SHERLOCK HOLMES: Novels & Short Stories (48 Titles in One Edition). Артур Конан Дойл

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      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 by-word 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

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