The Hound of the Baskervilles | Page 6

am addressing and not
------"
"No, this is my friend Dr. Watson."
"Glad to meet you, sir. I have heard your name mentioned in connection with that of your
friend. You interest me very much, Mr. Holmes. I had hardly expected so dolichocephalic
a skull or such well-marked supra-orbital development. Would you have any objection to
my running my finger along your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull, sir, until the
original is available, would be an ornament to any anthropological museum. It is not my
intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull."
Sherlock Holmes waved our strange visitor into a chair. "You are an enthusiast in your
line of thought, I perceive, sir, as I am in mine," said he. "I observe from your forefinger
that you make your own cigarettes. Have no hesitation in lighting one."
The man drew out paper and tobacco and twirled the one up in the other with surprising
dexterity. He had long, quivering fingers as agile and restless as the antennae of an insect.
Holmes was silent, but his little darting glances showed me the interest which he took in

our curious companion.
"I presume, sir," said he at last, "that it was not merely for the purpose of examining my
skull that you have done me the honour to call here last night and again to-day?"
"No, sir, no; though I am happy to have had the opportunity of doing that as well. I came
to you, Mr. Holmes, because I recognized that I am myself an unpractical man and
because I am suddenly confronted with a most serious and extraordinary problem.
Recognizing, as I do, that you are the second highest expert in Europe ------"
"Indeed, sir! May I inquire who has the honour to be the first?" asked Holmes with some
asperity.
"To the man of precisely scientific mind the work of Monsieur Bertillon must always
appeal strongly."
"Then had you not better consult him?"
"I said, sir, to the precisely scientific mind. But as a practical man of affairs it is
acknowledged that you stand alone. I trust, sir, that I have not inadvertently ------"
"Just a little," said Holmes. "I think, Dr. Mortimer, you would do wisely if without more
ado you would kindly tell me plainly what the exact nature of the problem is in which
you demand my assistance."




Chapter 2
The Curse of the Baskervilles

"I have in my pocket a manuscript," said Dr. James Mortimer.
"I observed it as you entered the room," said Holmes.
"It is an old manuscript."
"Early eighteenth century, unless it is a forgery."
"How can you say that, sir?"

"You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination all the time that you have
been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of a document within
a decade or so. You may possibly have read my little monograph upon the subject. I put
that at 1730."
"The exact date is 1742." Dr. Mortimer drew it from his breast-pocket. "This family
paper was committed to my care by Sir Charles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic
death some three months ago created so much excitement in Devonshire. I may say that I
was his personal friend as well as his medical attendant. He was a strong-minded man, sir,
shrewd, practical, and as unimaginative as I am myself. Yet he took this document very
seriously, and his mind was prepared for just such an end as did eventually overtake
him."
Holmes stretched out his hand for the manuscript and flattened it upon his knee.
"You will observe, Watson, the alternative use of the long s and the short. It is one of
several indications which enabled me to fix the date."
I looked over his shoulder at the yellow paper and the faded script. At the head was
written: "Baskerville Hall," and below in large, scrawling figures: "1742."
"It appears to be a statement of some sort."
"Yes, it is a statement of a certain legend which runs in the Baskerville family."
"But I understand that it is something more modern and practical upon which you wish to
consult me?"
"Most modern. A most practical, pressing matter, which must be decided within
twenty-four hours. But the manuscript is short and is intimately connected with the affair.
With your permission I will read it to you."
Holmes leaned back in his chair, placed his finger-tips together, and closed his eyes, with
an air of resignation. Dr. Mortimer turned the manuscript to the light and read in a high,
cracking voice the following curious, old-world narrative:--
"Of the origin of the Hound of the Baskervilles there have been many statements, yet as I
come in a