway, miles off, in the direction of Grimpen, a single steadyyellow light was shining. It could only come from the lonelyabode of the Stapletons. With a bitter curse I shook my fist at itas I gazed.

"Why should we not seize him at once?"

"Our case is not complete. The fellow is wary and cunning tothe last degree. It is not what we know, but what we can prove.If we make one false move the villain may escape us yet."

"What can we do?"

"There will be plenty for us to do to-morrow. To-night wecan only perform the last offices to our poor friend."

Together we made our way down the precipitous slope andapproached the body, black and clear against the silvered stones.The agony of those contorted limbs struck me with a spasm ofpain and blurred my eyes with tears.

"We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all theway to the Hall. Good heavens, are you mad?"

He had uttered a cry and bent over the body. Now he wasdancing and laughing and wringing my hand. Could this be mystern, self-contained friend? These were hidden fires, indeed!

"A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!"

"A beard?"

"It is not the baronet -- it is -- why, it is my neighbour, theconvict!"

With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and thatdripping beard was pointing up to the cold, clear moon. Therecould be no doubt about the beetling forehead, the sunken animaleyes. It was indeed the same face which had glared upon me inthe light of the candle from over the rock -- the face of Selden,the criminal.

Then in an instant it was all clear to me. I remembered howthe baronet had told me that he had handed his old wardrobe toBarrymore. Barrymore had passed it on in order to help Seldenin his escape. Boots, shirt, cap -- it was all Sir Henry's. Thetragedy was still black enough, but this man had at least deserved death by the laws of his country. I told Holmes how thematter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulness and joy.

"Then the clothes have been the poor devil's death," said he."It is clear enough that the hound has been laid on from somearticle of Sir Henry's -- the boot which was abstracted in thehotel, in all probability -- and so ran this man down. There is onevery singular thing, however: How came Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was on his trail?"

"He heard him."

"To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard manlike this convict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would riskrecapture by screaming wildly for help. By his cries he musthave run a long way after he knew the animal was on his track.How did he know?"

"A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming thatall our conjectures are correct --"

"I presume nothing."

"Well, then, why this hound should be loose to-night. Isuppose that it does not always run loose upon the moor. Stapletonwould not let it go unless he had reason to think that Sir Henrywould be there."

"My difficulty is the more formidable of the two, for I thinkthat we shall very shortly get an explanation of yours, whilemine may remain forever a mystery. The question now is, whatshall we do with this poor wretch's body? We cannot leave ithere to the foxes and the ravens."

"I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we cancommunicate with the police."

"Exactly. I have no doubt that you and I could carry it so far.Halloa, Watson, what's this? It's the man himself, by all that'swonderful and audacious! Not a word to show yow suspicions --not a word, or my plans crumble to the ground."

A figure was approaching us over the moor, and I saw the dullred glow of a cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I coulddistinguish the dapper shape and jaunty walk of the naturalist.He stopped when he saw us, and then came on again.

"Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last manthat I should have expected to see out on the moor at this time ofnight. But, dear me, what's this? Somebody hurt? Not -- don'ttell me that it is our friend Sir Henry!" He hurried past me andstooped over the dead man. I heard a sharp intake of his breathand the cigar fell from his fingers.

"Who -- who's this?" he stammered.

"It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown."

Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supremeeffort he had overcome his amazement and his disappointment.He looked sharply from Holmes to me.

"Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?"

"He appears to have broken his neck by falling over theserocks. My friend and I were strolling on the moor when weheard a cry."

"I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I wasuneasy about Sir Henry."

"Why about Sir Henry in particular?" I could not help asking.

"Because I had suggested that he should come over. When hedid not come I was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed forhis safety when I heard cries upon the moor. By the way" -- hiseyes darted again from my face to Holmes's -- "did you hearanything else besides a cry?"

"No," said Holmes; "did you?"

"No."

"What do you mean, then?"

"Oh, you know the stories that the peasants tell about aphantom hound, and so on. It is said to be heard at night uponthe moor. I was wondering if there were any evidence of such asound to-night."

"We heard nothing of the kind," said I.

"And what is your theory of this poor fellow's death?"

"I have no doubt that anxiety and exposure have driven himoff his head. He has rushed about the moor in a crazy state andeventually fallen over here and broken his neck."

"That seems the most reasonable theory," said Stapleton, andhe gave a sigh which I took to indicate his relief. "What do youthink about it, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

My friend bowed his compliments.

"You are quick at identification," said he.

"We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watsoncame down. You are in time to see a tragedy."

"Yes, indeed. I have no doubt that my friend's explanationwill cover the facts. I will take an unpleasant remembrance backto London with me to-morrow."

"Oh, you return to-morrow?"

"That is my intention."

"I hope your visit has cast some light upon those occurrenceswhich have puzzled us?"

Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

"One cannot always have the success for which one hopes.An investigator needs facts and not legends or rumours. It hasnot been a satisfactory case."

My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner. Stapleton still looked hard at him. Then he turned to me.

"I would suggest carrying this poor fellow to my house, but itwould give my sister such a fright that I do not feel justified indoing it. I think that if we put something over his face he will besafe until morning."

And so it was arranged. Resisting Stapleton's offer of hospitality, Holmes and I set off to Baskerville Hall, leaving thenaturalist to return alone. Looking back we saw the figure moving slowly away over the broad moor, and behind him that oneblack smudge on the silvered slope which showed where the manwas lying who had come so horribly to his end.