Sir Henry Baskerville

           Ourbreakfast-tablewasclearedearly,andHolmeswaitedinhisdressing-gownforthepromisedinterview. Ourclientswerepunctualtotheirappointment,fortheclockhadjuststrucktenwhenDr.Mortimerwasshownup,followedbytheyoungbaronet. Thelatterwasasmall,alert,dark-eyedmanaboutthirtyyearsofage,verysturdilybuilt,withthickblackeyebrowsandastrong,pugnaciousface. Heworearuddy-tintedtweedsuitandhadtheweather-beatenappearanceofonewhohasspentmostofhistimeintheopenair, andyettherewassomethinginhissteadyeyeandthequietassuranceofhisbearingwhichindicatedthegentleman. 

           "ThisisSirHenryBaskerville,"saidDr.Mortimer. 

           "Why,yes,"saidhe,"andthestrangethingis,Mr.SherlockHolmes,thatifmyfriendherehadnotproposedcomingroundtoyouthismorningIshouldhavecomeonmyownaccount. Iunderstandthatyouthinkoutlittlepuzzles,andI’vehadonethismorningwhichwantsmorethinkingoutthanIamabletogiveit." 

           "Praytakeaseat,SirHenry. DoIunderstandyoutosaythatyouhaveyourselfhadsomeremarkableexperiencesinceyouarrivedinLondon?" 

           "Nothingofmuchimportance,Mr.Holmes. Onlyajoke,aslikeasnot. Itwasthisletter,ifyoucancallitaletter,whichreachedmethismorning." 

           Helaidanenvelopeuponthetable,andweallbentoverit. Itwasofcommonquality,grayishincolour.