“I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down the

blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the

window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the road.”


“Pray continue,” said Holmes. “Your narrative promises to be

a most interesting one.”


“You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be

little relation between the different incidents of which I speak. On the very

first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small

outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the

sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving about.


“‘Look in here!’ said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit

between two planks. ‘Is he not a beauty?’


“I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague

figure huddled up in the darkness.


“‘Don’t be frightened,’ said my employer,

laughing at the start which I had given. ‘It’s only Carlo, my

mastiff. I call him mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who

can do anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so

that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and

God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness’ sake

don’t you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night,

for it’s as much as your life is worth.’


“The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out

of my bedroom window about two o’clock in the morning. It was a beautiful

moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was silvered over and

almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the

scene, when I was aware that something was moving under the shadow of the

copper beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It was a

giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle,