THE LIGHT UPON THE MOOR

MY DEAR HOLMES:

If I was compelled to leave you without much news duringthe early days of my mission you must acknowledge that I ammaking up for lost time, and that events are now crowding thickand fast upon us. In my last report I ended upon my top notewith Barrymore at the window, and now I have quite a budgetalready which will, unless I am much mistaken, considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I could nothave anticipated. In some ways they have within the last forty-eight hours become much clearer and in some ways they havebecome more complicated. But I will tell you all and you shalljudge for yourself.

Before breakfast on the morning following my adventure Iwent down the corridor and examined the room in which Barrymore had been on the-night before. The western window throughwhich he had stared so intently has, I noticed, one peculiarityabove all other windows in the house -- it commands the nearestoutlook on to the moor. There is an opening between two treeswhich enables one from this point of view to look right downupon it, while from all the other windows it is only a distantglimpse which can be obtained. It follows, therefore, that Barrymore, since only this window would serve the purpose, musthave been looking out for something or somebody upon themoor. The night was very dark, so that I can hardly imagine howhe could have hoped to see anyone. It had struck me that it waspossible that some love intrigue was on foot. That would haveaccounted for his stealthy movements and also for the uneasinessof his wife. The man is a striking-looking fellow, very wellequipped to steal the heart of a country girl, so that this theoryseemed to have something to support it. That opening of the doorwhlch I had heard after I had returned to my room might meanthat he had gone out to keep some clandestine appointment. So Ireasoned with myself in the morning, and I tell you the directionof my suspicions, however much the result may have shown thatthey were unfounded.

But whatever the true explanation of Barrymore's movementsmight be, I felt that the responsibility of keeping them to myselfuntil I could explain them was more than I could bear. I had aninterview with the baronet in his study after breakfast, and I toldhim all that I had seen. He was less surprised than I hadexpected.

"I knew that Barrymore walked about nights, and I had amind to speak to him about it," said he. "Two or three times Ihave heard hls steps in the passage, coming and going, just aboutthe hour you name."

"Perhaps then he pays a visit every night to that particularwindow," I suggested.

"Perhaps he does. If so, we should be able to shadow him andsee what it is that he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmeswould do if he were here."

"I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest,"said I. "He would follow Barrymore and see what he did."

"Then we shall do it together."

"But surely he would hear us."

"The man is rather deaf, and in any case we must take ourchance of that. We'll sit up in my room to-night and wait untilhe passes." Sir Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it wasevident that he hailed the adventure as a relief to his somewhatquiet life upon the moor.

The baronet has been in communication with the architect whoprepared the plans for Sir Charles, and with a contractor fromLondon, so that we may expect great changes to begin heresoon. There have been decorators and furnishers up from Plymouth, and it is evident that our friend has large ideas and meansto spare no pains or expense to restore the grandeur of hisfamily. When the house is renovated and refurnished, all that hewill need will be a wife to make it complete. Between ourselvesthere are pretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if thelady is willing, for I have seldom seen a man more infatuatedwith a woman than he is with our beautiful neighbour, MissStapleton. And yet the course of true love does not run quite assmoothly as one would under the circumstances expect. To-day,for example, its surface was broken by a very unexpected ripple,which has caused our friend considerable perplexity and annoyance.

After the conversation which I have quoted about Barrymore,Sir Henry put on his hat and prepared to go out. As a matter ofcourse I did the same.

"What, are you coming, Watson?" he asked, looking at me ina curious way.

"That depends on whether you are going on the moor," saidI.

"Yes, I am."

"Well, you know what my instructions are. I am sorry tointrude, but you heard how earnestly Holmes insisted that Ishould not leave you, and especially that you should not go aloneupon the moor."

Sir Henry put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasantsmile.

"My dear fellow," said he, "Holmes, with all his wisdom,did not foresee some things which have happened since I havebeen on the moor. You understand me? I am sure that you arethe last man in the world who would wish to be a spoil-sport. Imust go out alone."

It put me in a most awkward position. I was at a loss what tosay or what to do, and before I had made up my mind he pickedup his cane and was gone.

But when I came to think the matter over my consciencereproached me bitterly for having on any pretext allowed him togo out of my sight. I imagined what my feelings would be if Ihad to return to you and to confess that some misfortune hadoccurred through my disregard for your instructions. I assure youmy cheeks flushed at the very thought. It might not even now betoo late to overtake him, so I set off at once in the direction ofMerripit House.

I hurried along the road at the top of my speed without seeinganything of Sir Henry, until I came to the point where the moorpath branches off. There, fearing that perhaps I had come in thewrong direction after all, I mounted a hill from which I couldcommand a view -- the same hill which is cut into the darkquarry. Thence I saw him at once. He was on the moor pathabout a quarter of a mile off, and a lady was by his side whocould only be Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there was alreadyan understanding between them and that they had met by appointment. They were walking slowly along in deep conversation, and I saw her making quick little movements of her handsas if she were very earnest in what she was saying, while helistened intently, and once or twice shook his head in strongdissent. I stood among the rocks watching them, very muchpuzzled as to what I should do next. To follow them and breakinto their intimate conversation seemed to be an outrage, and yetmy clear duty was never for an instant to let him out of my sight.To act the spy upon a friend was a hateful task. Still, I could seeno better course than to observe him from the hill, and to clearmy conscience by confessing to him afterwards what I had done.It is true that if any sudden danger had threatened him I was toofar away to be of use, and yet I am sure that you will agree withme that the position was very difficult, and that there wasnothing more which I could do.

Our friend, Sir Henry, and the lady had halted on the path andwere standing deeply absorbed in their conversation, when I wassuddenly aware that I was not the only witness of their interview.A wisp of green floating in the air caught my eye, and anotherglance showed me that it was carried on a stick by a man whowas moving among the broken ground. It was Stapleton with hisbutterfly-net. He was very much closer to the pair than I was,and he appeared to be moving in their direction. At this instantSir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side. His arm wasround her, but it seemed to me that she was straining away fromhim with her face averted. He stooped his head to hers, and sheraised one hand as if in protest. Next moment I saw them springapart and turn hurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause of theinterruption. He was running wildly towards them, his absurd netdangling behind him. He gesticulated and almost danced withexcitement in front of the lovers. What the scene meant I couldnot imagine, but it seemed to me that Stapleton was abusing SirHenry, who offered explanations, which became more angry asthe other refused to accept them. The lady stood by in haughtysilence. Finally Stapleton turned upon his heel and beckoned in aperemptory way to his sister, who, after an irresolute glance atSir Henry, walked off by the side of her brother. The naturalist'sangry gestures showed that the lady was included in his displeasure. The baronet stood for a minute looking after them, andthen he walked slowly back the way that he had come, his headhanging, the very picture of dejection.

What all this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeplyashamed to have witnessed so intimate a scene without myfriend's knowledge. I ran down the hill therefore and met thebaronet at the bottom. His face was flushed with anger and hisbrows were wrinkled, like one who is at his wit's ends what todo.

"Halloa, Watson! Where have you dropped from?" said he."You don't mean to say that you came after me in spite of all?"

I explained everything to him: how I had found it impossibleto remain behind, how I had followed him, and how I hadwitnessed all that had occurred. For an instant his eyes blazed atme, but my frankness disarmed his anger, and he broke at lastinto a rather rueful laugh.

"You would have thought the middle of that prairie a fairlysafe place for a man to be private," said he, "but, by thunder,the whole countryside seems to have been out to see me do mywooing -- and a mighty poor wooing at that! Where had youengaged a seat?"

"I was on that hill."

"Quite in the back row, eh? But her brother was well up tothe front. Did you see him come out on us?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did he ever strike you as being crazy -- this brother of hers?"

"I can't say that he ever did."

"I dare say not. I always thought him sane enough untilto-day, but you can take it from me that either he or I ought to bein a straitjacket. What's the matter with me, anyhow? You'velived near me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Isthere anything that would prevent me from making a goodhusband to a woman that I loved?"

"I should say not."

"He can't object to my worldly position, so it must be myselfthat he has this down on. What has he against me? I never hurtman or woman in my life that I know of. And yet he would notso much as let me touch the tips of her fingers."

"Did he say so?"

"That, and a deal more. I tell you, Watson, I've only knownher these few weeks, but from the first I just felt that she wasmade for me, and she, too -- she was happy when she was withme, and that I'll swear. There's a light in a woman's eyes thatspeaks louder than words. But he has never let us get togetherand it was only to-day for the first time that I saw a chance ofhaving a few words with her alone. She was glad to meet me,but when she did it was not love that she would talk about, andshe wouldn't have let me talk about it either if she could havestopped it. She kept coming back to it that this was a place ofdanger, and that she would never be happy until I had left it. Itold her that since I had seen her I was in no hurry to leave it,and that if she really wanted me to go, the only way to work itwas for her to arrange to go with me. With that I offered in asmany words to marry her, but before she could answer, downcame this brother of hers, running at us with a face on him like amadman. He was just white with rage, and those light eyes of hiswere blazing with fury. What was I doing with the lady? Howdared I offer her attentions which were distasteful to her? Did Ithink that because I was a baronet I could do what I liked? If hehad not been her brother I should have known better how toanswer him. As it was I told him that my feelings towards hissister were such as I was not ashamed of, and that I hoped thatshe might honour me by becoming my wife. That seemed tomake the matter no better, so then I lost my temper too, and Ianswered him rather more hotly than I should perhaps, considering that she was standing by. So it ended by his going off withher, as you saw, and here am I as badly puzzled a man as any inthis county. Just tell me what it all means, Watson, and I'll oweyou more than ever I can hope to pay."

I tried one or two explanations, but, indeed, I was completelypuzzled myself. Our friend's title, his fortune, his age, hischaracter, and his appearance are all in his favour, and I knownothing against him unless it be this dark fate which runs in hisfamily. That his advances should be rejected so brusquely without any reference to the lady's own wishes and that the ladyshould accept the situation without protest is very amazing.However, our conjectures were set at rest by a visit from Stapletonhimself that very afternoon. He had come to offer apologies forhis rudeness of the morning, and after a long private interviewwith Sir Henry in his study the upshot of their conversation wasthat the breach is quite healed, and that we are to dine at MerripitHouse next Friday as a sign of it.

"l don't say now that he isn't a crazy man," said Sir Henry"I can't forget the look in his eyes when he ran at me thismorning, but I must allow that no man could make a morehandsome apology than he has done."

"Did he give any explanation of his conduct?"

"His sister is everything in his life, he says. That is naturalenough, and I am glad that he should understand her value. Theyhave always been together, and according to his account he hasbeen a very lonely man with only her as a companion, so that thethought of losing her was really terrible to him. He had notunderstood, he said, that I was becoming attached to her, butwhen he saw with his own eyes that it was really so, and that shemight be taken away from him, it gave him such a shock that fora time he was not responsible for what he said or did. He wasvery sorry for all that had passed, and he recognized how foolishand how selfish it was that he should imagine that he could holda beautiful woman like his sister to himself for her whole life. Ifshe had to leave him he had rather it was to a neighbour likemyself than to anyone else. But in any case it was a blow to himand it would take him some time before he could prepare himselfto meet it. He would withdraw all opposition upon his part if Iwould promise for three months to let the matter rest and to becontent with cultivating the lady's friendship during that timewithout claiming her love. This I promised, and so the matterrests."

So there is one of our small mysteries cleared up. It issomething to have touched bottom anywhere in this bog in whichwe are floundering. We know now why Stapleton looked withdisfavour upon his sister's suitor -- even when that suitor was soeligible a one as Sir Henry. And now I pass on to another threadwhich I have extricated out of the tangled skein, the mystery ofthe sobs in the night, of the tear-stained face of Mrs. Barrymore,of the secret journey of the butler to the western lattice window.Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have notdisappointed you as an agent -- that you do not regret the confidence which you showed in me when you sent me down. Allthese things have by one night's work been thoroughly cleared.

I have said "by one night's work," but, in truth, it was bytwo nights' work, for on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat upwith Sir Henry in his rooms until nearly three o'clock in themorning, but no sound of any sort did we hear except thechiming clock upon the stairs. It was a most melancholy vigiland ended by each of us falling asleep in our chairs. Fortunatelywe were not discouraged, and we determined to try again. Thenext night we lowered the lamp and sat smoking cigaretteswithout making the least sound. It was incredible how slowly thehours crawled by, and yet we were helped through it by the samesort of patient interest which the hunter must feel as he watchesthe trap into which he hopes the game may wander. One struck,and two, and we had almost for the second time given it up indespair when in an instant we both sat bolt upright in our chairswith all our weary senses keenly on the alert once more. We hadheard the creak of a step in the passage.

Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in thedistance. Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set outin pursuit. Already our man had gone round the gallery and thecorridor was all in darkness. Softly we stole along untii we hadcome into the other wing. We were just in time to catch aglimpse of the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders roundedas he tiptoed down the passage. Then he passed through thesame door as before, and the light of the candle framed it in thedarkness and shot one single yellow beam across the gloom ofthe corridor. We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying everyplank before we dared to put our whole weight upon it. We hadtaken the precaution of leaving our boots behind us, but, evenso, the old boards snapped and creaked beneath our tread. Sometimes it seemed impossible that he should fail to hear our approach. However, the man is fortunately rather deaf, and he wasentirely preoccupied in that which he was doing. When at last wereached the door and peeped through we found him crouching atthe window, candle in hand, his white, intent face pressedagainst the pane, exactly as I had seen him two nights before.

We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is aman to whom the most direct way is always the most natural. Hewalked into the room, and as he did so Barrymore sprang upfrom the window with a sharp hiss of his breath and stood, lividand trembling, before us. His dark eyes, glaring out of the whitemask of his face, were full of horror and astonishment as hegazed from Sir Henry to me.

"What are you doing here, Barrymore?"

"Nothing, sir." His agitation was so great that he couldhardly speak, and the shadows sprang up and down from theshaking of his candle. "It was the window, sir. I go round atnight to see that they are fastened."

"On the second floor?"

"Yes, sir, all the windows."

"Look here, Barrymore," said Sir Henry sternly, "we havemade up our minds to have the truth out of you, so it will saveyou trouble to tell it sooner rather than later. Come, now! Nolies! What were you doing at that window??'

The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and he wrung hishands together like one who is in the last extremity of doubt andmisery.

"I was doing no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to thewindow."

"And why were you holding a candle to the window?"

"Don't ask me, Sir Henry -- don't ask me! I give you myword, sir, that it is not my secret, and that I cannot tell it. If itconcerned no one but myself I would not try to keep it fromyou."

A sudden idea occurred to me, and I took the candle from thetrembling hand of the butler.

"He must have been holding it as a signal," said I. "Let ussee if there is any answer." I held it as he had done, and staredout into the darkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern theblack bank of the trees and the lighter expanse of the moor, forthe moon was behind the clouds. And then I gave a cry ofexultation, for a tiny pin-point of yellow light had suddenlytransfixed the dark veil, and glowed steadily in the centre of theblack square framed by the window.

"There it is!" I cried.

"No, no, sir, it is nothing -- nothing at all!" the butler brokein; "I assure you, sir --"

"Move your light across the window, Watson!" cried thebaronet. "See, the other moves also! Now, you rascal, do youdeny that it is a signal? Come, speak up! Who is your confederate out yonder, and what is this conspiracy that is going on?"

The man's face became openly defiant.

"It is my business, and not yours. I will not tell."

"Then you leave my employment right away."

"Very good, sir. If I must I must."

"And you go in disgrace. By thunder, you may well beashamed of yourself. Your family has lived with mine for over ahundred years under this roof, and here I find you deep in somedark plot against me."

"No, no, sir; no, not against you!" It was a woman's voice,and Mrs. Barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than herhusband, was standing at the door. Her bulky figure in a shawland skirt might have been comic were it not for the intensity offeeling upon her face.

"We have to go, Eliza. This is the end of it. You can pack ourthings," said the butler.

"Oh, John, John, have I brought you to this? It is my doing,Sir Henry -- all mine. He has done nothing except for my sakeand because I asked him."

"Speak out, then! What does it mean?"

"My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot lethim perish at our very gates. The light is a signal to him thatfood is ready for him, and his light out yonder is to show thespot to which to bring it."

"Then your brother is --"

"The escaped convict, sir -- Selden, the criminal."

"That's the truth, sir," said Barrymore. "I said that it was notmy secret and that I could not tell it to you. But now you haveheard it, and you will see that if there was a plot it was notagainst you."

This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions atnight and the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both stared atthe woman in amazement. Was it possible that this stolidlyrespectable person was of the same blood as one of the mostnotorious criminals in the country?

"Yes, sir, my name was Selden, and he is my younger brother.We humoured him too much when he was a lad and gave him hisown way in everything until he came to think that the world wasmade for his pleasure, and that he could do what he liked in it.Then as he grew older he met wicked companions, and the devilentered into him until he broke my mother's heart and draggedour name in the dirt. From crime to crime he sank lower andlower until it is only the mercy of God which has snatched himfrom the scaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the littlecurly-headed boy that I had nursed and played with as an eldersister would. That was why he broke prison, sir. He knew that Iwas here and that we could not refuse to help him. When hedragged himself here one night, weary and starving, with thewarders hard at his heels, what could we do? We took him inand fed him and cared for him. Then you returned, sir, and mybrother thought he would be safer on the moor than anywhereelse until the hue and cry was over, so he lay in hiding there. Butevery second night we made sure if he was still there by puttinga light in the window, and if there was an answer my husbandtook out some bread and meat to him. Every day we hoped thathe was gone, but as long as he was there we could not deserthim. That is the whole truth, as I am an honest Christian womanand you will see that if there is blame in the matter it does not liewith my husband but with me, for whose sake he has done allthat he has."

The woman's words came with an intense earnestness whichcarried conviction with them.

"Is this true, Barrymore?"

"Yes, Sir Henry. Every word of it."

"Well, I cannot blame you for standing by your own wife.Forget what I have said. Go to your room, you two, and we shalltalk further about this matter in the morning."

When they were gone we looked out of the window again. SirHenry had flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in uponour faces. Far away in the black distance there still glowed thatone tiny point of yellow light.

"I wonder he dares," said Sir Henry.

"It may be so placed as to be only visible from here."

"Very likely. How far do you think it is?"

"Out by the Cleft Tor, I think."

"Not more than a mile or two off."

"Hardly that."

"Well, it cannot be far if Barrymore had to carry out the foodto it. And he is waiting, this villain, beside that candle. Bythunder, Watson, I am going out to take that man!"

The same thought had crossed my own mind. It was not as ifthe Barrymores had taken us into their confidence. Their secrethad been forced from them. The man was a danger to thecommunity, an unmitigated scoundrel for whom there was neither pity nor excuse. We were only doing our duty in taking thischance of putting him back where he could do no harm. With hisbrutal and violent nature, others would have to pay the price ifwe held our hands. Any night, for example, our neighbours theStapletons might be attacked by him, and it may have been thethought of this which made Sir Henry so keen upon the adventure.

"I will come," said I.

"Then get your revolver and put on your boots. The soonerwe start the better, as the fellow may put out his light and beoff."

In five minutes we were outside the door, starting upon ourexpedition. We hurried through the dark shrubbery, amid thedull moaning of the autumn wind and the rustle of the fallingleaves. The night air was heavy with the smell of damp anddecay. Now and again the moon peeped out for an instant, butclouds were driving over the face of the sky, and just as we cameout on the moor a thin rain began to fall. The light still burnedsteadily in front.

"Are you armed?" I asked.

"I have a hunting-crop."

"We must close in on him rapidly, for he is said to be adesperate fellow. We shall take him by surprise and have him atour mercy before he can resist."

"I say, Watson," said the baronet, "what would Holmes sayto this? How about that hour of darkness in which the power ofevil is exalted?"

As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of thevast gloom of the moor that strange cry which I had alreadyheard upon the borders of the great Grimpen Mire. It came withthe wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutterthen a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away.Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it,strident, wild, and menacing. The baronet caught my sleeve andhis face glimmered white through the darkness.

"My God, what's that, Watson?"

"I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor. I heard itonce before."

It died away, and an absolute silence closed in upon us. Westood straining our ears, but nothing came.

"Watson," said the baronet, "it was the cry of a hound."

My blood ran cold in my veins, for there was a break in hisvoice which told of the sudden horror which had seized him.

"What do they call this sound?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The folk on the countryside."

"Oh, they are ignorant people. Why should you mind whatthey call it?"

"Tell me, Watson. What do they say of it?"

I hesitated but could not escape the question.

"They say it is the cry of the Hound of the Baskervilles."

He groaned and was silent for a few moments.

"A hound it was," he said at last, "but it seemed to comefrom miles away, over yonder, I think."

"It was hard to say whence it came."

"It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't that the direction of thegreat Grimpen Mire?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, it was up there. Come now, Watson, didn't you thinkyourself that it was the cry of a hound? I am not a child. Youneed not fear to speak the truth."

"Stapleton was with me when I heard it last. He said that itmight be the calling of a strange bird."

"No, no, it was a hound. My God, can there be some truth inall these stories? Is it possible that I am really in danger from sodark a cause? You don't believe it, do you, Watson?"

"No, no."

"And yet it was one thing to laugh about it in London, and itis another to stand out here in the darkness of the moor and tohear such a cry as that. And my uncle! There was the footprint ofthe hound beside him as he lay. It all fits together. I don't thinkthat I am a coward, Watson, but that sound seemed to freeze myvery blood. Feel my hand!"

It was as cold as a block of marble.

"You'll be all right to-morrow."

"I don't think I'll get that cry out of my head. What do youadvise that we do now?"

"Shall we turn back?"

"No, by thunder; we have come out to get our man, and wewill do it. We after the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely asnot, after us. Come on! We'll see it through if all the fiends ofthe pit were loose upon the moor."

We stumbled slowly along in the darkness, with the blackloom of the craggy hills around us, and the yellow speck of lightburning steadily in front. There is nothing so deceptive as thedistance of a light upon a pitch-dark night, and sometimes theglimmer seemed to be far away upon the horizon and sometimesit might have been within a few yards of us. But at last we couldsee whence it came, and then we knew that we were indeed veryclose. A guttering candle was stuck in a crevice of the rockswhich flanked it on each side so as to keep the wind from it andalso to prevent it from being visible, save in the direction ofBaskerville Hall. A boulder of granite concealed our approach,and crouching behind it we gazed over it at the signal light. Itwas strange to see this single candle burning there in the middleof the moor, with no sign of life near it -- just the one straightyellow flame and the gleam of the rock on each side of it.

"What shall we do now?" whispered Sir Henry.

"Wait here. He must be near his light. Let us see if we canget a glimpse of him."

The words were hardly out of my mouth when we both sawhim. Over the rocks, in the crevice of which the candle burned,there was thrust out an evil yellow face, a terrible animal face,all seamed and scored with vile passions. Foul with mire, with abristling beard, and hung with matted hair, it might well havebelonged to one of those old savages who dwelt in the burrowson the hillsides. The light beneath him was reflected in his small,cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right and left through thedarkness like a crafty and savage animal who has heard the stepsof the hunters.

Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It may havebeen that Barrymore had some private signal which we hadneglected to give, or the fellow may have had some other reasonfor thinking that all was not well, but I could read his fears uponhis wicked face. Any instant he might dash out the light andvanish in the darkness. I sprang forward therefore, and Sir Henrydid the same. At the same moment the convict screamed out acurse at us and hurled a rock which splintered up against theboulder which had sheltered us. I caught one glimpse of hisshort, squat, strongly built figure as he sprang to his feet andturned to run. At the same moment by a lucky chance the moonbroke through the clouds. We rushed over the brow of the hill,and there was our man running with great speed down the otherside, springing over the stones in his way with the activity of amountain goat. A lucky long shot of my revolver might havecrippled him, but I had brought it only to defend myself ifattacked and not to shoot an unarmed man who was runningaway.

We were both swift runners and in fairly good training, but wesoon found that we had no chance of overtaking him. We sawhim for a long time in the moonlight until he was only a smallspeck moving swiftly among the boulders upon the side of adistant hill. We ran and ran until we were completely blown, butthe space between us grew ever wider. Finally we stopped andsat panting on two rocks, while we watched him disappearing inthe distance.

And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strangeand unexpected thing. We had risen from our rocks and wereturning to go home, having abandoned the hopeless chase. Themoon was low upon the right, and the jagged pinnacle of agranite tor stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc.There, outlined as black as an ebony statue on that shiningbackground, I saw the figure of a man upon the tor. Do not thinkthat it was a delusion, Holmes. I assure you that I have never inmy life seen anything more clearly. As far as I could judge, thefigure was that of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legs a littleseparated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as if he werebrooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granitewhich lay before him. He might have been the very spirit of thatterrible place. It was not the convict. This man was far from theplace where the latter had disappeared. Besides, he was a muchtaller man. With a cry of surprise I pointed him out to thebaronet, but in the instant during which I had turned to grasp hisarm the man was gone. There was the sharp pinnacle of granitestill cutting the lower edge of the moon, but its peak bore notrace of that silent and motionless figure.

I wished to go in that direction and to search the tor, but it wassome distance away. The baronet's nerves were still quiveringfrom that cry, which recalled the dark story of his family, and hewas not in the mood for fresh adventures. He had not seen thislonely man upon the tor and could not feel the thrill which hisstrange presence and his commanding attitude had given to me."A warder, no doubl," said he. "The moor has been thick withthem since this fellow escaped." Well, perhaps his explanationmay be the right one, but I should like to have some furtherproof of it. To-day we mean to communicate to the Princetownpeople where they should look for their missing man, but it ishard lines that we have not actually had the triumph of bringinghim back as our own prisoner. Such are the adventures of lastnight, and you must acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I havedone you very well in the matter of a report. Much of what I tellyou is no doubt quite irrelevant, but still I feel that it is best thatI should let you have all the facts and leave you to select foryourself those which will be of most service to you in helpingyou to your conclusilons. We are certainly making some progress. So far as the Barrymores go we have found the motive oftheir actions, and that has cleared up the situation very much.But the moor with its mysteries and its strange inhabitants remains as inscrutable as ever. Perhaps in my next I may be able tothrow some light upon this also. Best of all would it be if youcould come down to us. In any case you will hear from me againin the course of the next few days.