"And he made you swear to say nothing about your appointment with Sir Charles?"
"He did.
He said that the death was a very mysterious one, and that I should certainly be suspected if the facts came out.
He frightened me into remaining silent."
"Quite so.
But you had your suspicions?"
She hesitated and looked down.
"I knew him," she said.
"But if he had kept faith with me I should always have done so with him."
"I think that on the whole you have had a fortunate escape," said Sherlock Holmes.
"You have had him in your power and he knew it, and yet you are alive.
You have been walking for some months very near to the edge of a precipice.
We must wish you good-morning now, Mrs. Lyons, and it is probable that you will very shortly hear from us again."
"Our case becomes rounded off, and difficulty after difficulty thins away in front of us," said Holmes as we stood waiting for the arrival of the express from town.
"I shall soon be in the position of being able to put into a single connected narrative one of the most singular and sensational crimes of modern times.
Students of criminology will remember the analogous incidents in Godno, in Little Russia, in the year '66, and of course there are the Anderson murders in North Carolina, but this case possesses some features which are entirely its own.
Even now we have no clear case against this very wily man.
But I shall be very much surprised if it is not clear enough before we go to bed this night. "
The London express came roaring into the station, and a small, wiry bulldog of a man had sprung from a first-class carriage.
We all three shook hands, and I saw at once from the reverential way in which Lestrade gazed at my companion that he had learned a good deal since the days when they had first worked together.
I could well remember the scorn which the theories of the reasoner used then to excite in the practical man.
"Anything good?" he asked.
"The biggest thing for years," said Holmes.
"We have two hours before we need think of starting.
I think we might employ it in getting some dinner and then, Lestrade, we will take the London fog out of your throat by giving you a breath of the pure night air of Dartmoor.
Never been there?
Ah, well, I don't suppose you will forget your first visit."
Chapter 14 – The Hound of the Baskervilles
One of Sherlock Holmes's defects – if, indeed, one may call it a defect – was that he was exceedingly loath to communicate his full plans to any other person until the instant of their fulfilment.
Partly it came no doubt from his own masterful nature, which loved to dominate and surprise those who were around him. Partly also from his professional caution, which urged him never to take any chances.
The result, however, was very trying for those who were acting as his agents and assistants.
I had often suffered under it, but never more so than during that long drive in the darkness.
The great ordeal was in front of us; at last we were about to make our final effort, and yet Holmes had said nothing, and I could only surmise what his course of action would be.
My nerves thrilled with anticipation when at last the cold wind upon our faces and the dark, void spaces on either side of the narrow road told me that we were back upon the moor once again.
Every stride of the horses and every turn of the wheels was taking us nearer to our supreme adventure.
Our conversation was hampered by the presence of the driver of the hired wagonette, so that we were forced to talk of trivial matters when our nerves were tense with emotion and anticipation.
It was a relief to me, after that unnatural restraint, when we at last passed Frankland's house and knew that we were drawing near to the Hall and to the scene of action.
We did not drive up to the door but got down near the gate of the avenue. The wagonette was paid off and ordered to return to Coombe Tracey forthwith, while we started to walk to Merripit House.
"Are you armed, Lestrade?"
The little detective smiled.
"As long as I have my trousers I have a hip-pocket, and as long as I have my hip-pocket I have something in it."
"Good!
My friend and I are also ready for emergencies."
"You're mighty close about this affair, Mr. Holmes.
What's the game now?"
"A waiting game."
"My word, it does not seem a very cheerful place," said the detective with a shiver, glancing round him at the gloomy slopes of the hill and at the huge lake of fog which lay over the Grimpen Mire.
"I see the lights of a house ahead of us."
"That is Merripit House and the end of our journey.
I must request you to walk on tiptoe and not to talk above a whisper."