Chapter: Our breakfast table was cleared early, and Holmes waited in his
dressing-gown for the promised interview. Our clients were punctual to
their appointment, for the clock had just struck ten when Dr. Mortimer
was shown up, followed by the young baronet. The latter was a small,
alert, dark-eyed man about thirty years of age, very sturdily built,
with thick black eyebrows and a strong, pugnacious face. He wore a
ruddy-tinted tweed suit and had the weather-beaten appearance of one who
has spent most of his time in the open air, and yet there was something
in his steady eye and the quiet assurance of his bearing which indicated
the gentleman.

"This is Sir Henry Baskerville," said Dr. Mortimer.

"Why, yes," said he, "and the strange thing is, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
that if my friend here had not proposed coming round to you this morning
I should have come on my own account. I understand that you think out
little puzzles, and I've had one this morning which wants more thinking
out than I am able to give it."

"Pray take a seat, Sir Henry. Do I understand you to say that you have
yourself had some remarkable experience since you arrived in London?"

"Nothing of much importance, Mr. Holmes. Only a joke, as like as not.
It was this letter, if you can call it a letter, which reached me this
morning."

He laid an envelope upon the table, and we all bent over it. It was of
common quality, grayish in colour. The address, "Sir Henry Baskerville,
Northumberland Hotel," was printed in rough characters; the post-mark
"Charing Cross," and the date of posting the preceding evening.

"Who knew that you were going to the Northumberland Hotel?" asked
Holmes, glancing keenly across at our visitor.

"No one could have known. We only decided after I met Dr. Mortimer."

"But Dr. Mortimer was no doubt already stopping there?"

"No, I had been staying with a friend," said the doctor.

"There was no possible indication that we intended to go to this hotel."

"Hum! Someone seems to be very deeply interested in your movements." Out
of the envelope he took a half-sheet of foolscap paper folded into four.
This he opened and spread flat upon the table. Across the middle of it
a single sentence had been formed by the expedient of pasting printed
words upon it. It ran:

        As you value your life or your reason keep away from the moor.

The word "moor" only was printed in ink.

"Now," said Sir Henry Baskerville, "perhaps you will tell me, Mr.
Holmes, what in thunder is the meaning of that, and who it is that takes
so much interest in my affairs?"

"What do you make of it, Dr. Mortimer? You must allow that there is
nothing supernatural about this, at any rate?"

"No, sir, but it might very well come from someone who was convinced
that the business is supernatural."

"What business?" asked Sir Henry sharply. "It seems to me that all you
gentlemen know a great deal more than I do about my own affairs."

"You shall share our knowledge before you leave this room, Sir Henry. I
promise you that," said Sherlock Holmes. "We will confine ourselves
for the present with your permission to this very interesting document,
which must have been put together and posted yesterday evening. Have you
yesterday's Times, Watson?"

"It is here in the corner."

"Might I trouble you for it--the inside page, please, with the leading
articles?" He glanced swiftly over it, running his eyes up and down the
columns. "Capital article this on free trade. Permit me to give you an
extract from it.

     'You may be cajoled into imagining that your own special
     trade or your own industry will be encouraged by a
     protective tariff, but it stands to reason that such
     legislation must in the long run keep away wealth from the
     country, diminish the value of our imports, and lower the
     general conditions of life in this island.'

"What do you think of that, Watson?" cried Holmes in high glee, rubbing
his hands together with satisfaction. "Don't you think that is an
admirable sentiment?"

Dr. Mortimer looked at Holmes with an air of professional interest, and
Sir Henry Baskerville turned a pair of puzzled dark eyes upon me.

"I don't know much about the tariff and things of that kind," said he,
"but it seems to me we've got a bit off the trail so far as that note is
concerned."

"On the contrary, I think we are particularly hot upon the trail, Sir
Henry. Watson here knows more about my methods than you do, but I fear
that even he has not quite grasped the significance of this sentence."

"No, I confess that I see no connection."

"And yet, my dear Watson, there is so very close a connection that
the one is extracted out of the other. 'You,' 'your,' 'your,' 'life,'
'reason,' 'value,' 'keep away,' 'from the.' Don't you see now whence
these words have been taken?"

"By thunder, you're right! Well, if that isn't smart!" cried Sir Henry.

"If any possible doubt remained it is settled by the fact that 'keep
away' and 'from the' are cut out in one piece."

"Well, now--so it is!"

"Really, Mr. Holmes, this exceeds anything which I could have imagined,"
said Dr. Mortimer, gazing at my friend in amazement. "I could understand
anyone saying that the words were from a newspaper; but that you should
name which, and add that it came from the leading article, is really one
of the most remarkable things which I have ever known. How did you do
it?"

"I presume, Doctor, that you could tell the skull of a negro from that
of an Esquimau?"

"Most certainly."

"But how?"

"Because that is my special hobby. The differences are obvious. The
supra-orbital crest, the facial angle, the maxillary curve, the--"

"But this is my special hobby, and the differences are equally obvious.
There is as much difference to my eyes between the leaded bourgeois type
of a Times article and the slovenly print of an evening half-penny paper
as there could be between your negro and your Esquimau. The detection of
types is one of the most elementary branches of knowledge to the special
expert in crime, though I confess that once when I was very young I
confused the Leeds Mercury with the Western Morning News. But a Times
leader is entirely distinctive, and these words could have been taken
from nothing else. As it was done yesterday the strong probability was
that we should find the words in yesterday's issue."

"So far as I can follow you, then, Mr. Holmes," said Sir Henry
Baskerville, "someone cut out this message with a scissors--"

"Nail-scissors," said Holmes. "You can see that it was a very
short-bladed scissors, since the cutter had to take two snips over 'keep
away.'"

"That is so. Someone, then, cut out the message with a pair of
short-bladed scissors, pasted it with paste--"

"Gum," said Holmes.

"With gum on to the paper. But I want to know why the word 'moor' should
have been written?"

"Because he could not find it in print. The other words were all simple
and might be found in any issue, but 'moor' would be less common."

"Why, of course, that would explain it. Have you read anything else in
this message, Mr. Holmes?"

"There are one or two indications, and yet the utmost pains have been
taken to remove all clues. The address, you observe is printed in rough
characters. But the Times is a paper which is seldom found in any hands
but those of the highly educated. We may take it, therefore, that
the letter was composed by an educated man who wished to pose as an
uneducated one, and his effort to conceal his own writing suggests that
that writing might be known, or come to be known, by you. Again, you
will observe that the words are not gummed on in an accurate line, but
that some are much higher than others. 'Life,' for example is quite out
of its proper place. That may point to carelessness or it may point to
agitation and hurry upon the part of the cutter. On the whole I incline
to the latter view, since the matter was evidently important, and it
is unlikely that the composer of such a letter would be careless. If he
were in a hurry it opens up the interesting question why he should be
in a hurry, since any letter posted up to early morning would reach
Sir Henry before he would leave his hotel. Did the composer fear an
interruption--and from whom?"

"We are coming now rather into the region of guesswork," said Dr.
Mortimer.

"Say, rather, into the region where we balance probabilities and choose
the most likely. It is the scientific use of the imagination, but we
have always some material basis on which to start our speculation. Now,
you would call it a guess, no doubt, but I am almost certain that this
address has been written in a hotel."

"How in the world can you say that?"

"If you examine it carefully you will see that both the pen and the ink
have given the writer trouble. The pen has spluttered twice in a single
word and has run dry three times in a short address, showing that there
was very little ink in the bottle. Now, a private pen or ink-bottle is
seldom allowed to be in such a state, and the combination of the two
must be quite rare. But you know the hotel ink and the hotel pen, where
it is rare to get anything else. Yes, I have very little hesitation
in saying that could we examine the waste-paper baskets of the hotels
around Charing Cross until we found the remains of the mutilated Times
leader we could lay our hands straight upon the person who sent this
singular message. Halloa! Halloa! What's this?"

He was carefully examining the foolscap, upon which the words were
pasted, holding it only an inch or two from his eyes.

"Well?"

"Nothing," said he, throwing it down. "It is a blank half-sheet of
paper, without even a water-mark upon it. I think we have drawn as much
as we can from this curious letter; and now, Sir Henry, has anything
else of interest happened to you since you have been in London?"

"Why, no, Mr. Holmes. I think not."

"You have not observed anyone follow or watch you?"

"I seem to have walked right into the thick of a dime novel," said our
visitor. "Why in thunder should anyone follow or watch me?"

"We are coming to that. You have nothing else to report to us before we
go into this matter?"

"Well, it depends upon what you think worth reporting."

"I think anything out of the ordinary routine of life well worth
reporting."

Sir Henry smiled. "I don't know much of British life yet, for I have
spent nearly all my time in the States and in Canada. But I hope that to
lose one of your boots is not part of the ordinary routine of life over
here."

"You have lost one of your boots?"

"My dear sir," cried Dr. Mortimer, "it is only mislaid. You will find
it when you return to the hotel. What is the use of troubling Mr. Holmes
with trifles of this kind?"

"Well, he asked me for anything outside the ordinary routine."

"Exactly," said Holmes, "however foolish the incident may seem. You have
lost one of your boots, you say?"

"Well, mislaid it, anyhow. I put them both outside my door last night,
and there was only one in the morning. I could get no sense out of the
chap who cleans them. The worst of it is that I only bought the pair
last night in the Strand, and I have never had them on."

"If you have never worn them, why did you put them out to be cleaned?"

"They were tan boots and had never been varnished. That was why I put
them out."

"Then I understand that on your arrival in London yesterday you went out
at once and bought a pair of boots?"

"I did a good deal of shopping. Dr. Mortimer here went round with me.
You see, if I am to be squire down there I must dress the part, and
it may be that I have got a little careless in my ways out West. Among
other things I bought these brown boots--gave six dollars for them--and
had one stolen before ever I had them on my feet."

"It seems a singularly useless thing to steal," said Sherlock Holmes.
"I confess that I share Dr. Mortimer's belief that it will not be long
before the missing boot is found."

"And, now, gentlemen," said the baronet with decision, "it seems to me
that I have spoken quite enough about the little that I know. It is time
that you kept your promise and gave me a full account of what we are all
driving at."

"Your request is a very reasonable one," Holmes answered. "Dr. Mortimer,
I think you could not do better than to tell your story as you told it
to us."

Thus encouraged, our scientific friend drew his papers from his pocket
and presented the whole case as he had done upon the morning before.
Sir Henry Baskerville listened with the deepest attention and with an
occasional exclamation of surprise.

"Well, I seem to have come into an inheritance with a vengeance," said
he when the long narrative was finished. "Of course, I've heard of the
hound ever since I was in the nursery. It's the pet story of the family,
though I never thought of taking it seriously before. But as to my
uncle's death--well, it all seems boiling up in my head, and I can't
get it clear yet. You don't seem quite to have made up your mind whether
it's a case for a policeman or a clergyman."

"Precisely."

"And now there's this affair of the letter to me at the hotel. I suppose
that fits into its place."

"It seems to show that someone knows more than we do about what goes on
upon the moor," said Dr. Mortimer.

"And also," said Holmes, "that someone is not ill-disposed towards you,
since they warn you of danger."

"Or it may be that they wish, for their own purposes, to scare me away."

"Well, of course, that is possible also. I am very much indebted to you,
Dr. Mortimer, for introducing me to a problem which presents several
interesting alternatives. But the practical point which we now have to
decide, Sir Henry, is whether it is or is not advisable for you to go to
Baskerville Hall."

"Why should I not go?"

"There seems to be danger."

"Do you mean danger from this family fiend or do you mean danger from
human beings?"

"Well, that is what we have to find out."

"Whichever it is, my answer is fixed. There is no devil in hell, Mr.
Holmes, and there is no man upon earth who can prevent me from going to
the home of my own people, and you may take that to be my final answer."
His dark brows knitted and his face flushed to a dusky red as he spoke.
It was evident that the fiery temper of the Baskervilles was not extinct
in this their last representative. "Meanwhile," said he, "I have hardly
had time to think over all that you have told me. It's a big thing for a
man to have to understand and to decide at one sitting. I should like
to have a quiet hour by myself to make up my mind. Now, look here, Mr.
Holmes, it's half-past eleven now and I am going back right away to my
hotel. Suppose you and your friend, Dr. Watson, come round and lunch
with us at two. I'll be able to tell you more clearly then how this
thing strikes me."

"Is that convenient to you, Watson?"

"Perfectly."

"Then you may expect us. Shall I have a cab called?"

"I'd prefer to walk, for this affair has flurried me rather."

"I'll join you in a walk, with pleasure," said his companion.

"Then we meet again at two o'clock. Au revoir, and good-morning!"

We heard the steps of our visitors descend the stair and the bang of the
front door. In an instant Holmes had changed from the languid dreamer to
the man of action.

"Your hat and boots, Watson, quick! Not a moment to lose!" He rushed
into his room in his dressing-gown and was back again in a few seconds
in a frock-coat. We hurried together down the stairs and into the
street. Dr. Mortimer and Baskerville were still visible about two
hundred yards ahead of us in the direction of Oxford Street.

"Shall I run on and stop them?"

"Not for the world, my dear Watson. I am perfectly satisfied with your
company if you will tolerate mine. Our friends are wise, for it is
certainly a very fine morning for a walk."

He quickened his pace until we had decreased the distance which divided
us by about half. Then, still keeping a hundred yards behind, we
followed into Oxford Street and so down Regent Street. Once our friends
stopped and stared into a shop window, upon which Holmes did the
same. An instant afterwards he gave a little cry of satisfaction, and,
following the direction of his eager eyes, I saw that a hansom cab with
a man inside which had halted on the other side of the street was now
proceeding slowly onward again.


"There's our man, Watson! Come along! We'll have a good look at him, if
we can do no more."

At that instant I was aware of a bushy black beard and a pair of
piercing eyes turned upon us through the side window of the cab.
Instantly the trapdoor at the top flew up, something was screamed to
the driver, and the cab flew madly off down Regent Street. Holmes looked
eagerly round for another, but no empty one was in sight. Then he dashed
in wild pursuit amid the stream of the traffic, but the start was too
great, and already the cab was out of sight.

"There now!" said Holmes bitterly as he emerged panting and white with
vexation from the tide of vehicles. "Was ever such bad luck and such
bad management, too? Watson, Watson, if you are an honest man you will
record this also and set it against my successes!"

"Who was the man?"

"I have not an idea."

"A spy?"

"Well, it was evident from what we have heard that Baskerville has been
very closely shadowed by someone since he has been in town. How else
could it be known so quickly that it was the Northumberland Hotel which
he had chosen? If they had followed him the first day I argued that they
would follow him also the second. You may have observed that I twice
strolled over to the window while Dr. Mortimer was reading his legend."

"Yes, I remember."

"I was looking out for loiterers in the street, but I saw none. We
are dealing with a clever man, Watson. This matter cuts very deep, and
though I have not finally made up my mind whether it is a benevolent or
a malevolent agency which is in touch with us, I am conscious always of
power and design. When our friends left I at once followed them in the
hopes of marking down their invisible attendant. So wily was he that he
had not trusted himself upon foot, but he had availed himself of a cab
so that he could loiter behind or dash past them and so escape their
notice. His method had the additional advantage that if they were to
take a cab he was all ready to follow them. It has, however, one obvious
disadvantage."

"It puts him in the power of the cabman."

"Exactly."

"What a pity we did not get the number!"

"My dear Watson, clumsy as I have been, you surely do not seriously
imagine that I neglected to get the number? No. 2704 is our man. But
that is no use to us for the moment."

"I fail to see how you could have done more."

"On observing the cab I should have instantly turned and walked in the
other direction. I should then at my leisure have hired a second cab
and followed the first at a respectful distance, or, better still, have
driven to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there. When our unknown
had followed Baskerville home we should have had the opportunity of
playing his own game upon himself and seeing where he made for. As
it is, by an indiscreet eagerness, which was taken advantage of with
extraordinary quickness and energy by our opponent, we have betrayed
ourselves and lost our man."

We had been sauntering slowly down Regent Street during this
conversation, and Dr. Mortimer, with his companion, had long vanished in
front of us.

"There is no object in our following them," said Holmes. "The shadow has
departed and will not return. We must see what further cards we have
in our hands and play them with decision. Could you swear to that man's
face within the cab?"

"I could swear only to the beard."

"And so could I--from which I gather that in all probability it was
a false one. A clever man upon so delicate an errand has no use for a
beard save to conceal his features. Come in here, Watson!"

He turned into one of the district messenger offices, where he was
warmly greeted by the manager.

"Ah, Wilson, I see you have not forgotten the little case in which I had
the good fortune to help you?"

"No, sir, indeed I have not. You saved my good name, and perhaps my
life."

"My dear fellow, you exaggerate. I have some recollection, Wilson, that
you had among your boys a lad named Cartwright, who showed some ability
during the investigation."

"Yes, sir, he is still with us."

"Could you ring him up?--thank you! And I should be glad to have change
of this five-pound note."

A lad of fourteen, with a bright, keen face, had obeyed the summons
of the manager. He stood now gazing with great reverence at the famous
detective.

"Let me have the Hotel Directory," said Holmes. "Thank you! Now,
Cartwright, there are the names of twenty-three hotels here, all in the
immediate neighbourhood of Charing Cross. Do you see?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will visit each of these in turn."

"Yes, sir."

"You will begin in each case by giving the outside porter one shilling.
Here are twenty-three shillings."

"Yes, sir."

"You will tell him that you want to see the waste-paper of yesterday.
You will say that an important telegram has miscarried and that you are
looking for it. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"But what you are really looking for is the centre page of the Times
with some holes cut in it with scissors. Here is a copy of the Times. It
is this page. You could easily recognize it, could you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"In each case the outside porter will send for the hall porter, to whom
also you will give a shilling. Here are twenty-three shillings. You will
then learn in possibly twenty cases out of the twenty-three that the
waste of the day before has been burned or removed. In the three other
cases you will be shown a heap of paper and you will look for this page
of the Times among it. The odds are enormously against your finding
it. There are ten shillings over in case of emergencies. Let me have a
report by wire at Baker Street before evening. And now, Watson, it only
remains for us to find out by wire the identity of the cabman, No. 2704,
and then we will drop into one of the Bond Street picture galleries and
fill in the time until we are due at the hotel."

 At exactly ten the next morning, Dr. Mortimer shows up with Sir Henry Baskerville. Sir Henry is a smart-looking guy of around thirty. He's glad to meet Holmes because he's had a weird experience he wants to discuss. Even though it's not public knowledge where he's staying in London, he received an anonymous note at his hotel that morning. The note says, "As you value your life or your reason keep away from the moor" . Holmes figures out that the words from the note were cut out of the Times . Holmes also deduces that the person who left the note is an educated person who wanted to appear working-class, and who was in a huge hurry. Sir Henry has one other weird incident to report: one of his shoes has gone missing. He bought a pair of new brown boots yesterday, and one of them has disappeared. Holmes can't think why anyone would steal one brown boot, so he assumes the boot will turn up again. Holmes tells Sir Henry all about the Hound and Sir Charles' sudden and mysterious death. Sir Henry's heard the story of the Hound since he was a kid, but he doesn't buy it. He's not going to let some dog keep him away from the property that is rightfully his. Still, Sir Henry wants some time to think over what Holmes has told him. So he invites Holmes and Watson over to his hotel for lunch. Until then, he's going to wander around and think things over with Dr. Mortimer. Holmes watches Sir Henry and Dr. Mortimer leave the apartment. Then, he grabs Watson and rushes out the door. As Holmes and Watson follow Sir Henry at a distance, they spot another man tailing him in a cab. The man has a thick beard and piercing eyes. But as soon as Holmes sees the man, the man yells at the cabdriver to drive on. Holmes is impressed at the smarts of their opponent. He's also annoyed with himself for making it so obvious that he was following Sir Henry. So Holmes tries a new Clever Plan: he pays a local messenger boy to visit all the major hotels in London. He wants the kid to go through the trash to try to find copy of yesterday's Times with words cut out of the lead article. Holmes and Watson go off to spend a few hours at art galleries before meeting Sir Henry.

