歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生坐在桌旁早餐，他除了时常彻夜不眠之外，早晨总是起得很晚 的。我站在壁炉前的小地毯上，拿起了昨晚那位客人遗忘的手杖。这是一根很精致而又沉重 的手杖，顶端有个疙疸；这种木料产于槟榔屿，名叫槟榔子木。紧挨顶端的下面是一圈很宽 的银箍，宽度约有一英寸。上刻“送给皇家外科医学院学士杰姆士·摩梯末， Ｃ．Ｃ．Ｈ．的朋友们赠”，还刻有“一八八四年”。这不过是一根旧式的私人医生所常用 的那种既庄重、坚固而又实用的手杖。
“啊，华生，你对它的看法怎么样？”
福尔摩斯正背对着我坐在那里，我原以为我摆弄手杖的事并没有叫他发觉呢。
“你怎么知道我在干什么呢？我想你的后脑勺儿上一定长了眼睛了吧。”
“至少我的眼前放着一把擦得很亮的镀银咖啡壶。”他说，“可是，华生，告诉我，你 对咱们这位客人的手杖怎样看呢？
遗憾的是咱们没有遇到他，对他此来的目的也一无所知，因此，这件意外的纪念品就变 得更重要了。在你把它仔细地察看过以后，把这个人给我形容一番吧。”
“我想，”我尽量沿用着我这位伙伴的推理方法说，“从认识他的人们送给他这件用来 表示敬意的纪念品来看，摩梯末医生是一位功成名就、年岁较大的医学界人士，并且很受人 尊敬。”
“好哇！”福尔摩斯说：“好极了！”
“我还认为，他很可能是一位在乡村行医的医生，出诊时多半是步行的。”
“为什么呢？”
“因为这根手杖原来虽很漂亮，可是，已经磕碰得很厉害了，很难想象一位在城里行医 的医生还肯拿着它。下端所装的厚铁包头已经磨损得很厉害了，因此，显然他曾用它走过很 多的路。”
“完全正确！”福尔摩斯说。
“还有，那上面刻着‘Ｃ．Ｃ．Ｈ．的朋友们’，据我猜想，所指的大概是个猎人会 ［因为猎人（Ｈｕｎｔｅｒ）一词的头一个字母是Ｈ，所以华生推想Ｃ．Ｃ．Ｈ．可能是个 什么猎人会组织名称的缩写字。——译者注］；他可能曾经给当地的这个猎人会的会员们作 过一些外科治疗，因此，他们才送了他这件小礼物表示酬谢。”
“华生，你真是大有长进了，”福尔摩斯一面说着，一面把椅子向后推了推，并点了支 纸烟，“我不能不说，在你热心地为我那些微小的成就所作的一切记载里面，你已经习惯于 低估自己的能力了。也许你本身并不能发光，但是，你是光的传导者。有些人本身没有天 才，可是有着可观的激发天才的力量。我承认，亲爱的伙伴，我真是太感激你了。”
他以前从来没有讲过这么多的话，不可否认，他的话给了我极大的快乐。因为过去他对 于我对他的钦佩和企图将他的推理方法公诸于众所作的努力，常是报以漠然视之的态度，这 样很伤我的自尊心。而现在我居然也能掌握了他的方法，并且实际应用起来，还得到了他的 赞许，想起这点我就感到很骄傲。现在他从我手中把手杖拿了过去，用眼睛审视了几分钟， 然后带着一副很感兴趣的神情放下了纸烟，把手杖拿到窗前又用放大镜仔细察看起来。
“虽很简单，但还有趣，”他说着就重新在他所最喜欢的那只长椅的一端坐下了，“手 杖上确实有一两处能够说明问题。它给我们的推论提供了根据。”
“我还漏掉了什么东西吗？”我有些自负地问道，“我相信我没有把重大的地方忽略 掉。”
“亲爱的华生，恐怕你的结论大部分都是错误的呢！坦白地说吧，当我说你激发了我的 时候，我的意思是说：在我指出你谬误之处的同时，往往就把我引向了真理。但并不是说这 一次你完全错误了。那个人肯定是一位在乡村行医的医生，而且他确是常常步行的。”
“那么说，我的猜测就是对的了。”
“也只是到这个程度而已。”
“但是，那就是全部事实了。”
“不，不，亲爱的华生，并非全部——决不是全部。譬如说，我倒愿意提出，送给这位 医生的这件礼物，与其说是来自猎人会，倒不如说是来自一家医院；由于两个字头 ‘Ｃ．Ｃ．’是放在‘医院’一词（在英文中，医院一词的字头也是Ｈ）之前的。因此，很 自然的使人想起了ＣｈａｒｉｎｇＣｒｏｓｓ这两个字来。”
“也许是你对了。”
“很可能是这样的。如果咱们拿这一点当作有效的假设的话，那我们就又有了一个新的 根据了。由这个根据出发，就能对这位未知的来客进行描绘了。”
“好吧！假设‘Ｃ．Ｃ．Ｈ．’所指的就是查林十字医院，那么我们究竟能得出什么进 一步的结论呢？”
“难道就没有一点能够说明问题的地方了吗？既然懂得了我的方法，那么就应用吧！”
“我只能想出一个明显的结论来，那个人在下乡之前曾在城里行过医。”
“我想咱们可以大胆地比这更前进一步，从这样的角度来看，最可能是在什么样的情况 下，才会发生这样的赠礼的行动呢？在什么时候，他的朋友们才会联合起来向他表示他们的 好意呢？显然是在摩梯末为了自行开业而离开医院的时候。
我们知道有过一次赠礼的事；我们相信他曾从一家城市医院转到乡村去行医。那么咱们 下结论，说这礼物是在这个转换的当儿送的不算过分吧。”
“看来当然是可能的。”
“现在，你可以看得出来，他不会是主要医师，因为只有当一个人在伦敦行医已有了相 当名望的时候，才能据有这样的地位，而这样的一个人就不会迁往乡村去了。那么，他究竟 是个做什么的呢？如果说他是在医院里工作而又不算在主要医师之列，那么他就只可能是个 住院外科医生或者是住院内科医生——地位稍稍高于医学院最高年级的学生；而他是在五年 以前离开的——日期是刻在手杖上的，因此你的那位严肃的、中年的医生就化为乌有了。亲 爱的华生，可是这里出现了一位青年人，不到三十岁，和蔼可亲、安于现状、马马虎虎，他 还有一只心爱的狗，我可以大略地把它形容成比狸犬大，比獒犬小。”
我不相信地笑了起来。歇洛克·福尔摩斯向后靠在长椅上，向天花板上吐着飘荡不定的 小烟圈。
“至于后一部份，我无法检查你是否正确，”我说，“但是要想找出几个有关他的年龄 和履历的特点来，至少是不怎么困难的。”我从我那小小的放医学书籍的书架上拿下一本医 药手册来，翻到人名栏的地方。里面有好几个姓摩梯末的，但只有一个可能是我们的来客。 我高声地读出了这段记载：
“杰姆士·摩梯末，一八八二年毕业于皇家外科医学院，德文郡达特沼地格林盆人。一 八八二至一八八四年在查林十字医院任住院外科医生。因著文《疾病是否隔代遗传》而获得 杰克逊比较病理学奖金。瑞典病理学协会通讯会员。曾著有《几种隔代遗传的畸形症》（载 于一八八二年的《柳叶刀》），［《柳叶刀》（原文为Ｌａｎｃｅ）是英国的一种医学杂 志，至今仍继续出版。——译者注］《我们在前进吗？》（载于一八八三年三月份的《心理 学报》）。曾任格林盆、索斯利和高冢村等教区的医务官。”
“并没有提到那个本地的猎人会啊，华生！”福尔摩斯带着嘲弄的微笑说，“正象你所 说的观察结果一样，他不过是个乡村医生；我觉得我的推论是很正确的了。至于那些形容 词，如果我记得不错的话，我说过‘和蔼可亲、安于现状和马马虎虎’。根据我的经验，在 这个世界里只有待人亲切的人才会收到纪念品；只有不贪功名的人才会放弃伦敦的生涯而跑 到乡村去；只有马马虎虎的人才会在你的屋里等了一小时以后不留下自己的名片，反而留下 自己的手杖。”
“那狗呢？”
“经常是叼着这根手杖跟在它主人的后面。由于这根木杖很重，狗不得不紧紧地叼着它 的中央，因此，它的牙印就能看得很清楚了。从这些牙印间的空隙看来，我以为这只狗的下 巴要比狸犬下巴宽，而比獒犬下巴窄。它可能是……对了，它一定是一只卷毛的长耳獚 犬。”
他站了起来，一面说着一面在屋里来回地走着。他在向楼外突出的窗台前站住了。他的 语调里充满了自信，引得我抬起头来，以惊奇的眼光望着他。
“亲爱的伙伴，对这一点，你怎么能这样地肯定呢？”
“原因很简单，我现在已经看到那只狗正在咱们大门口的台阶上，而且它主人按铃的声 音也传了上来。不要动，我恳求你，华生。他是你的同行兄弟，你在场对我也许会有帮助。
华生，现在真是命运之中最富戏剧性的时刻了，你听得到楼梯上的脚步声了吧，他正在 走进你的生活；可是，你竟不知道是祸是福。这位医学界的人物，杰姆士·摩梯末医生要向 犯罪问题专家歇洛克·福尔摩斯请教些什么呢？请进！”
这位客人的外表，对我来说真是值得惊奇的事，因为我先前预料的是一位典型的乡村医 生，而他却是一个又高又瘦的人，长长的鼻子象只鸟嘴，突出在一双敏锐而呈灰色的眼睛之 间，两眼相距很近，在一副金边眼镜的后面炯炯发光。他穿的是他这一行人常爱穿的衣服， 可是相当落拓，因为他的外衣已经脏了，裤子也已磨损。虽然还年轻，可是长长的后背已经 弯曲了，他在走路的时候头向前探着，并具有贵族般的慈祥风度。他一进来，眼光马上就落 在福尔摩斯拿着的手杖上了，他欢呼一声就向他跑了过去。“我太高兴了！”他说道，“我 不能肯定究竟是把它忘在这里了呢？还是忘在轮船公司里了。我宁可失去整个世界，也不愿 失去这根手杖。”
“我想它是件礼物吧。”福尔摩斯说。
“是的，先生。”
“是查林十字医院送的吗？”
“是那里的两个朋友在我结婚时送的。”
“唉呀！天哪，真糟糕！”福尔摩斯摇着头说。
摩梯末医生透过眼镜稍显惊异地眨了眨眼。
“为什么糟糕？”
“因为您已经打乱了我们的几个小小的推论。您说是在结婚的时候，是吗？”
“是的，先生，我一结婚就离开了医院，也放弃了成为顾问医生［顾问医生为医生中之 地位最高者。顾问医生停止一般医疗工作而专门协助诊断治疗一般医生难以诊治之疑难病 症。——译者注］的全部希望。可是，为了能建立起自己的家庭来，这样做是完全必要 的。”
“啊哈！我们总算还没有弄错。”福尔摩斯说道，“嗯，杰姆士·摩梯末博士……”
“您称我先生好了，我是个卑微的皇家外科医学院的学生。”
“而且显而易见，还是个思想精密的人。”
“一个对科学略知一二的人，福尔摩斯先生；一个在广大的未知的海洋岸边拣贝壳的 人。我想我是在对歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生讲话，而不是……”
“不，这是我的朋友华生医生。”
“很高兴能见到您，先生。我曾听到人家把您和您朋友的名字相提并论。您使我很感兴 趣，福尔摩斯先生。我真想不到会看见这样长长的头颅或是这种深深陷入的眼窝。您不反对 我用手指沿着您的头顶骨缝摸一摸吧，先生？在没有得到您这具头骨的实物以前，如果按照 您的头骨做成模型，对任何人类学博物馆说来都会是一件出色的标本。我并不想招人讨厌， 可是我承认，我真是羡慕您的头骨。”
歇洛克·福尔摩斯用手势请我们的陌生客人在椅子上坐下。“先生，我看得出来，您和 我一样，是个很热心于思考本行问题的人，如同我对我的本行一样。”他说道，“我从您的 食指上能看出来您是自己卷烟抽的；不必犹豫了，请点一支吧。”
那人拿出了卷烟纸和烟草，在手中以惊人的熟练手法卷成了一支。他那长长的手指抖动 着，好象昆虫的触须一样。
福尔摩斯很平静，可是他那迅速地转来转去的眼珠使我看出，他已对我们这位怪异的客 人发生了兴趣。
“我认为，先生，”他终于说起话来了，“您昨晚赏光来访，今天又来，恐怕不仅仅是 为了研究我的头颅吧？”
“不，先生，不是的，虽然我也很高兴有机会这样做。我所以来找您，福尔摩斯先生， 是因为我知道我自己是个缺乏实际经验的人，而且我忽然遇到了一件最为严重而又极为特殊 的问题。由于我确知您是欧洲第二位最高明的专家……”
“喝，先生！请问，荣幸地站在第一位的是谁呢？”福尔摩斯有些刻薄地问道。
“对于一个具有精确的科学头脑的人来说，贝蒂荣先生办案的手法总是具有很强的吸引 力的。”
“那么您去找他商讨不是更好吗？”
“先生，我是说，就具有精确的科学头脑的人说来。可是，就对事物的实际经验说来， 众所共知的，您是独一无二的了。东西
我相信，先生，我并没有在无意之中……”
“不过稍微有一点罢了，”福尔摩斯说道，“我想，摩梯末医生，最好请您立刻把要求 我协助的问题明白地告诉我吧。”
"Well, Watson, what do you make of it?"
Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my occupation.
"How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head."
"I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me," said he. "But, tell me, Watson, what do you make of our visitor's stick? Since we have been so unfortunate as to miss him and have no notion of his errand, this accidental souvenir becomes of importance. Let me hear you reconstruct the man by an examination of it."
"I think," said I, following as far as I could the methods of my companion, "that Dr. Mortimer is a successful, elderly medical man, well-esteemed since those who know him give him this mark of their appreciation."
"Good!" said Holmes. "Excellent!"
"I think also that the probability is in favour of his being a country practitioner who does a great deal of his visiting on foot."
"Why so?"
"Because this stick, though originally a very handsome one has been so knocked about that I can hardly imagine a town practitioner carrying it. The thick-iron ferrule is worn down, so it is evident that he has done a great amount of walking with it."
"Perfectly sound!" said Holmes.
"And then again, there is the 'friends of the C.C.H.' I should guess that to be the Something Hunt, the local hunt to whose members he has possibly given some surgical assistance, and which has made him a small presentation in return."
"Really, Watson, you excel yourself," said Holmes, pushing back his chair and lighting a cigarette. "I am bound to say that in all the accounts which you have been so good as to give of my own small achievements you have habitually underrated your own abilities. It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it. I confess, my dear fellow, that I am very much in your debt."
He had never said as much before, and I must admit that his words gave me keen pleasure, for I had often been piqued by his indifference to my admiration and to the attempts which I had made to give publicity to his methods. I was proud, too, to think that I had so far mastered his system as to apply it in a way which earned his approval. He now took the stick from my hands and examined it for a few minutes with his naked eyes. Then with an expression of interest he laid down his cigarette, and carrying the cane to the window, he looked over it again with a convex lens.
"Interesting, though elementary," said he as he returned to his favourite corner of the settee. "There are certainly one or two indications upon the stick. It gives us the basis for several deductions."
"Has anything escaped me?" I asked with some self-importance. "I trust that there is nothing of consequence which I have overlooked?"
"I am afraid, my dear Watson, that most of your conclusions were erroneous. When I said that you stimulated me I meant, to be frank, that in noting your fallacies I was occasionally guided towards the truth. Not that you are entirely wrong in this instance. The man is certainly a country practitioner. And he walks a good deal."
"Then I was right."
"To that extent."
"But that was all."
"No, no, my dear Watson, not all--by no means all. I would suggest, for example, that a presentation to a doctor is more likely to come from a hospital than from a hunt, and that when the initials 'C.C.' are placed before that hospital the words 'Charing Cross' very naturally suggest themselves."
"You may be right."
"The probability lies in that direction. And if we take this as a working hypothesis we have a fresh basis from which to start our construction of this unknown visitor."
"Well, then, supposing that 'C.C.H.' does stand for 'Charing Cross Hospital,' what further inferences may we draw?"
"Do none suggest themselves? You know my methods. Apply them!"
"I can only think of the obvious conclusion that the man has practised in town before going to the country."
"I think that we might venture a little farther than this. Look at it in this light. On what occasion would it be most probable that such a presentation would be made? When would his friends unite to give him a pledge of their good will? Obviously at the moment when Dr. Mortimer withdrew from the service of the hospital in order to start in practice for himself. We know there has been a presentation. We believe there has been a change from a town hospital to a country practice. Is it, then, stretching our inference too far to say that the presentation was on the occasion of the change?"
"It certainly seems probable."
"Now, you will observe that he could not have been on the staff of the hospital, since only a man well-established in a London practice could hold such a position, and such a one would not drift into the country. What was he, then? If he was in the hospital and yet not on the staff he could only have been a house-surgeon or a house-physician--little more than a senior student. And he left five years ago--the date is on the stick. So your grave, middle-aged family practitioner vanishes into thin air, my dear Watson, and there emerges a young fellow under thirty, amiable, unambitious, absent-minded, and the possessor of a favourite dog, which I should describe roughly as being larger than a terrier and smaller than a mastiff."
I laughed incredulously as Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his settee and blew little wavering rings of smoke up to the ceiling.
"As to the latter part, I have no means of checking you," said I, "but at least it is not difficult to find out a few particulars about the man's age and professional career." From my small medical shelf I took down the Medical Directory and turned up the name. There were several Mortimers, but only one who could be our visitor. I read his record aloud.
"Mortimer, James, M.R.C.S., 1882, Grimpen, Dartmoor, Devon. House-surgeon, from 1882 to 1884, at Charing Cross Hospital. Winner of the Jackson prize for Comparative Pathology, with essay entitled 'Is Disease a Reversion?' Corresponding member of the Swedish Pathological Society. Author of 'Some Freaks of Atavism' (Lancet 1882). 'Do We Progress?' (Journal of Psychology, March, 1883). Medical Officer for the parishes of Grimpen, Thorsley, and High Barrow."
"No mention of that local hunt, Watson," said Holmes with a mischievous smile, "but a country doctor, as you very astutely observed. I think that I am fairly justified in my inferences. As to the adjectives, I said, if I remember right, amiable, unambitious, and absent-minded. It is my experience that it is only an amiable man in this world who receives testimonials, only an unambitious one who abandons a London career for the country, and only an absent-minded one who leaves his stick and not his visiting-card after waiting an hour in your room."
"And the dog?"
"Has been in the habit of carrying this stick behind his master. Being a heavy stick the dog has held it tightly by the middle, and the marks of his teeth are very plainly visible. The dog's jaw, as shown in the space between these marks, is too broad in my opinion for a terrier and not broad enough for a mastiff. It may have been--yes, by Jove, it is a curly-haired spaniel."
He had risen and paced the room as he spoke. Now he halted in the recess of the window. There was such a ring of conviction in his voice that I glanced up in surprise.
"My dear fellow, how can you possibly be so sure of that?"
"For the very simple reason that I see the dog himself on our very door-step, and there is the ring of its owner. Don't move, I beg you, Watson. He is a professional brother of yours, and your presence may be of assistance to me. Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when you hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or ill. What does Dr. James Mortimer, the man of science, ask of Sherlock Holmes, the specialist in crime? Come in!"
The appearance of our visitor was a surprise to me, since I had expected a typical country practitioner. He was a very tall, thin man, with a long nose like a beak, which jutted out between two keen, gray eyes, set closely together and sparkling brightly from behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. He was clad in a professional but rather slovenly fashion, for his frock-coat was dingy and his trousers frayed. Though young, his long back was already bowed, and he walked with a forward thrust of his head and a general air of peering benevolence. As he entered his eyes fell upon the stick in Holmes's hand, and he ran towards it with an exclamation of joy. "I am so very glad," said he. "I was not sure whether I had left it here or in the Shipping Office. I would not lose that stick for the world."
"A presentation, I see," said Holmes.
"Yes, sir."
"From Charing Cross Hospital?"
"From one or two friends there on the occasion of my marriage."
"Dear, dear, that's bad!" said Holmes, shaking his head.
Dr. Mortimer blinked through his glasses in mild astonishment.
"Why was it bad?"
"Only that you have disarranged our little deductions. Your marriage, you say?"
"Yes, sir. I married, and so left the hospital, and with it all hopes of a consulting practice. It was necessary to make a home of my own."
"Come, come, we are not so far wrong, after all," said Holmes. "And now, Dr. James Mortimer ------"
"Mister, sir, Mister--a humble M.R.C.S."
"And a man of precise mind, evidently."
"A dabbler in science, Mr. Holmes, a picker up of shells on the shores of the great unknown ocean. I presume that it is Mr. Sherlock Holmes whom I 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."
“啊，华生，你对它的看法怎么样？”
福尔摩斯正背对着我坐在那里，我原以为我摆弄手杖的事并没有叫他发觉呢。
“你怎么知道我在干什么呢？我想你的后脑勺儿上一定长了眼睛了吧。”
“至少我的眼前放着一把擦得很亮的镀银咖啡壶。”他说，“可是，华生，告诉我，你 对咱们这位客人的手杖怎样看呢？
遗憾的是咱们没有遇到他，对他此来的目的也一无所知，因此，这件意外的纪念品就变 得更重要了。在你把它仔细地察看过以后，把这个人给我形容一番吧。”
“我想，”我尽量沿用着我这位伙伴的推理方法说，“从认识他的人们送给他这件用来 表示敬意的纪念品来看，摩梯末医生是一位功成名就、年岁较大的医学界人士，并且很受人 尊敬。”
“好哇！”福尔摩斯说：“好极了！”
“我还认为，他很可能是一位在乡村行医的医生，出诊时多半是步行的。”
“为什么呢？”
“因为这根手杖原来虽很漂亮，可是，已经磕碰得很厉害了，很难想象一位在城里行医 的医生还肯拿着它。下端所装的厚铁包头已经磨损得很厉害了，因此，显然他曾用它走过很 多的路。”
“完全正确！”福尔摩斯说。
“还有，那上面刻着‘Ｃ．Ｃ．Ｈ．的朋友们’，据我猜想，所指的大概是个猎人会 ［因为猎人（Ｈｕｎｔｅｒ）一词的头一个字母是Ｈ，所以华生推想Ｃ．Ｃ．Ｈ．可能是个 什么猎人会组织名称的缩写字。——译者注］；他可能曾经给当地的这个猎人会的会员们作 过一些外科治疗，因此，他们才送了他这件小礼物表示酬谢。”
“华生，你真是大有长进了，”福尔摩斯一面说着，一面把椅子向后推了推，并点了支 纸烟，“我不能不说，在你热心地为我那些微小的成就所作的一切记载里面，你已经习惯于 低估自己的能力了。也许你本身并不能发光，但是，你是光的传导者。有些人本身没有天 才，可是有着可观的激发天才的力量。我承认，亲爱的伙伴，我真是太感激你了。”
他以前从来没有讲过这么多的话，不可否认，他的话给了我极大的快乐。因为过去他对 于我对他的钦佩和企图将他的推理方法公诸于众所作的努力，常是报以漠然视之的态度，这 样很伤我的自尊心。而现在我居然也能掌握了他的方法，并且实际应用起来，还得到了他的 赞许，想起这点我就感到很骄傲。现在他从我手中把手杖拿了过去，用眼睛审视了几分钟， 然后带着一副很感兴趣的神情放下了纸烟，把手杖拿到窗前又用放大镜仔细察看起来。
“虽很简单，但还有趣，”他说着就重新在他所最喜欢的那只长椅的一端坐下了，“手 杖上确实有一两处能够说明问题。它给我们的推论提供了根据。”
“我还漏掉了什么东西吗？”我有些自负地问道，“我相信我没有把重大的地方忽略 掉。”
“亲爱的华生，恐怕你的结论大部分都是错误的呢！坦白地说吧，当我说你激发了我的 时候，我的意思是说：在我指出你谬误之处的同时，往往就把我引向了真理。但并不是说这 一次你完全错误了。那个人肯定是一位在乡村行医的医生，而且他确是常常步行的。”
“那么说，我的猜测就是对的了。”
“也只是到这个程度而已。”
“但是，那就是全部事实了。”
“不，不，亲爱的华生，并非全部——决不是全部。譬如说，我倒愿意提出，送给这位 医生的这件礼物，与其说是来自猎人会，倒不如说是来自一家医院；由于两个字头 ‘Ｃ．Ｃ．’是放在‘医院’一词（在英文中，医院一词的字头也是Ｈ）之前的。因此，很 自然的使人想起了ＣｈａｒｉｎｇＣｒｏｓｓ这两个字来。”
“也许是你对了。”
“很可能是这样的。如果咱们拿这一点当作有效的假设的话，那我们就又有了一个新的 根据了。由这个根据出发，就能对这位未知的来客进行描绘了。”
“好吧！假设‘Ｃ．Ｃ．Ｈ．’所指的就是查林十字医院，那么我们究竟能得出什么进 一步的结论呢？”
“难道就没有一点能够说明问题的地方了吗？既然懂得了我的方法，那么就应用吧！”
“我只能想出一个明显的结论来，那个人在下乡之前曾在城里行过医。”
“我想咱们可以大胆地比这更前进一步，从这样的角度来看，最可能是在什么样的情况 下，才会发生这样的赠礼的行动呢？在什么时候，他的朋友们才会联合起来向他表示他们的 好意呢？显然是在摩梯末为了自行开业而离开医院的时候。
我们知道有过一次赠礼的事；我们相信他曾从一家城市医院转到乡村去行医。那么咱们 下结论，说这礼物是在这个转换的当儿送的不算过分吧。”
“看来当然是可能的。”
“现在，你可以看得出来，他不会是主要医师，因为只有当一个人在伦敦行医已有了相 当名望的时候，才能据有这样的地位，而这样的一个人就不会迁往乡村去了。那么，他究竟 是个做什么的呢？如果说他是在医院里工作而又不算在主要医师之列，那么他就只可能是个 住院外科医生或者是住院内科医生——地位稍稍高于医学院最高年级的学生；而他是在五年 以前离开的——日期是刻在手杖上的，因此你的那位严肃的、中年的医生就化为乌有了。亲 爱的华生，可是这里出现了一位青年人，不到三十岁，和蔼可亲、安于现状、马马虎虎，他 还有一只心爱的狗，我可以大略地把它形容成比狸犬大，比獒犬小。”
我不相信地笑了起来。歇洛克·福尔摩斯向后靠在长椅上，向天花板上吐着飘荡不定的 小烟圈。
“至于后一部份，我无法检查你是否正确，”我说，“但是要想找出几个有关他的年龄 和履历的特点来，至少是不怎么困难的。”我从我那小小的放医学书籍的书架上拿下一本医 药手册来，翻到人名栏的地方。里面有好几个姓摩梯末的，但只有一个可能是我们的来客。 我高声地读出了这段记载：
“杰姆士·摩梯末，一八八二年毕业于皇家外科医学院，德文郡达特沼地格林盆人。一 八八二至一八八四年在查林十字医院任住院外科医生。因著文《疾病是否隔代遗传》而获得 杰克逊比较病理学奖金。瑞典病理学协会通讯会员。曾著有《几种隔代遗传的畸形症》（载 于一八八二年的《柳叶刀》），［《柳叶刀》（原文为Ｌａｎｃｅ）是英国的一种医学杂 志，至今仍继续出版。——译者注］《我们在前进吗？》（载于一八八三年三月份的《心理 学报》）。曾任格林盆、索斯利和高冢村等教区的医务官。”
“并没有提到那个本地的猎人会啊，华生！”福尔摩斯带着嘲弄的微笑说，“正象你所 说的观察结果一样，他不过是个乡村医生；我觉得我的推论是很正确的了。至于那些形容 词，如果我记得不错的话，我说过‘和蔼可亲、安于现状和马马虎虎’。根据我的经验，在 这个世界里只有待人亲切的人才会收到纪念品；只有不贪功名的人才会放弃伦敦的生涯而跑 到乡村去；只有马马虎虎的人才会在你的屋里等了一小时以后不留下自己的名片，反而留下 自己的手杖。”
“那狗呢？”
“经常是叼着这根手杖跟在它主人的后面。由于这根木杖很重，狗不得不紧紧地叼着它 的中央，因此，它的牙印就能看得很清楚了。从这些牙印间的空隙看来，我以为这只狗的下 巴要比狸犬下巴宽，而比獒犬下巴窄。它可能是……对了，它一定是一只卷毛的长耳獚 犬。”
他站了起来，一面说着一面在屋里来回地走着。他在向楼外突出的窗台前站住了。他的 语调里充满了自信，引得我抬起头来，以惊奇的眼光望着他。
“亲爱的伙伴，对这一点，你怎么能这样地肯定呢？”
“原因很简单，我现在已经看到那只狗正在咱们大门口的台阶上，而且它主人按铃的声 音也传了上来。不要动，我恳求你，华生。他是你的同行兄弟，你在场对我也许会有帮助。
华生，现在真是命运之中最富戏剧性的时刻了，你听得到楼梯上的脚步声了吧，他正在 走进你的生活；可是，你竟不知道是祸是福。这位医学界的人物，杰姆士·摩梯末医生要向 犯罪问题专家歇洛克·福尔摩斯请教些什么呢？请进！”
这位客人的外表，对我来说真是值得惊奇的事，因为我先前预料的是一位典型的乡村医 生，而他却是一个又高又瘦的人，长长的鼻子象只鸟嘴，突出在一双敏锐而呈灰色的眼睛之 间，两眼相距很近，在一副金边眼镜的后面炯炯发光。他穿的是他这一行人常爱穿的衣服， 可是相当落拓，因为他的外衣已经脏了，裤子也已磨损。虽然还年轻，可是长长的后背已经 弯曲了，他在走路的时候头向前探着，并具有贵族般的慈祥风度。他一进来，眼光马上就落 在福尔摩斯拿着的手杖上了，他欢呼一声就向他跑了过去。“我太高兴了！”他说道，“我 不能肯定究竟是把它忘在这里了呢？还是忘在轮船公司里了。我宁可失去整个世界，也不愿 失去这根手杖。”
“我想它是件礼物吧。”福尔摩斯说。
“是的，先生。”
“是查林十字医院送的吗？”
“是那里的两个朋友在我结婚时送的。”
“唉呀！天哪，真糟糕！”福尔摩斯摇着头说。
摩梯末医生透过眼镜稍显惊异地眨了眨眼。
“为什么糟糕？”
“因为您已经打乱了我们的几个小小的推论。您说是在结婚的时候，是吗？”
“是的，先生，我一结婚就离开了医院，也放弃了成为顾问医生［顾问医生为医生中之 地位最高者。顾问医生停止一般医疗工作而专门协助诊断治疗一般医生难以诊治之疑难病 症。——译者注］的全部希望。可是，为了能建立起自己的家庭来，这样做是完全必要 的。”
“啊哈！我们总算还没有弄错。”福尔摩斯说道，“嗯，杰姆士·摩梯末博士……”
“您称我先生好了，我是个卑微的皇家外科医学院的学生。”
“而且显而易见，还是个思想精密的人。”
“一个对科学略知一二的人，福尔摩斯先生；一个在广大的未知的海洋岸边拣贝壳的 人。我想我是在对歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生讲话，而不是……”
“不，这是我的朋友华生医生。”
“很高兴能见到您，先生。我曾听到人家把您和您朋友的名字相提并论。您使我很感兴 趣，福尔摩斯先生。我真想不到会看见这样长长的头颅或是这种深深陷入的眼窝。您不反对 我用手指沿着您的头顶骨缝摸一摸吧，先生？在没有得到您这具头骨的实物以前，如果按照 您的头骨做成模型，对任何人类学博物馆说来都会是一件出色的标本。我并不想招人讨厌， 可是我承认，我真是羡慕您的头骨。”
歇洛克·福尔摩斯用手势请我们的陌生客人在椅子上坐下。“先生，我看得出来，您和 我一样，是个很热心于思考本行问题的人，如同我对我的本行一样。”他说道，“我从您的 食指上能看出来您是自己卷烟抽的；不必犹豫了，请点一支吧。”
那人拿出了卷烟纸和烟草，在手中以惊人的熟练手法卷成了一支。他那长长的手指抖动 着，好象昆虫的触须一样。
福尔摩斯很平静，可是他那迅速地转来转去的眼珠使我看出，他已对我们这位怪异的客 人发生了兴趣。
“我认为，先生，”他终于说起话来了，“您昨晚赏光来访，今天又来，恐怕不仅仅是 为了研究我的头颅吧？”
“不，先生，不是的，虽然我也很高兴有机会这样做。我所以来找您，福尔摩斯先生， 是因为我知道我自己是个缺乏实际经验的人，而且我忽然遇到了一件最为严重而又极为特殊 的问题。由于我确知您是欧洲第二位最高明的专家……”
“喝，先生！请问，荣幸地站在第一位的是谁呢？”福尔摩斯有些刻薄地问道。
“对于一个具有精确的科学头脑的人来说，贝蒂荣先生办案的手法总是具有很强的吸引 力的。”
“那么您去找他商讨不是更好吗？”
“先生，我是说，就具有精确的科学头脑的人说来。可是，就对事物的实际经验说来， 众所共知的，您是独一无二的了。东西
我相信，先生，我并没有在无意之中……”
“不过稍微有一点罢了，”福尔摩斯说道，“我想，摩梯末医生，最好请您立刻把要求 我协助的问题明白地告诉我吧。”
"Well, Watson, what do you make of it?"
Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my occupation.
"How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head."
"I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me," said he. "But, tell me, Watson, what do you make of our visitor's stick? Since we have been so unfortunate as to miss him and have no notion of his errand, this accidental souvenir becomes of importance. Let me hear you reconstruct the man by an examination of it."
"I think," said I, following as far as I could the methods of my companion, "that Dr. Mortimer is a successful, elderly medical man, well-esteemed since those who know him give him this mark of their appreciation."
"Good!" said Holmes. "Excellent!"
"I think also that the probability is in favour of his being a country practitioner who does a great deal of his visiting on foot."
"Why so?"
"Because this stick, though originally a very handsome one has been so knocked about that I can hardly imagine a town practitioner carrying it. The thick-iron ferrule is worn down, so it is evident that he has done a great amount of walking with it."
"Perfectly sound!" said Holmes.
"And then again, there is the 'friends of the C.C.H.' I should guess that to be the Something Hunt, the local hunt to whose members he has possibly given some surgical assistance, and which has made him a small presentation in return."
"Really, Watson, you excel yourself," said Holmes, pushing back his chair and lighting a cigarette. "I am bound to say that in all the accounts which you have been so good as to give of my own small achievements you have habitually underrated your own abilities. It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it. I confess, my dear fellow, that I am very much in your debt."
He had never said as much before, and I must admit that his words gave me keen pleasure, for I had often been piqued by his indifference to my admiration and to the attempts which I had made to give publicity to his methods. I was proud, too, to think that I had so far mastered his system as to apply it in a way which earned his approval. He now took the stick from my hands and examined it for a few minutes with his naked eyes. Then with an expression of interest he laid down his cigarette, and carrying the cane to the window, he looked over it again with a convex lens.
"Interesting, though elementary," said he as he returned to his favourite corner of the settee. "There are certainly one or two indications upon the stick. It gives us the basis for several deductions."
"Has anything escaped me?" I asked with some self-importance. "I trust that there is nothing of consequence which I have overlooked?"
"I am afraid, my dear Watson, that most of your conclusions were erroneous. When I said that you stimulated me I meant, to be frank, that in noting your fallacies I was occasionally guided towards the truth. Not that you are entirely wrong in this instance. The man is certainly a country practitioner. And he walks a good deal."
"Then I was right."
"To that extent."
"But that was all."
"No, no, my dear Watson, not all--by no means all. I would suggest, for example, that a presentation to a doctor is more likely to come from a hospital than from a hunt, and that when the initials 'C.C.' are placed before that hospital the words 'Charing Cross' very naturally suggest themselves."
"You may be right."
"The probability lies in that direction. And if we take this as a working hypothesis we have a fresh basis from which to start our construction of this unknown visitor."
"Well, then, supposing that 'C.C.H.' does stand for 'Charing Cross Hospital,' what further inferences may we draw?"
"Do none suggest themselves? You know my methods. Apply them!"
"I can only think of the obvious conclusion that the man has practised in town before going to the country."
"I think that we might venture a little farther than this. Look at it in this light. On what occasion would it be most probable that such a presentation would be made? When would his friends unite to give him a pledge of their good will? Obviously at the moment when Dr. Mortimer withdrew from the service of the hospital in order to start in practice for himself. We know there has been a presentation. We believe there has been a change from a town hospital to a country practice. Is it, then, stretching our inference too far to say that the presentation was on the occasion of the change?"
"It certainly seems probable."
"Now, you will observe that he could not have been on the staff of the hospital, since only a man well-established in a London practice could hold such a position, and such a one would not drift into the country. What was he, then? If he was in the hospital and yet not on the staff he could only have been a house-surgeon or a house-physician--little more than a senior student. And he left five years ago--the date is on the stick. So your grave, middle-aged family practitioner vanishes into thin air, my dear Watson, and there emerges a young fellow under thirty, amiable, unambitious, absent-minded, and the possessor of a favourite dog, which I should describe roughly as being larger than a terrier and smaller than a mastiff."
I laughed incredulously as Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his settee and blew little wavering rings of smoke up to the ceiling.
"As to the latter part, I have no means of checking you," said I, "but at least it is not difficult to find out a few particulars about the man's age and professional career." From my small medical shelf I took down the Medical Directory and turned up the name. There were several Mortimers, but only one who could be our visitor. I read his record aloud.
"Mortimer, James, M.R.C.S., 1882, Grimpen, Dartmoor, Devon. House-surgeon, from 1882 to 1884, at Charing Cross Hospital. Winner of the Jackson prize for Comparative Pathology, with essay entitled 'Is Disease a Reversion?' Corresponding member of the Swedish Pathological Society. Author of 'Some Freaks of Atavism' (Lancet 1882). 'Do We Progress?' (Journal of Psychology, March, 1883). Medical Officer for the parishes of Grimpen, Thorsley, and High Barrow."
"No mention of that local hunt, Watson," said Holmes with a mischievous smile, "but a country doctor, as you very astutely observed. I think that I am fairly justified in my inferences. As to the adjectives, I said, if I remember right, amiable, unambitious, and absent-minded. It is my experience that it is only an amiable man in this world who receives testimonials, only an unambitious one who abandons a London career for the country, and only an absent-minded one who leaves his stick and not his visiting-card after waiting an hour in your room."
"And the dog?"
"Has been in the habit of carrying this stick behind his master. Being a heavy stick the dog has held it tightly by the middle, and the marks of his teeth are very plainly visible. The dog's jaw, as shown in the space between these marks, is too broad in my opinion for a terrier and not broad enough for a mastiff. It may have been--yes, by Jove, it is a curly-haired spaniel."
He had risen and paced the room as he spoke. Now he halted in the recess of the window. There was such a ring of conviction in his voice that I glanced up in surprise.
"My dear fellow, how can you possibly be so sure of that?"
"For the very simple reason that I see the dog himself on our very door-step, and there is the ring of its owner. Don't move, I beg you, Watson. He is a professional brother of yours, and your presence may be of assistance to me. Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when you hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or ill. What does Dr. James Mortimer, the man of science, ask of Sherlock Holmes, the specialist in crime? Come in!"
The appearance of our visitor was a surprise to me, since I had expected a typical country practitioner. He was a very tall, thin man, with a long nose like a beak, which jutted out between two keen, gray eyes, set closely together and sparkling brightly from behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. He was clad in a professional but rather slovenly fashion, for his frock-coat was dingy and his trousers frayed. Though young, his long back was already bowed, and he walked with a forward thrust of his head and a general air of peering benevolence. As he entered his eyes fell upon the stick in Holmes's hand, and he ran towards it with an exclamation of joy. "I am so very glad," said he. "I was not sure whether I had left it here or in the Shipping Office. I would not lose that stick for the world."
"A presentation, I see," said Holmes.
"Yes, sir."
"From Charing Cross Hospital?"
"From one or two friends there on the occasion of my marriage."
"Dear, dear, that's bad!" said Holmes, shaking his head.
Dr. Mortimer blinked through his glasses in mild astonishment.
"Why was it bad?"
"Only that you have disarranged our little deductions. Your marriage, you say?"
"Yes, sir. I married, and so left the hospital, and with it all hopes of a consulting practice. It was necessary to make a home of my own."
"Come, come, we are not so far wrong, after all," said Holmes. "And now, Dr. James Mortimer ------"
"Mister, sir, Mister--a humble M.R.C.S."
"And a man of precise mind, evidently."
"A dabbler in science, Mr. Holmes, a picker up of shells on the shores of the great unknown ocean. I presume that it is Mr. Sherlock Holmes whom I 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."
“我口袋里有一篇手稿，”杰姆士·摩梯末医生说道。
“在您进屋时我就看出来了，”福尔摩斯说。
“是一张旧手稿。”
“是十八世纪初期的，否则就是假造的了。”
“您怎么知道的呢，先生？”
“在您说话的时候，我看到那手稿一直露着一两英寸的光景。如果一位专家不能把一份 文件的时期估计得相差不出十年左右的话，那他就真是一位差劲儿的蹩脚专家了。可能您已 经读过了我写的那篇关于这问题的小论吧。据我判断，这篇手稿是在一七三○年写成的。”
“确切的年代是一七四二年。”摩梯末医生从胸前的口袋里把它掏了出来，“这份祖传 的家书，是查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士交托给我的，三个月前他忽遭惨死，在德文郡引起了很 大的惊恐。可以说，我是他的朋友，同时又是他的医生。他是个意志坚强的人，先生，很敏 锐，经验丰富，并和我一样地讲求实际。他把这份文件看得很认真，他心里早已准备接受这 样的结局了；而结果，他竟真的得到了这样的结局。”
福尔摩斯接过了手稿，把它平铺在膝头上。
“华生，你注意看，长Ｓ和短Ｓ的换用，这就是使我能确定年代的几个特点之一。”
我凑在他的肩后看着那张黄纸和退了色的字迹。顶上写着“巴斯克维尔庄园”，再下面 就是潦草的数字“１７４２”。
“看来好象是一篇什么记载似的。”
“对了，是关于一件在巴斯克维尔家流传的传说。”
“不过我想您来找我恐怕是为了当前的和更有实际意义的事情吧？”
“是近在眼前的事，这是一件最为现实和急迫的事了，必须在二十四小时之内做出决 定。不过这份手稿很短，而且与这件事有着密切联系。如果您允许的话，我就把它读给您 听。”
福尔摩斯靠在椅背上，两手的指尖对顶在一起，闭上了眼睛，显出一副听其自然的神 情。摩梯末将手稿拿向亮处，以高亢而嘶哑的声音朗读着下面的奇特而古老的故事：
“关于巴斯克维尔的猎犬一事有过很多的说法，我所以要写下来是因为我相信确曾发生 过象我所写的这样的事。我是修果·巴斯克维尔的直系后代，这件事是我从我父亲那里听来 的，而我父亲又是直接听我祖父说的。儿子们，但愿你们相信，公正的神明能够惩罚那些有 罪的人，但是只要他们能祈祷悔过，无论犯了多么深重的罪，也都能得到宽恕。你们知道了 这件事，也不用因为前辈们所得的恶果而恐惧，只要自己将来谨慎就可以了，以免咱们这家 族过去所尝到的深重的痛苦重新落在咱们这些败落的后代身上。
“据说是在大叛乱时期［指英国１６４２—１６６０年的内战而言。——译者注］（我 真心地向你们推荐，应该读一读博学的克莱仑顿男爵所写的历史），这所巴斯克维尔大厦本 为修果·巴斯克维尔所占用，无可否认，他是个最卑俗粗野、最目无上帝的人了。事实上， 如果只是这一点的话，乡邻本是可以原谅他的，因为在这一地区圣教从来就没有兴旺过。他 的天性狂妄、残忍，在西部已是家喻户晓了。这位修果先生偶然地爱上了（如果还能用这样 纯洁的字眼称呼他那卑鄙的情欲的话）在巴斯克维尔庄园附近种着几亩地的一个庄稼人的女 儿。可是这位少女一向有着谨言慎行的好名声，当然要躲着他了，何况她还惧怕他的恶名。 后来有一次，在米可摩斯节［教纪念圣徒麦可（Ｓｔ．Ｍｉｃｈａｅｌ）的节日（每年 ９月２９日）。——译者注］那天，这位修果先生知道她的父兄俩都出门去了，就和五六个 游手好闲的下流朋友一起，偷偷地到她家去把这个姑娘抢了回来。他们把她弄进了庄园，关 在楼上的一间小屋子里，修果就和朋友们围坐狂欢痛饮起来，他们在夜里是常常这样干的。 这时，楼上的那位可怜的姑娘听到了楼下狂歌乱吼和那些不堪入耳的脏字，已是惊恐万分不 知所措了。有人说，修果·巴斯克维尔酒醉时所说的那些话，不管是谁，即使是重说一遍都 可能会遭到天谴。最后，她在恐惧已极的情况之下竟干出来一桩就连最勇敢和最狡黠的人都 会为之咋舌的事来。
她从窗口出来，攀缘着至今仍爬满南墙的蔓藤由房檐下面一直爬了下来，然后就穿过沼 地直往家里跑去了，庄园离她家约有九英里的样子。
“过了一会儿，修果离开了客人，带着食物和酒——说不定还有更糟糕的东西呢——就 去找被他掳来的那个姑娘去了，可是竟发现笼中之鸟已经逃走了。随后，他就象中了魔似地 冲下楼来，一到饭厅就跳上了大餐桌，眼前的东西，不管是酒瓶还是木盘全都被他踢飞了。 他在朋友面前大嚷大闹着说：只要当晚他能追上那丫头，他愿把肉体和灵魂全都献给恶魔任 其摆布。当那些纵酒狂饮的浪子们被他的暴怒吓得目瞪口呆的时候，有一个特别凶恶的家伙 ——也许是因为他比别人喝得更醉——大叫着说应当把猎狗都放出去追她。修果听他一说就 跑了出去，高呼马夫牵马备鞍并把犬舍里的狗全都放出来，把那少女丢下的头巾给那些猎狗 闻了闻就把它们一窝蜂地轰了出去，这些狗在一片狂吠声中往被月光照耀着的沼地上狂奔而 去。
“这些浪子们目瞪口呆地站着，不知道这样匆匆忙忙地搞了半天究竟是怎么回事。过了 一会儿他们才弄明白了到沼地里去要干什么，接着又都大喊大叫起来了，有的人喊着要带手 枪，有的人找自己的马，有的人甚至还想再带一瓶酒。最后，他们那疯狂的头脑终于恢复了 一点理智，十三个人全体上马追了下去。头顶上的月亮清清楚楚地照着他们，他们彼此紧靠 一起顺着那少女返家的必经之途疾驰而去。
“在他们跑了一二英里路的时候，遇到了一个沼地里的牧人，他们大喊着问他看到了他 们所追捕的人没有。据说那牧人当时被吓得简直都说不出话来了，后来，他终于说他确实看 到了那个可怜的少女，后面还有一群追索着她的猎狗。‘我看到的还不止这些呢，’他说 道，‘修果·巴斯克维尔也骑着他那黑马从这里过去了，还有一只魔鬼似的大猎狗一声不响 地跟在他的后面。上帝啊，可别让那样的狗跟在我的后面！’那些醉鬼老爷们骂了那牧人一 顿就又骑着马赶了下去。可是不久他们就被吓得浑身发冷了。因为他们听到沼地里传来了马 跑的声音，随后就看到了那匹黑马，嘴里流着白沫跑了过去，鞍上无人，缰绳拖在地上。从 那时起那些浪子们就都挤到了一起，因为他们已经感到万分恐怖了，可是他们总还是在沼地 里前进着。如果他们只是一个人走在那里的话，无疑地早就会拨转马头跑回去了。他们就这 样慢慢地骑着前进，最后终于赶上了那群猎狗。这些狗虽然都是以骁勇和优种出名的，可是 这时竟也挤在沼地里的一条深沟的尽头处，竞相哀鸣起来，有些只已经逃之夭夭了，有些则 颈毛直竖，两眼直瞪瞪地向前面一条窄窄的小沟里望着。
“这帮人勒住了马，可以猜想得到，他们现在已比出发的时候清醒得多了。其中大多数 已经不想再前进了，可是有三个胆子最大的——也许是醉得最厉害的——继续策马向山沟走 了下去。前面出现了一片宽阔的平地，中间立着两根大石柱——至今还可以看到——是古时 不知是谁立起来的。月光把那块空地照得很亮，那因惊恐和疲惫而死的少女就躺在那块空地 的中央。可是使这三个胆大包天的酒鬼毛骨悚然的既不是少女的尸体，也不是躺在她近旁的 修果·巴斯克维尔的尸体，而是站在修果身旁撕扯着他喉咙的那个可怕的东西，一只既大又 黑的畜生，样子象一只猎狗，可是谁也没见过这样大的猎狗。正当他们看着那家伙撕扯修 果·巴斯克维尔的喉咙的时候，它把闪亮的眼睛和直流口涎的大嘴向他们转了过来。三个人 一看就吓得大叫起来，赶忙拨转马头逃命去了，甚至在穿过沼地的时候还惊呼不已。据说其 中的一个因为看到了那家伙当晚就吓死了，另外两个也落得个终身精神失常。
“我的儿子们啊，这就是那只猎狗的传说的来历，据说从那时起那只狗就一直可怕地骚 扰着咱们的家族。我所以要把它写下来，还因为我觉得：随便听到的东西和猜测的东西要比 知道得清清楚楚的东西可怕得多。不可否认，在咱家的人里，有许多都是未得善终的，死得 突然、凄惨而又神秘。但愿能得上帝无边慈爱的庇护，不致降罚于我等三代以至四代唯圣经 是听的人们。我的儿子们，我借上帝之名命令你们，并且劝你们要多加小心，千万要避免在 黑夜降临、罪恶势力嚣张的时候走过沼地。
“〔这是修果·巴斯克维尔［此修果·巴斯克维尔为这篇家书开头所提到之修果·巴斯 克维尔之同名后代。——译者注］留给两个儿子罗杰和约翰的家书，并敦嘱二人万勿将此事 告知其姊伊莉莎白。〕”
摩梯末医生读完了这篇怪异的记载之后就把眼镜推上了前额，直望着歇洛克·福尔摩 斯。福尔摩斯打完呵欠就把烟头扔进了炉火。
“嗯？”他说。
“您不觉得很有趣味吗？”
“对一个搜集神话的人来说，是很有趣味的。”
摩梯末医生从衣袋里掏出来一张折叠着的报纸。
“福尔摩斯先生，现在我要告诉您一件发生时间较近的事。这是一张今年五月十四日的 《德文郡纪事报》。是一篇有关几天前查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士死亡的简短叙述。”
我的朋友上身稍向前倾，神色也变得专注起来。
我们的来客重新放好了眼镜，又开始读了起来：
“最近，查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士之暴卒，使本郡不胜哀悼。据云，在下届选举中，此 人可能被选为中部德文郡自由党候选人。虽然查尔兹爵士在巴斯克维尔庄园居住不久，但其 厚道与慷慨已深得周围群众之敬爱。值此暴发户充斥之时，如查尔兹这样一支名门之后，竟 能致富还乡，重振因厄运而中衰之家声，诚为可喜之事。众所周知之查尔兹爵士曾在南非投 机致富。但他较之一直于到倒霉为止的人们聪明，他带着变卖了的资财返回英伦。他来到巴 斯克维尔庄园不过两年，人们普遍在谈论着他那庞大的重建和修幕的计划，然此计划已因其 本人逝世而中断。因他并无子嗣，他曾公开表示，在他有生之日整个乡区将得到他的资助， 因此，有很多人都悲悼他的暴亡。至于他对本地及郡慈善机关的慷慨捐输，本栏曾常有登 载。
“验尸之结果尚未能将与查尔兹爵士之死亡相关之诸情况弄清，至少尚未能消除由于当 地之迷信所引起之诸种谣传。毫无理由怀疑有任何犯罪成分，或想象死亡并非由于自然原 因。查尔兹爵士为鳏夫，据说他在某些方面表现精神状态有些反常。他虽有如许财产，但个 人所好却很简单。巴斯克维尔庄园中之仆人只有白瑞摩夫妇二人，丈夫是总管，妻子当管家 妇。他们的已被几个朋友证实了的证词说明：查尔兹爵士曾有健康情况不良之征象，尤其是 几点心脏症状；表现在面色改变、呼吸困难和严重的神经衰弱。死者的朋友和私人医生杰姆 士·摩梯未也提供了同样的证明。
“案件实情甚为简单。查尔兹·巴斯克维尔有一种习惯，每晚在就寝前，须沿巴斯克维 尔庄园出名之水松夹道散步。白瑞摩夫妇的证词说明死者之习惯确是如此。五月四日，查尔 兹爵士曾声称他第二天想去伦敦，并曾命白瑞摩为他准备行李。当晚他照常出去作晚间散 步，他常吸着雪茄散步，可是他再也没有回来。在十二点钟的时候，白瑞摩发现厅门还开 着，他吃了一惊，于是就点了灯笼，出去寻找主人。当时外面很潮湿，所以沿着夹道下去很 容易看到爵士的足迹，小路的中间有个通向沼地的栅门。种种迹象都说明查尔兹爵士曾站在 门前，然后他就沿着夹道走了下去，他的尸体就是在夹道的末端被发现的。有一件尚未得到 解释的事实就是：白瑞摩说，他主人的足迹在过了通往沼地的栅门后就变了样，好象是从那 以后就换用足尖走路了。有一个叫作摩菲的吉卜赛马贩子，当时正在沼地里距出事地点不远 的地方，可是他自己承认当时酒醉得很厉害。他说他曾听到过呼喊声，但说不清是来自哪 方。在查尔兹爵士身上找不出遭受暴力袭击的痕迹，可是医生的证明中曾指出面容变形到几 乎难以相信的程度的、躺在他面前的就是他的朋友和病人的尸体——据解释说，这是一种在 因呼吸困难和心脏衰竭而死的时候常有的现象。这一解释已为尸体解剖所证明，说明存在着 由来已久的官能上的病症。法院验尸官也缴呈了一份与医生证明相符的判断书。如此结束究 属妥善，因查尔兹爵士之后代仍将在庄园居住，并将继续不幸为之中断的善行，因此，显然 此点具有极端重要性，如验尸官平凡的发现不能最后扑灭那些邻里相传的有关此事的荒诞故 事，则欲为巴斯克维尔庄园找个住户就很困难了。据了解，如果说爵士还有活着的最近的亲 属的话，那就是他弟弟的儿子亨利·巴斯克维尔先生了。以前曾听说这位年轻人在美洲。现 已进行调查，以便通知他来接受这笔为数庞大的财产。”
摩梯末把报纸叠好，放回口袋去。
“福尔摩斯先生，这些都是众所周知的有关查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士死亡的事实。”
“我真得感谢您，”歇洛克·福尔摩斯说，“能引起我对这件饶有兴趣的案件的注意。 当时我曾读过一些报纸的报导，但那时我正专心致力于梵蒂冈宝石案那件小事，在受着教皇 急迫的嘱托之下竟忽略了在英伦发生的一些案件。您说这段新闻已包括了全部公开的事实 吗？”
“是的。”
“那么再告诉我一些内幕的事实吧！”他靠在椅背上，把两只手的指尖对顶在一起。显 出了他那极为冷静的、法官似的表情。
“这样一来，”摩梯末医生一面说着，一面感情开始激动起来，“就会把我还没有告诉 过任何人的事情都说出来了，我连验尸官都隐瞒了。因为一个从事科学工作的人，最怕在公 众面前显得他似乎是相信了一种流传的迷信。我的另一个动机，就象报纸上所说的那样，如 果有任何事情再进一步恶化它那已经相当可怕的名声，那么巴斯克维尔庄园就真的再不会有 人敢住了。为了这两个原因，我想，不把我知道的全部事情都说出来还是正确的，因为那样 做不会有什么好处，但是对你说来，我没有理由不开诚布公，彻底谈出来。
“沼地上的住户们住得彼此相距都很远，而彼此居住较近的人们就产生了密切的关系。 因此我和查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士见面的机会就很多。除了赖福特庄园的弗兰克兰先生和生 物学家斯台普吞先生而外，方圆数十英里之内就再没有受过教育的人了。查尔兹爵士是一位 喜欢隐居独处的人，可是他的病把我们俩拉到了一起，而且对科学的共同兴趣也大大有助于 使我们两人亲近起来。他从南非带回来很多科学资料，我还常常将整个美好动人的傍晚和他 共同消磨在研讨对布史人［南非一种原始的、以游牧狩猎为生的种族。——译者注］和豪腾 脱人［南非黑人中的一个种族。——译者注］的比较解剖学上。
“在最后的几个月里我看得愈来愈清楚，查尔兹爵士的神经系统已经紧张到极点了。他 深信着我读给你听的那个传说——虽然他经常在自己的宅邸之内散步，但一到晚上就说什么 也不肯到沼地上去了。福尔摩斯先生，在你看来是那样的不可信，可是，他竟深信他的家已 经是厄运临头了。当然，他由上辈得知的传说确实使人不快。可怕的事就要在眼前出现的想 法经常占据着他的身心，他不只一次地问过我，是否在夜间出诊的途中看到过什么奇怪的东 西，或是听见过一只猎狗的嗥叫。后边这个问题他曾问过我好多次，而且总是带着惊慌颤抖 的声调。
“我记得很清楚，有一天傍晚我驾着马车到他家去，那是在这件致命的事情发生以前约 有三个星期的时候。碰巧他正在正厅门前。我已经从我的小马车上下来站在他的面前了，我 忽然看到他的眼里带着极端恐怖的表情，死死地盯视着我的背后。我猛然转过身去，刚刚来 得及看到一个象大牛犊似的黑东西飞快地跑了过去。他惊慌恐怖得那样厉害，我不得不走到 那动物曾经走过的地方四下寻找了一番。它已经跑了。但是，这件事似乎在他心中造成了极 为恶劣的影响。我陪着他呆了一晚，就在那时，为了解释他所表现的情绪，他就把我刚来的 时候读给您听的那篇记载托我保存了。我所以要提到这一小小的插曲，是因为它在随后发生 的悲剧中可能有些重要性，可是在当时，我确实认为那只是一件微不足道的小事，他的惊恐 也是没有来由的。
“还是听从了我的劝告，查尔兹爵士才打算到伦敦去。我知道，他的心脏已经受了影 响，他经常处于焦虑之中，不管其缘由是如何的虚幻，显然已严重地影响了他的健康。我 想，几个月的都市生活就能把他变成一个新人了。我们共同的朋友斯台普吞先生非常关心他 的健康状况，他和我的意见相同。
可是，这可怕的灾祸竟在临行前的最后一刻发生了。
“在查尔兹爵士暴死的当晚，总管白瑞摩发现以后，立刻就派了马夫波金斯骑着马来找 我，因为我就寝很晚，所以在出事后一小时之内我就来到了巴斯克维尔庄园。我验证了所有 在验尸过程中提到过的事实。我顺着水松夹道往前观察了他的脚印，看过了对着沼地的那扇 栅门的地方，看来他曾在那儿等过人，我注意到由那一点以下的足迹形状的变化。我还发现 了，除了白瑞摩在软土地上留下的那些足迹之外没有其他足迹。最后我又细心地检查了尸 体，在我到达以前还没有人动过它。查尔兹爵士趴在地上，两臂伸出，他的手指插在泥土 里；他的面部肌肉因强烈的情感而紧缩起来，甚至使我无法辨认，确实没有任何伤痕。可是 在验尸的时候白瑞摩曾提供了一个不真实的证明。他说在尸体周围的地上没有任何痕迹，他 什么也没有看到。可是，我倒看到了——就在相距不远的地方，不仅清晰而且是痕迹犹 新。”
“足迹？”
“足迹。”
“是男人的还是女人的？”
摩梯末奇怪地望了我们一会儿，在回答的时候，声音低得几乎象耳语一样：“福尔摩斯 先生，是个极大的猎狗的爪印！”
"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 direct line from Hugo Baskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also had it from his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred even as is here set forth. And I would have you believe, my sons, that the same Justice which punishes sin may also most graciously forgive it, and that no ban is so heavy but that by prayer and repentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story not to fear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in the future, that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered so grievously may not again be loosed to our undoing.
"Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the history of which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commend to your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo of that name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane, and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts, but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humour which made his name a byword through the West. It chanced that this Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evil name. So it came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with five or six of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, her father and brothers being from home, as he well knew. When they had brought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom. Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her from below, for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blast the man who said them. At last in the stress of her fear she did that which might have daunted the bravest or most active man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall she came down from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father's farm.
"It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink--with other worse things, perchance--to his captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud before all the company that he would that very night render his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake the wench. And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her. Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.
"Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home.
"They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. 'But I have seen more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.
"The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days.
"Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. If I have set it down it is because that which is clearly known hath less terror than that which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can it be denied that many of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Yet may we shelter ourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence, which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generation which is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my sons, I hereby commend you, and I counsel you by way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours when the powers of evil are exalted.
"(This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth.)"
When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and stared across at Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire.
"Well?" said he.
"Do you not find it interesting?"
"To a collector of fairy tales."
Dr. Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of his pocket.
"Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. This is the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskerville which occurred a few days before that date."
My friend leaned a little forward and his expression became intent. Our visitor readjusted his glasses and began:--
"The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose name has been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county. Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for a comparatively short period his amiability of character and extreme generosity had won the affection and respect of all who had been brought into contact with him. In these days of nouveaux riches it is refreshing to find a case where the scion of an old county family which has fallen upon evil days is able to make his own fortune and to bring it back with him to restore the fallen grandeur of his line. Sir Charles, as is well known, made large sums of money in South African speculation. More wise than those who go on until the wheel turns against them, he realized his gains and returned to England with them. It is only two years since he took up his residence at Baskerville Hall, and it is common talk how large were those schemes of reconstruction and improvement which have been interrupted by his death. Being himself childless, it was his openly expressed desire that the whole country-side should, within his own lifetime, profit by his good fortune, and many will have personal reasons for bewailing his untimely end. His generous donations to local and county charities have been frequently chronicled in these columns.
"The circumstances connected with the death of Sir Charles cannot be said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest, but at least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours to which local superstition has given rise. There is no reason whatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could be from any but natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and a man who may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habit of mind. In spite of his considerable wealth he was simple in his personal tastes, and his indoor servants at Baskerville Hall consisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband acting as butler and the wife as housekeeper. Their evidence, corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that Sir Charles's health has for some time been impaired, and points especially to some affection of the heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and medical attendant of the deceased, has given evidence to the same effect.
"The facts of the case are simple. Sir Charles Baskerville was in the habit every night before going to bed of walking down the famous Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of the Barrymores shows that this had been his custom. On the 4th of May Sir Charles had declared his intention of starting next day for London, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. That night he went out as usual for his nocturnal walk, in the course of which he was in the habit of smoking a cigar. He never returned. At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search of his master. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles's footmarks were easily traced down the Alley. Half-way down this walk there is a gate which leads out on to the moor. There were indications that Sir Charles had stood for some little time here. He then proceeded down the Alley, and it was at the far end of it that his body was discovered. One fact which has not been explained is the statement of Barrymore that his master's footprints altered their character from the time that he passed the moor-gate, and that he appeared from thence onward to have been walking upon his toes. One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no great distance at the time, but he appears by his own confession to have been the worse for drink. He declares that he heard cries, but is unable to state from what direction they came. No signs of violence were to be discovered upon Sir Charles's person, and though the doctor's evidence pointed to an almost incredible facial distortion--so great that Dr. Mortimer refused at first to believe that it was indeed his friend and patient who lay before him--it was explained that that is a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death from cardiac exhaustion. This explanation was borne out by the post-mortem examination, which showed long-standing organic disease, and the coroner's jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of the utmost importance that Sir Charles's heir should settle at the Hall and continue the good work which has been so sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner not finally put an end to the romantic stories which have been whispered in connection with the affair, it might have been difficult to find a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understood that the next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be still alive, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. The young man when last heard of was in America, and inquiries are being instituted with a view to informing him of his good fortune."
Dr. Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket.
"Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, in connection with the death of Sir Charles Baskerville."
"I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for calling my attention to a case which certainly presents some features of interest. I had observed some newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly preoccupied by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting English cases. This article, you say, contains all the public facts?"
"It does."
"Then let me have the private ones." He leaned back, put his finger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicial expression.
"In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs of some strong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided to anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a man of science shrinks from placing himself in the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather less than I knew, since no practical good could result from it, but with you there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank.
"The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near each other are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good deal of Sir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other men of education within many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man, but the chance of his illness brought us together, and a community of interests in science kept us so. He had brought back much scientific information from South Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent together discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the Hottentot.
"Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me that Sir Charles's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. He had taken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart--so much so that, although he would walk in his own grounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhung his family, and certainly the records which he was able to give of his ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presence constantly haunted him, and on more than one occasion he has asked me whether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound. The latter question he put to me several times, and always with a voice which vibrated with excitement.
"I can well remember driving up to his house in the evening some three weeks before the fatal event. He chanced to be at his hall door. I had descended from my gig and was standing in front of him, when I saw his eyes fix themselves over my shoulder, and stare past me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round and had just time to catch a glimpse of something which I took to be a large black calf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was he that I was compelled to go down to the spot where the animal had been and look around for it. It was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make the worst impression upon his mind. I stayed with him all the evening, and it was on that occasion, to explain the emotion which he had shown, that he confided to my keeping that narrative which I read to you when first I came. I mention this small episode because it assumes some importance in view of the tragedy which followed, but I was convinced at the time that the matter was entirely trivial and that his excitement had no justification.
"It was at my advice that Sir Charles was about to go to London. His heart was, I knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in which he lived, however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently having a serious effect upon his health. I thought that a few months among the distractions of town would send him back a new man. Mr. Stapleton, a mutual friend who was much concerned at his state of health, was of the same opinion. At the last instant came this terrible catastrophe.
"On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler, who made the discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I was sitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of the event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentioned at the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the Yew Alley, I saw the spot at the moor-gate where he seemed to have waited, I remarked the change in the shape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were no other footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally I carefully examined the body, which had not been touched until my arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into the ground, and his features convulsed with some strong emotion to such an extent that I could hardly have sworn to his identity. There was certainly no physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made by Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon the ground round the body. He did not observe any. But I did--some little distance off, but fresh and clear."
"Footprints?"
"Footprints."
"A man's or a woman's?"
Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and his voice sank almost to a whisper as he answered:--
"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"
“在您进屋时我就看出来了，”福尔摩斯说。
“是一张旧手稿。”
“是十八世纪初期的，否则就是假造的了。”
“您怎么知道的呢，先生？”
“在您说话的时候，我看到那手稿一直露着一两英寸的光景。如果一位专家不能把一份 文件的时期估计得相差不出十年左右的话，那他就真是一位差劲儿的蹩脚专家了。可能您已 经读过了我写的那篇关于这问题的小论吧。据我判断，这篇手稿是在一七三○年写成的。”
“确切的年代是一七四二年。”摩梯末医生从胸前的口袋里把它掏了出来，“这份祖传 的家书，是查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士交托给我的，三个月前他忽遭惨死，在德文郡引起了很 大的惊恐。可以说，我是他的朋友，同时又是他的医生。他是个意志坚强的人，先生，很敏 锐，经验丰富，并和我一样地讲求实际。他把这份文件看得很认真，他心里早已准备接受这 样的结局了；而结果，他竟真的得到了这样的结局。”
福尔摩斯接过了手稿，把它平铺在膝头上。
“华生，你注意看，长Ｓ和短Ｓ的换用，这就是使我能确定年代的几个特点之一。”
我凑在他的肩后看着那张黄纸和退了色的字迹。顶上写着“巴斯克维尔庄园”，再下面 就是潦草的数字“１７４２”。
“看来好象是一篇什么记载似的。”
“对了，是关于一件在巴斯克维尔家流传的传说。”
“不过我想您来找我恐怕是为了当前的和更有实际意义的事情吧？”
“是近在眼前的事，这是一件最为现实和急迫的事了，必须在二十四小时之内做出决 定。不过这份手稿很短，而且与这件事有着密切联系。如果您允许的话，我就把它读给您 听。”
福尔摩斯靠在椅背上，两手的指尖对顶在一起，闭上了眼睛，显出一副听其自然的神 情。摩梯末将手稿拿向亮处，以高亢而嘶哑的声音朗读着下面的奇特而古老的故事：
“关于巴斯克维尔的猎犬一事有过很多的说法，我所以要写下来是因为我相信确曾发生 过象我所写的这样的事。我是修果·巴斯克维尔的直系后代，这件事是我从我父亲那里听来 的，而我父亲又是直接听我祖父说的。儿子们，但愿你们相信，公正的神明能够惩罚那些有 罪的人，但是只要他们能祈祷悔过，无论犯了多么深重的罪，也都能得到宽恕。你们知道了 这件事，也不用因为前辈们所得的恶果而恐惧，只要自己将来谨慎就可以了，以免咱们这家 族过去所尝到的深重的痛苦重新落在咱们这些败落的后代身上。
“据说是在大叛乱时期［指英国１６４２—１６６０年的内战而言。——译者注］（我 真心地向你们推荐，应该读一读博学的克莱仑顿男爵所写的历史），这所巴斯克维尔大厦本 为修果·巴斯克维尔所占用，无可否认，他是个最卑俗粗野、最目无上帝的人了。事实上， 如果只是这一点的话，乡邻本是可以原谅他的，因为在这一地区圣教从来就没有兴旺过。他 的天性狂妄、残忍，在西部已是家喻户晓了。这位修果先生偶然地爱上了（如果还能用这样 纯洁的字眼称呼他那卑鄙的情欲的话）在巴斯克维尔庄园附近种着几亩地的一个庄稼人的女 儿。可是这位少女一向有着谨言慎行的好名声，当然要躲着他了，何况她还惧怕他的恶名。 后来有一次，在米可摩斯节［教纪念圣徒麦可（Ｓｔ．Ｍｉｃｈａｅｌ）的节日（每年 ９月２９日）。——译者注］那天，这位修果先生知道她的父兄俩都出门去了，就和五六个 游手好闲的下流朋友一起，偷偷地到她家去把这个姑娘抢了回来。他们把她弄进了庄园，关 在楼上的一间小屋子里，修果就和朋友们围坐狂欢痛饮起来，他们在夜里是常常这样干的。 这时，楼上的那位可怜的姑娘听到了楼下狂歌乱吼和那些不堪入耳的脏字，已是惊恐万分不 知所措了。有人说，修果·巴斯克维尔酒醉时所说的那些话，不管是谁，即使是重说一遍都 可能会遭到天谴。最后，她在恐惧已极的情况之下竟干出来一桩就连最勇敢和最狡黠的人都 会为之咋舌的事来。
她从窗口出来，攀缘着至今仍爬满南墙的蔓藤由房檐下面一直爬了下来，然后就穿过沼 地直往家里跑去了，庄园离她家约有九英里的样子。
“过了一会儿，修果离开了客人，带着食物和酒——说不定还有更糟糕的东西呢——就 去找被他掳来的那个姑娘去了，可是竟发现笼中之鸟已经逃走了。随后，他就象中了魔似地 冲下楼来，一到饭厅就跳上了大餐桌，眼前的东西，不管是酒瓶还是木盘全都被他踢飞了。 他在朋友面前大嚷大闹着说：只要当晚他能追上那丫头，他愿把肉体和灵魂全都献给恶魔任 其摆布。当那些纵酒狂饮的浪子们被他的暴怒吓得目瞪口呆的时候，有一个特别凶恶的家伙 ——也许是因为他比别人喝得更醉——大叫着说应当把猎狗都放出去追她。修果听他一说就 跑了出去，高呼马夫牵马备鞍并把犬舍里的狗全都放出来，把那少女丢下的头巾给那些猎狗 闻了闻就把它们一窝蜂地轰了出去，这些狗在一片狂吠声中往被月光照耀着的沼地上狂奔而 去。
“这些浪子们目瞪口呆地站着，不知道这样匆匆忙忙地搞了半天究竟是怎么回事。过了 一会儿他们才弄明白了到沼地里去要干什么，接着又都大喊大叫起来了，有的人喊着要带手 枪，有的人找自己的马，有的人甚至还想再带一瓶酒。最后，他们那疯狂的头脑终于恢复了 一点理智，十三个人全体上马追了下去。头顶上的月亮清清楚楚地照着他们，他们彼此紧靠 一起顺着那少女返家的必经之途疾驰而去。
“在他们跑了一二英里路的时候，遇到了一个沼地里的牧人，他们大喊着问他看到了他 们所追捕的人没有。据说那牧人当时被吓得简直都说不出话来了，后来，他终于说他确实看 到了那个可怜的少女，后面还有一群追索着她的猎狗。‘我看到的还不止这些呢，’他说 道，‘修果·巴斯克维尔也骑着他那黑马从这里过去了，还有一只魔鬼似的大猎狗一声不响 地跟在他的后面。上帝啊，可别让那样的狗跟在我的后面！’那些醉鬼老爷们骂了那牧人一 顿就又骑着马赶了下去。可是不久他们就被吓得浑身发冷了。因为他们听到沼地里传来了马 跑的声音，随后就看到了那匹黑马，嘴里流着白沫跑了过去，鞍上无人，缰绳拖在地上。从 那时起那些浪子们就都挤到了一起，因为他们已经感到万分恐怖了，可是他们总还是在沼地 里前进着。如果他们只是一个人走在那里的话，无疑地早就会拨转马头跑回去了。他们就这 样慢慢地骑着前进，最后终于赶上了那群猎狗。这些狗虽然都是以骁勇和优种出名的，可是 这时竟也挤在沼地里的一条深沟的尽头处，竞相哀鸣起来，有些只已经逃之夭夭了，有些则 颈毛直竖，两眼直瞪瞪地向前面一条窄窄的小沟里望着。
“这帮人勒住了马，可以猜想得到，他们现在已比出发的时候清醒得多了。其中大多数 已经不想再前进了，可是有三个胆子最大的——也许是醉得最厉害的——继续策马向山沟走 了下去。前面出现了一片宽阔的平地，中间立着两根大石柱——至今还可以看到——是古时 不知是谁立起来的。月光把那块空地照得很亮，那因惊恐和疲惫而死的少女就躺在那块空地 的中央。可是使这三个胆大包天的酒鬼毛骨悚然的既不是少女的尸体，也不是躺在她近旁的 修果·巴斯克维尔的尸体，而是站在修果身旁撕扯着他喉咙的那个可怕的东西，一只既大又 黑的畜生，样子象一只猎狗，可是谁也没见过这样大的猎狗。正当他们看着那家伙撕扯修 果·巴斯克维尔的喉咙的时候，它把闪亮的眼睛和直流口涎的大嘴向他们转了过来。三个人 一看就吓得大叫起来，赶忙拨转马头逃命去了，甚至在穿过沼地的时候还惊呼不已。据说其 中的一个因为看到了那家伙当晚就吓死了，另外两个也落得个终身精神失常。
“我的儿子们啊，这就是那只猎狗的传说的来历，据说从那时起那只狗就一直可怕地骚 扰着咱们的家族。我所以要把它写下来，还因为我觉得：随便听到的东西和猜测的东西要比 知道得清清楚楚的东西可怕得多。不可否认，在咱家的人里，有许多都是未得善终的，死得 突然、凄惨而又神秘。但愿能得上帝无边慈爱的庇护，不致降罚于我等三代以至四代唯圣经 是听的人们。我的儿子们，我借上帝之名命令你们，并且劝你们要多加小心，千万要避免在 黑夜降临、罪恶势力嚣张的时候走过沼地。
“〔这是修果·巴斯克维尔［此修果·巴斯克维尔为这篇家书开头所提到之修果·巴斯 克维尔之同名后代。——译者注］留给两个儿子罗杰和约翰的家书，并敦嘱二人万勿将此事 告知其姊伊莉莎白。〕”
摩梯末医生读完了这篇怪异的记载之后就把眼镜推上了前额，直望着歇洛克·福尔摩 斯。福尔摩斯打完呵欠就把烟头扔进了炉火。
“嗯？”他说。
“您不觉得很有趣味吗？”
“对一个搜集神话的人来说，是很有趣味的。”
摩梯末医生从衣袋里掏出来一张折叠着的报纸。
“福尔摩斯先生，现在我要告诉您一件发生时间较近的事。这是一张今年五月十四日的 《德文郡纪事报》。是一篇有关几天前查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士死亡的简短叙述。”
我的朋友上身稍向前倾，神色也变得专注起来。
我们的来客重新放好了眼镜，又开始读了起来：
“最近，查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士之暴卒，使本郡不胜哀悼。据云，在下届选举中，此 人可能被选为中部德文郡自由党候选人。虽然查尔兹爵士在巴斯克维尔庄园居住不久，但其 厚道与慷慨已深得周围群众之敬爱。值此暴发户充斥之时，如查尔兹这样一支名门之后，竟 能致富还乡，重振因厄运而中衰之家声，诚为可喜之事。众所周知之查尔兹爵士曾在南非投 机致富。但他较之一直于到倒霉为止的人们聪明，他带着变卖了的资财返回英伦。他来到巴 斯克维尔庄园不过两年，人们普遍在谈论着他那庞大的重建和修幕的计划，然此计划已因其 本人逝世而中断。因他并无子嗣，他曾公开表示，在他有生之日整个乡区将得到他的资助， 因此，有很多人都悲悼他的暴亡。至于他对本地及郡慈善机关的慷慨捐输，本栏曾常有登 载。
“验尸之结果尚未能将与查尔兹爵士之死亡相关之诸情况弄清，至少尚未能消除由于当 地之迷信所引起之诸种谣传。毫无理由怀疑有任何犯罪成分，或想象死亡并非由于自然原 因。查尔兹爵士为鳏夫，据说他在某些方面表现精神状态有些反常。他虽有如许财产，但个 人所好却很简单。巴斯克维尔庄园中之仆人只有白瑞摩夫妇二人，丈夫是总管，妻子当管家 妇。他们的已被几个朋友证实了的证词说明：查尔兹爵士曾有健康情况不良之征象，尤其是 几点心脏症状；表现在面色改变、呼吸困难和严重的神经衰弱。死者的朋友和私人医生杰姆 士·摩梯未也提供了同样的证明。
“案件实情甚为简单。查尔兹·巴斯克维尔有一种习惯，每晚在就寝前，须沿巴斯克维 尔庄园出名之水松夹道散步。白瑞摩夫妇的证词说明死者之习惯确是如此。五月四日，查尔 兹爵士曾声称他第二天想去伦敦，并曾命白瑞摩为他准备行李。当晚他照常出去作晚间散 步，他常吸着雪茄散步，可是他再也没有回来。在十二点钟的时候，白瑞摩发现厅门还开 着，他吃了一惊，于是就点了灯笼，出去寻找主人。当时外面很潮湿，所以沿着夹道下去很 容易看到爵士的足迹，小路的中间有个通向沼地的栅门。种种迹象都说明查尔兹爵士曾站在 门前，然后他就沿着夹道走了下去，他的尸体就是在夹道的末端被发现的。有一件尚未得到 解释的事实就是：白瑞摩说，他主人的足迹在过了通往沼地的栅门后就变了样，好象是从那 以后就换用足尖走路了。有一个叫作摩菲的吉卜赛马贩子，当时正在沼地里距出事地点不远 的地方，可是他自己承认当时酒醉得很厉害。他说他曾听到过呼喊声，但说不清是来自哪 方。在查尔兹爵士身上找不出遭受暴力袭击的痕迹，可是医生的证明中曾指出面容变形到几 乎难以相信的程度的、躺在他面前的就是他的朋友和病人的尸体——据解释说，这是一种在 因呼吸困难和心脏衰竭而死的时候常有的现象。这一解释已为尸体解剖所证明，说明存在着 由来已久的官能上的病症。法院验尸官也缴呈了一份与医生证明相符的判断书。如此结束究 属妥善，因查尔兹爵士之后代仍将在庄园居住，并将继续不幸为之中断的善行，因此，显然 此点具有极端重要性，如验尸官平凡的发现不能最后扑灭那些邻里相传的有关此事的荒诞故 事，则欲为巴斯克维尔庄园找个住户就很困难了。据了解，如果说爵士还有活着的最近的亲 属的话，那就是他弟弟的儿子亨利·巴斯克维尔先生了。以前曾听说这位年轻人在美洲。现 已进行调查，以便通知他来接受这笔为数庞大的财产。”
摩梯末把报纸叠好，放回口袋去。
“福尔摩斯先生，这些都是众所周知的有关查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士死亡的事实。”
“我真得感谢您，”歇洛克·福尔摩斯说，“能引起我对这件饶有兴趣的案件的注意。 当时我曾读过一些报纸的报导，但那时我正专心致力于梵蒂冈宝石案那件小事，在受着教皇 急迫的嘱托之下竟忽略了在英伦发生的一些案件。您说这段新闻已包括了全部公开的事实 吗？”
“是的。”
“那么再告诉我一些内幕的事实吧！”他靠在椅背上，把两只手的指尖对顶在一起。显 出了他那极为冷静的、法官似的表情。
“这样一来，”摩梯末医生一面说着，一面感情开始激动起来，“就会把我还没有告诉 过任何人的事情都说出来了，我连验尸官都隐瞒了。因为一个从事科学工作的人，最怕在公 众面前显得他似乎是相信了一种流传的迷信。我的另一个动机，就象报纸上所说的那样，如 果有任何事情再进一步恶化它那已经相当可怕的名声，那么巴斯克维尔庄园就真的再不会有 人敢住了。为了这两个原因，我想，不把我知道的全部事情都说出来还是正确的，因为那样 做不会有什么好处，但是对你说来，我没有理由不开诚布公，彻底谈出来。
“沼地上的住户们住得彼此相距都很远，而彼此居住较近的人们就产生了密切的关系。 因此我和查尔兹·巴斯克维尔爵士见面的机会就很多。除了赖福特庄园的弗兰克兰先生和生 物学家斯台普吞先生而外，方圆数十英里之内就再没有受过教育的人了。查尔兹爵士是一位 喜欢隐居独处的人，可是他的病把我们俩拉到了一起，而且对科学的共同兴趣也大大有助于 使我们两人亲近起来。他从南非带回来很多科学资料，我还常常将整个美好动人的傍晚和他 共同消磨在研讨对布史人［南非一种原始的、以游牧狩猎为生的种族。——译者注］和豪腾 脱人［南非黑人中的一个种族。——译者注］的比较解剖学上。
“在最后的几个月里我看得愈来愈清楚，查尔兹爵士的神经系统已经紧张到极点了。他 深信着我读给你听的那个传说——虽然他经常在自己的宅邸之内散步，但一到晚上就说什么 也不肯到沼地上去了。福尔摩斯先生，在你看来是那样的不可信，可是，他竟深信他的家已 经是厄运临头了。当然，他由上辈得知的传说确实使人不快。可怕的事就要在眼前出现的想 法经常占据着他的身心，他不只一次地问过我，是否在夜间出诊的途中看到过什么奇怪的东 西，或是听见过一只猎狗的嗥叫。后边这个问题他曾问过我好多次，而且总是带着惊慌颤抖 的声调。
“我记得很清楚，有一天傍晚我驾着马车到他家去，那是在这件致命的事情发生以前约 有三个星期的时候。碰巧他正在正厅门前。我已经从我的小马车上下来站在他的面前了，我 忽然看到他的眼里带着极端恐怖的表情，死死地盯视着我的背后。我猛然转过身去，刚刚来 得及看到一个象大牛犊似的黑东西飞快地跑了过去。他惊慌恐怖得那样厉害，我不得不走到 那动物曾经走过的地方四下寻找了一番。它已经跑了。但是，这件事似乎在他心中造成了极 为恶劣的影响。我陪着他呆了一晚，就在那时，为了解释他所表现的情绪，他就把我刚来的 时候读给您听的那篇记载托我保存了。我所以要提到这一小小的插曲，是因为它在随后发生 的悲剧中可能有些重要性，可是在当时，我确实认为那只是一件微不足道的小事，他的惊恐 也是没有来由的。
“还是听从了我的劝告，查尔兹爵士才打算到伦敦去。我知道，他的心脏已经受了影 响，他经常处于焦虑之中，不管其缘由是如何的虚幻，显然已严重地影响了他的健康。我 想，几个月的都市生活就能把他变成一个新人了。我们共同的朋友斯台普吞先生非常关心他 的健康状况，他和我的意见相同。
可是，这可怕的灾祸竟在临行前的最后一刻发生了。
“在查尔兹爵士暴死的当晚，总管白瑞摩发现以后，立刻就派了马夫波金斯骑着马来找 我，因为我就寝很晚，所以在出事后一小时之内我就来到了巴斯克维尔庄园。我验证了所有 在验尸过程中提到过的事实。我顺着水松夹道往前观察了他的脚印，看过了对着沼地的那扇 栅门的地方，看来他曾在那儿等过人，我注意到由那一点以下的足迹形状的变化。我还发现 了，除了白瑞摩在软土地上留下的那些足迹之外没有其他足迹。最后我又细心地检查了尸 体，在我到达以前还没有人动过它。查尔兹爵士趴在地上，两臂伸出，他的手指插在泥土 里；他的面部肌肉因强烈的情感而紧缩起来，甚至使我无法辨认，确实没有任何伤痕。可是 在验尸的时候白瑞摩曾提供了一个不真实的证明。他说在尸体周围的地上没有任何痕迹，他 什么也没有看到。可是，我倒看到了——就在相距不远的地方，不仅清晰而且是痕迹犹 新。”
“足迹？”
“足迹。”
“是男人的还是女人的？”
摩梯末奇怪地望了我们一会儿，在回答的时候，声音低得几乎象耳语一样：“福尔摩斯 先生，是个极大的猎狗的爪印！”
"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 direct line from Hugo Baskerville, and as I had the story from my father, who also had it from his, I have set it down with all belief that it occurred even as is here set forth. And I would have you believe, my sons, that the same Justice which punishes sin may also most graciously forgive it, and that no ban is so heavy but that by prayer and repentance it may be removed. Learn then from this story not to fear the fruits of the past, but rather to be circumspect in the future, that those foul passions whereby our family has suffered so grievously may not again be loosed to our undoing.
"Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the history of which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commend to your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo of that name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane, and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts, but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humour which made his name a byword through the West. It chanced that this Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evil name. So it came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with five or six of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, her father and brothers being from home, as he well knew. When they had brought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom. Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her from below, for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blast the man who said them. At last in the stress of her fear she did that which might have daunted the bravest or most active man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall she came down from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father's farm.
"It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink--with other worse things, perchance--to his captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud before all the company that he would that very night render his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake the wench. And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her. Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid's, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.
"Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home.
"They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. 'But I have seen more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.' So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.
"The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three daredevil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days.
"Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the family so sorely ever since. If I have set it down it is because that which is clearly known hath less terror than that which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can it be denied that many of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious. Yet may we shelter ourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence, which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generation which is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my sons, I hereby commend you, and I counsel you by way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours when the powers of evil are exalted.
"(This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, with instructions that they say nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth.)"
When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and stared across at Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The latter yawned and tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire.
"Well?" said he.
"Do you not find it interesting?"
"To a collector of fairy tales."
Dr. Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of his pocket.
"Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. This is the Devon County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the death of Sir Charles Baskerville which occurred a few days before that date."
My friend leaned a little forward and his expression became intent. Our visitor readjusted his glasses and began:--
"The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose name has been mentioned as the probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over the county. Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for a comparatively short period his amiability of character and extreme generosity had won the affection and respect of all who had been brought into contact with him. In these days of nouveaux riches it is refreshing to find a case where the scion of an old county family which has fallen upon evil days is able to make his own fortune and to bring it back with him to restore the fallen grandeur of his line. Sir Charles, as is well known, made large sums of money in South African speculation. More wise than those who go on until the wheel turns against them, he realized his gains and returned to England with them. It is only two years since he took up his residence at Baskerville Hall, and it is common talk how large were those schemes of reconstruction and improvement which have been interrupted by his death. Being himself childless, it was his openly expressed desire that the whole country-side should, within his own lifetime, profit by his good fortune, and many will have personal reasons for bewailing his untimely end. His generous donations to local and county charities have been frequently chronicled in these columns.
"The circumstances connected with the death of Sir Charles cannot be said to have been entirely cleared up by the inquest, but at least enough has been done to dispose of those rumours to which local superstition has given rise. There is no reason whatever to suspect foul play, or to imagine that death could be from any but natural causes. Sir Charles was a widower, and a man who may be said to have been in some ways of an eccentric habit of mind. In spite of his considerable wealth he was simple in his personal tastes, and his indoor servants at Baskerville Hall consisted of a married couple named Barrymore, the husband acting as butler and the wife as housekeeper. Their evidence, corroborated by that of several friends, tends to show that Sir Charles's health has for some time been impaired, and points especially to some affection of the heart, manifesting itself in changes of colour, breathlessness, and acute attacks of nervous depression. Dr. James Mortimer, the friend and medical attendant of the deceased, has given evidence to the same effect.
"The facts of the case are simple. Sir Charles Baskerville was in the habit every night before going to bed of walking down the famous Yew Alley of Baskerville Hall. The evidence of the Barrymores shows that this had been his custom. On the 4th of May Sir Charles had declared his intention of starting next day for London, and had ordered Barrymore to prepare his luggage. That night he went out as usual for his nocturnal walk, in the course of which he was in the habit of smoking a cigar. He never returned. At twelve o'clock Barrymore, finding the hall door still open, became alarmed, and, lighting a lantern, went in search of his master. The day had been wet, and Sir Charles's footmarks were easily traced down the Alley. Half-way down this walk there is a gate which leads out on to the moor. There were indications that Sir Charles had stood for some little time here. He then proceeded down the Alley, and it was at the far end of it that his body was discovered. One fact which has not been explained is the statement of Barrymore that his master's footprints altered their character from the time that he passed the moor-gate, and that he appeared from thence onward to have been walking upon his toes. One Murphy, a gipsy horse-dealer, was on the moor at no great distance at the time, but he appears by his own confession to have been the worse for drink. He declares that he heard cries, but is unable to state from what direction they came. No signs of violence were to be discovered upon Sir Charles's person, and though the doctor's evidence pointed to an almost incredible facial distortion--so great that Dr. Mortimer refused at first to believe that it was indeed his friend and patient who lay before him--it was explained that that is a symptom which is not unusual in cases of dyspnoea and death from cardiac exhaustion. This explanation was borne out by the post-mortem examination, which showed long-standing organic disease, and the coroner's jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence. It is well that this is so, for it is obviously of the utmost importance that Sir Charles's heir should settle at the Hall and continue the good work which has been so sadly interrupted. Had the prosaic finding of the coroner not finally put an end to the romantic stories which have been whispered in connection with the affair, it might have been difficult to find a tenant for Baskerville Hall. It is understood that the next of kin is Mr. Henry Baskerville, if he be still alive, the son of Sir Charles Baskerville's younger brother. The young man when last heard of was in America, and inquiries are being instituted with a view to informing him of his good fortune."
Dr. Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket.
"Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, in connection with the death of Sir Charles Baskerville."
"I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for calling my attention to a case which certainly presents some features of interest. I had observed some newspaper comment at the time, but I was exceedingly preoccupied by that little affair of the Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch with several interesting English cases. This article, you say, contains all the public facts?"
"It does."
"Then let me have the private ones." He leaned back, put his finger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicial expression.
"In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs of some strong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided to anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's inquiry is that a man of science shrinks from placing himself in the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition. I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper says, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these reasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather less than I knew, since no practical good could result from it, but with you there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank.
"The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near each other are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a good deal of Sir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist, there are no other men of education within many miles. Sir Charles was a retiring man, but the chance of his illness brought us together, and a community of interests in science kept us so. He had brought back much scientific information from South Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent together discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the Hottentot.
"Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me that Sir Charles's nervous system was strained to the breaking point. He had taken this legend which I have read you exceedingly to heart--so much so that, although he would walk in his own grounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at night. Incredible as it may appear to you, Mr. Holmes, he was honestly convinced that a dreadful fate overhung his family, and certainly the records which he was able to give of his ancestors were not encouraging. The idea of some ghastly presence constantly haunted him, and on more than one occasion he has asked me whether I had on my medical journeys at night ever seen any strange creature or heard the baying of a hound. The latter question he put to me several times, and always with a voice which vibrated with excitement.
"I can well remember driving up to his house in the evening some three weeks before the fatal event. He chanced to be at his hall door. I had descended from my gig and was standing in front of him, when I saw his eyes fix themselves over my shoulder, and stare past me with an expression of the most dreadful horror. I whisked round and had just time to catch a glimpse of something which I took to be a large black calf passing at the head of the drive. So excited and alarmed was he that I was compelled to go down to the spot where the animal had been and look around for it. It was gone, however, and the incident appeared to make the worst impression upon his mind. I stayed with him all the evening, and it was on that occasion, to explain the emotion which he had shown, that he confided to my keeping that narrative which I read to you when first I came. I mention this small episode because it assumes some importance in view of the tragedy which followed, but I was convinced at the time that the matter was entirely trivial and that his excitement had no justification.
"It was at my advice that Sir Charles was about to go to London. His heart was, I knew, affected, and the constant anxiety in which he lived, however chimerical the cause of it might be, was evidently having a serious effect upon his health. I thought that a few months among the distractions of town would send him back a new man. Mr. Stapleton, a mutual friend who was much concerned at his state of health, was of the same opinion. At the last instant came this terrible catastrophe.
"On the night of Sir Charles's death Barrymore the butler, who made the discovery, sent Perkins the groom on horseback to me, and as I was sitting up late I was able to reach Baskerville Hall within an hour of the event. I checked and corroborated all the facts which were mentioned at the inquest. I followed the footsteps down the Yew Alley, I saw the spot at the moor-gate where he seemed to have waited, I remarked the change in the shape of the prints after that point, I noted that there were no other footsteps save those of Barrymore on the soft gravel, and finally I carefully examined the body, which had not been touched until my arrival. Sir Charles lay on his face, his arms out, his fingers dug into the ground, and his features convulsed with some strong emotion to such an extent that I could hardly have sworn to his identity. There was certainly no physical injury of any kind. But one false statement was made by Barrymore at the inquest. He said that there were no traces upon the ground round the body. He did not observe any. But I did--some little distance off, but fresh and clear."
"Footprints?"
"Footprints."
"A man's or a woman's?"
Dr. Mortimer looked strangely at us for an instant, and his voice sank almost to a whisper as he answered:--
"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"