Chapter 2

The Curse of the Baskervilles

"I have in my pocket a manuscript," said Dr. James Mortimer.

"I noticed it as you entered the room," said Holmes.
"It is an old manuscript."
"Early eighteenth century, if it is an original document."
"How can you say that, sir?"
"You have shown us an inch or two all the time that you have been talking. I put
that at 1730."
"The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer took it out from his pocket. "This family
paper was given to me by Sir Charles Baskerville. He asked me to take good care of it.
His sudden and tragic death about three months ago created so much excitement in
Devonshire. I may say that I was his personal friend as well as his doctor. He was a
strong-minded man, sir, sensible and practical. Yet he took this document very
seriously, and his mind was prepared for this kind of death."
Holmes stretched out his hand for the manuscript and put it on his knee.
"You will notice, Watson, the special use of the letter s. It is one of several things
which helped me fix the date."
I looked over his shoulder at the yellow paper. At the head was written:
"Baskerville Hall," and below in large, untidy figures: "1742."
"It seems it is a statement of some sort."
"Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend which runs in the Baskerville family."
"But I think that it is something more modern and practical that you would like to
talk to me about?"
"Most modern. A most practical, serious matter. We have twenty-four hours to
solve it. The manuscript is short and is directly connected with the affair. If you don't
mind, I will read it to you."
Holmes sat back in his chair, placed his finger-tips together, and closed his eyes.
Dr. Mortimer turned the manuscript to the light and read in a high voice the following old
story:
"There have been a lot of stories about where the Hound of the Baskervilles
came from. I come in a direct line from Hugo Baskerville. As I heard the story from my
father, who also heard it from his, I have decided to write it down. I believe that this is a
true story. And I ask you, my sons, to read this story and remember that the God
punishes those who do evil, but he will also forgive those who are sorry for what they
have done.
In 1642 Sir Hugo Baskerville was the head of Baskerville Hall. He was a most
wild man who did not believe in God. He was extremely cruel. This Hugo fell in love (if
this dark passion may be called love) with the daughter of a farmer who had lands near
the Baskerville estate. But the young woman was afraid of Sir Hugo and avoided him.
So this Hugo, with five or six of his evil friends, rode to the farm and carried off the
woman. Her father and brothers were away from home at that time and Sir Hugo knew
that. When they brought her to the Hall, they locked the girl in a room upstairs. Hugo
and his friends sat down in the dining- room and started drinking as they did every night.
And when they were drunk, they shouted and swore terribly. The poor girl upstairs was
scared to death by the shouting and cursing that came up to her from below. Finally,
she was so terrified that she climbed out of the window and down the ivy on the wall,
and ran across the moor to her father's farm.
Some little time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink to the girl upstairs, and
so found the room empty. He became as angry as a devil. He rushed down the stairs
into the dining-hall. He jumped on the great table and he cried aloud before all the
company that he would give his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he could catch
the girl before she reached home. One of Hugo's drunken friends cried out that they
should let the hounds chase her. And so Hugo did. He gave the hounds the girl's
handkerchief, jumped onto his black horse and off they rushed into the moonlight over
the moor.
Hugo's friends took their horses and followed Hugo. There were thirteen of them.
They took the path that led to the girl's home. After a mile or two they passed a farmer.
They asked him if he had seen Sir Hugo. And the man was so mad with fear that he
could hardly speak, but at last he said that he had seen the unhappy girl with the
hounds chasing her. 'But I have seen more than that,' said he. 'Hugo Baskerville passed
me on his black horse, and a hound of hell ran behind him silently.' The drunken squires
laughed at the farmer and rode on. But soon they stopped laughing when they saw the
black horse galloping across the moor with an empty saddle. The friends rode close
together. They were scared but they still rode on over the moor. However, each of them
would be glad to turn his horse back. Riding slowly they found at last the hounds.
Everyone knew that those hounds were brave and strong, but now they were crying and
yelping. They were looking down the narrow valley before them. They were very
frightened.
Hugo's friends stopped. Most of them would not go on, but the three bravest of
them rode on down the valley. It opened into a broad space. There stood two stones
which had been there for thousands of years. The moon was shining brightly and there
on the ground lay the unhappy girl. She had fallen dead of fear and exhaustion. The
body of Hugo Baskerville was lying near her. The three men were terrified when they
saw a great, black beast standing over Hugo. Its teeth were at Sir Hugo's throat. It was
shaped like a hound. But it was larger than any hound that they had ever seen. They
saw how the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, and then turned its evil eyes
towards them. The three men cried with fear and rode for life, still screaming, across the
moor. One, it is said, died that very night from what he had seen, and the other two
were mad for the rest of their lives.
Such is the tale, my sons, of the hound and how it first appeared. The Hound of the
Baskervilles has followed the family ever since. Many of the family have died in terrible
ways. That is why, my sons, I ask you not to cross the moor in those dark hours when
the Powers of Evil are the strongest."
When Dr. Mortimer finished reading this story he pushed his glasses up on his
forehead and stared across at Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Mr. Holmes was bored.
"Well?" said he.
"Do you find it interesting?"
"It may be interesting to a collector of fairy tales."
Dr. Mortimer took a folded newspaper out of his pocket.
 "Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. This is the
Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is about the death of Sir Charles
Baskerville. It happened a few days before that date."
My friend leaned a little forward and became more interested. Our visitor put his
glasses back on his nose and began:
"The sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville has caused deep sadness in the
county. Although Sir Charles had lived at Baskerville Hall for only two years, people
liked and respected him. He was friendly and extremely generous. Sir Charles had
made his money in South Africa. He returned to England with his fortune and, as he did
not have any children of his own, his desire was to help the community. He planned to
rebuild and improve the whole countryside. He generously gave to the poor. The facts
connected with the death of Sir Charles are not yet clear. The police are still
investigating. However, there is no reason to suspect a murder, or to imagine that death
could be from any unnatural causes. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and doctor of Sir
Charles, said that Sir Charles's heart had been weak for some time. Sir Charles was a
widower. He was very rich. However, his habits and tastes were simple. A married
couple named Barrymore worked at Baskerville Hall. The husband was a butler and the
wife was a housekeeper.
The facts of the case are simple. Every night before going to bed Sir Charles
Baskerville went for a walk down the famous Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall. On the fourth
of May he went out as usual to have a walk and smoke a cigar. Sir Charles was leaving
for London on the next day, and Barrymore was packing his luggage. At midnight
Barrymore became worried that Sir Charles had not returned. He found the hall door
open, and went to look for Sir Charles. The day had been wet, and Barrymore could see
Sir Charles's footmarks down the Alley. Halfway down this walk there is a gate which
leads out on to the moor. There were signs that Sir Charles had stood for some little
time there. He then walked on down the Alley. At the far end of the Alley his body was
discovered. One fact is still not clear. Barrymore claims his master's footprints changed
after the moor gate. It seems he was walking on his toes. A man, called Murphy, who
buys and sells horses, was on the moor not far away at the time. He had been drinking
a lot but he says he heard cries. Unfortunately, he is not able to say where they came
from. There are no signs that Sir Charles was murdered. However, his face was so
changed that Dr. Mortimer could not at first recognize his friend and patient. This
change of face might happen if a person dies because of a weak heart. Medical
examination of the body confirmed a heart attack. Everybody hopes that Sir Charles's
heir will move to the Hall and will continue the good work that Sir Charles started. The
heir is Mr. Henry Baskerville, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. The
young man lives in America. He is to be found and informed of his good fortune."
Dr. Mortimer folded the newspaper and put it back into his pocket.
"Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, about the death of Sir Charles
Baskerville."
"Thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for attracting my attention to this case.
There are certainly some interesting features. This article, you say, contains all the
public facts?"
"It does."
 "Then tell me the private ones." He leaned back, put his finger-tips together. His
face was very determined.
"Then," said Dr. Mortimer, who had become very nervous, "I will tell you
something that I have not told anyone yet. I did not want to tell anyone because it is
about the legend. The police wouldn't believe me and it isn't their job to look into old
legends, but there is no reason why I should not tell you.
"There are not a lot of people living on the moor. Those who live near each other
become friends and see each other very often. That is why I met Sir Charles Baskerville
very often. There are only two other well-educated men in the county. These are Mr.
Frankland, of Lafter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist. Sir Charles was retired, but
his illness brought us together. We had similar interests in science. He had brought
back much scientific information from South Africa. We spent together a lot of evenings
in scientific discussions.
"Over the last few months it became clear to me that Sir Charles was extremely
nervous and worried. He believed the legend so much that he would never go on the
moor at night. It may seem unbelievable, Mr. Holmes, but he was sure that a horrible
fate awaited his family. Certainly the descriptions which he was able to give of his
ancestors were not very positive. He kept thinking of the Powers of Evil. He could even
feel their presence. He often asked me if I had seen or heard any strange creatures on
the moor at night.
"Three weeks before Sir Charles's death I drove up to his house in the evening.
He was at his hall door. I was standing in front of him, when I saw his eyes fix over my
shoulder. He was staring past me and he was truly terrified. I turned round and just
caught a glimpse of something. I think it was a large cow. Sir Charles was so excited
and frightened that I had to go to look around for the animal. It was gone, however. After
this event Sir Charles was in the worst state of mind. I stayed with him all the evening.
He explained why he had been so frightened and told me the story of the Hound of the
Baskervilles. At that time I did not take it seriously and could not understand his
excitement.
"I advised Sir Charles to go to London. His heart, I knew, was weak, and the
constant anxiety which he lived in was not good for his health. I thought that a few
months in a town would help him become healthier and more relaxed. Mr. Stapleton,
our friend, had the same opinion. And then this tragedy happened.
"On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore, the butler who found the body,
sent for me, and I was able to reach Baskerville Hall an hour later. I checked everything
and can say that all the facts are true. I carefully examined the body. Nobody had
touched the body until I arrived. Sir Charles was lying on his face. His arms were
stretched out. His fingers were dug into the ground, and his face was changed so much
that I could hardly recognize him. There was certainly no physical injury of any kind. But
there was something that Barrymore did not notice. He said that there were no traces
on the ground round the body. He did not see any. But I did some little distance off, but
fresh and clear.
"Footprints?"
"Footprints."
"A man's or a woman's?"
 Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for a moment, and then he answered in a
whisper:
"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a huge hound!"