Собака Баскервіллів
Death on the Moor
Savefromwhatweheard,wecannotevensweartotheexistenceofthelatter,sinceSirHenryhasevidentlydiedfromthefall. But,byheavens,cunningasheis,thefellowshallbeinmypowerbeforeanotherdayispast!"
Westoodwithbitterheartsoneithersideofthemangledbody,overwhelmedbythissuddenandirrevocabledisasterwhichhadbroughtallourlongandwearylabourstosopiteousanend. Then,asthemoonroseweclimbedtothetopoftherocksoverwhichourpoorfriendhadfallen,andfromthesummitwegazedoutovertheshadowymoor,halfsilverandhalfgloom. Faraway,milesoff,inthedirectionofGrimpen,asinglesteadyyellowlightwasshining. ItcouldonlycomefromthelonelyabodeoftheStapletons. WithabittercurseIshookmyfistatitasIgazed.
"Whyshouldwenotseizehimatonce?"
"Ourcaseisnotcomplete. Thefellowiswaryandcunningtothelastdegree. Itisnotwhatweknow,butwhatwecanprove. Ifwemakeonefalsemovethevillainmayescapeusyet."
"Whatcanwedo?"
"Therewillbeplentyforustodoto-morrow. To-nightwecanonlyperformthelastofficestoourpoorfriend."
Togetherwemadeourwaydowntheprecipitousslopeandapproachedthebody,blackandclearagainstthesilveredstones. Theagonyofthosecontortedlimbsstruckmewithaspasmofpainandblurredmyeyeswithtears.
"Wemustsendforhelp,Holmes! WecannotcarryhimallthewaytotheHall. Goodheavens,areyoumad?"
