The Hound of the Baskervilles
A book by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
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Hunden fra Baskerville
The Hound of the Baskervilles
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Første kapitel. Sherlock Holmes.
Chapter 1 Mr. Sherlock Holmes
HOLMES, som vanligvis var meget sent oppe om morgenen, untatt i de ikke sjeldne tilfellene da han var oppe hele natten — satt ved frokostbordet. Jeg stod på kaminteppet og tok opp stokken som vår gjest den foregående aften hadde etterlatt seg. Den var forarbeidet av vakkert, fast tre, og hadde et løkformet hode. Like under håndtaket gikk et nesten tommebredt sølvbånd. Til doktor James Mortimer fra hans venner i C. C. H. var inngravert på båndet sammen med årstallet 1884. Det var nettopp en slik stokk som eldre husleger pleier å ha med seg — respektabel, solid og anselig.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before. It was a fine, thick piece of wood, bulbous-headed, of the sort which is known as a "Penang lawyer." Just under the head was a broad silver band nearly an inch across. "To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., from his friends of the C.C.H.," was engraved upon it, with the date "1884." It was just such a stick as the old-fashioned family practitioner used to carry--dignified, solid, and reassuring.
“ Nå, Watson, hva får De ut av den ? ”
"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."
“ Jeg har i alle fall vår blankpussede sølvkaffekanne foran meg, ” sa han. “ Men, si meg, Watson, hva får De ut av stokken ? Siden vi har vært så uheldige at eiermannen er blitt borte for oss, og vi ikke vet noe om hans ærende, får dette tilfeldige etterlatenskap betydning. La meg høre hvordan De ser for Dem mannen etter å ha undersøkt hans stokk. ”
"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."
“ Godt ! ” sa Holmes. “ Utmerket ! ”
"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."
“Hvorfor det?”
"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."
“ Nokså fornuftig ! ” sa Holmes.
"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."
“ De overgår virkelig Dem selv, Watson, ” sa Holmes, skjøv stolen tilbake og tente en sigarett. “ Jeg må si at De i alle de fortellingene som De har vært så vennlig å gi om mine små foretagender, har hatt for vane å underordne Deres egen dyktighet. Det kan nok være at De ikke er selvlysende, men De er allikevel en lysbringer. Noen mennesker har, uten selv å være genier, en merkelig evne til å fremme geniet hos andre. Jeg innrømmer, kjære venn, at jeg står i stor gjeld til Dem. ”
"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."
Han hadde aldri før sagt så mye, og jeg må tilstå at hans ord gledet meg mye, siden jeg hadde ofte følt meg støtt over hvor likegyldig han var for min beundring og de forsøk jeg hadde gjort på å få hans fremgangsmåter offentlig kjent. Jeg var også stolt ved tanken på at jeg i den grad hadde tilegnet meg hans system at jeg kunne anvende det på en måte som vakte hans bifall. Han tok nå stokken fra meg og undersøkte den i noen minutter med blotte øyne. Deretter la han med en interessert mine sigaretten vekk, tok stokken bort til vinduet og betraktet den igjen nøye gjennom en lupe.
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?"
“ Jeg er redd, kjære Watson, at de fleste av Deres slutninger er feil. Når jeg sa at De ansporet meg, mente jeg ærlig talt at ved å merke meg Deres feiltagelser er jeg av og til ledet på rett vei. Ikke så å forstå at De i dette tilfelle har urett i alle Deres slutninger. Mannen er sikkert landslege. Og han ferdes også meget til fots. ”
"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."
“ Altså har jeg rett ? ”
"Then I was right."
“For så vidt.”
"To that extent."
“ Men det er jo det hele. ”
"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."
“ De har muligens rett. ”
"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!"
“ Jeg kan kun tenke meg den innlysende slutning at mannen har praktisert i en by før han tok ut på landet. ”
"I can only think of the obvious conclusion that the man has practised in town before going to the country."
“ Jeg tenker vi kan våge oss litt videre enn det. Se saken i dette lys: Ved hvilken anledning ville det være mest sannsynligs at en slik gave ble skjenket ? Når ville vennene hans gå sammen om å gi ham et bevis på sin velvilje ? Tydeligvis i det øyeblikk da Mortimer trakk seg tilbake fra sykehusets tjeneste for å begynne egen praksis. Vi vet at det er en gave. Vi tror der har vært en overgang fra bysykehus til landpraksis. Er det da å trekke en for vidtgående slutning å si at gaven ble overrakt ved denne overgangen ? ”
"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?"
“ Det synes ganske visst sannsynlig. ”
"It certainly seems probable."
“ Nå, De vil legge merke til at han ikke kunne ha tilhørt sykehusets legestab, da bare en mann med god praksis i London kunne inneha en slik stilling, og en slik mann ville ikke ta ut på landet. Hva var han så ? Dersom han har oppholdt seg en tid ved sykehuset, har han ikke tilhørt den fast ansatte legestab, men snarere vært der som kandidat eller som reservelege, noe som ikke er synderlig mer enn en viderekommen medisinsk student. Og han har forlatt sykehuset for fem år siden — årstallet står på stokken. Således blir Deres verdige, middelaldrende huslege til tynn luft, min kjære Watson, og det fremstår en ung mann på under tredve år, elskverdig, ikke ærgjerrig, åndsfraværende, og eier av en yndlingshund som jeg omtrentlig anslår å være større enn en terrier men mindre enn en dogge. ”
"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.
“ Hva det siste angår kan jeg ikke motbevise Dem, ” sa jeg, “ men det er i alle fall ikke vanskelig å finne noen opplysninger om mannens alder og embedskarriere. ” Fra min lille hylle med medisinske verk tok jeg ut legekalenderen og slo opp navnet. Der var flere Mortimere, men bare en som kunne være vår gjest. Jeg leste opp hans personalia:
"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, cand. med 1882, Grimpen, Dartmoor, Devon. Reservelege fra 1882 til 1884 ved Charing Cross Hospital. Vinner av Jacksons pris for sammenlignende patologi med en avhandling med tittel: “ Er sykdom arvelig ? ” Korresponderende medlem av det svenske patologiske selskap. Forfatter av “ Noen trekk av atavismen ” (Lancet, 1882 ), “ Gjør vi fremskritt ? ” (Journal of Psychology, marts 1883 ). Distriktslege i Grimpen, Thorsby og High Barrow-sogn. ”
"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."
“ Det nevnes ingen ting om harejakt, Watson, ” sa Holmes med et litt onskapsfullt smil, “ men om en landslege som De meget sinnrikt bemerket. Jeg tenker jeg har fått temmelig rett i mine formodninger. Med hensyn til hans egenskaper nevnte jeg elskverdig, ikke ærgjerrig og åndsfraværende, om jeg ikke husker feil. Det er min erfaring at bare elskverdige mennesker i denne verden får vennegaver, at bare folk uten ærgjerrighet forlater en karriere i London for å dra ut på landet, og at bare en åndsfraværende mann etterlater stokken sin i stedet for sitt visittkort etter at han har sittet og ventet en time på Deres værelse. ”
"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."
“Og hunden?”
"And the dog?"
“ Har vært vant til å bære stokken etter sin herre. Siden stokken er tung, har hunden holdt den godt fast på midten, og merkene etter tennene er meget tydelige. Hundens kjeve, slik som den viser seg ved mellomrommet mellom disse merkene, er etter min mening for bred for en terrier men ikke bred nok for en dogge. Det må ha vært — ved Jupiter — er det ikke en krøllhåret bologneser ! ”
"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?"
“ Av den enkle grunn at jeg ser hunden selv ved min egen gatedør, og der ringer eieren på. Gå endelig ikke, Watson. Han er en kollega av Dem, og Deres nærvær kan være meg til hjelp. Nå, når De hører skritt i trappen, inntrer det dramatiske øyeblikk i Deres liv, Watson, og De vet ikke enten for det gode eller onde. Hva vil vitenskapsmannen doktor James Mortimer hos forbryterspesialisten Sherlock Holmes ? Kom inn ! ”
"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!"
Det ytre ved vår gjest overrasket meg, ettersom jeg hadde forestillet meg en typisk landslege. Det var en meget høy, tynn mann med en lang nese; den stakk ut som et nebb mellom to skarpe, grå, tettsittende øyne som kastet funklende glimt bak gullbrillene. Han var kledt som en alminnelig lege, men litt sjusket; frakken hadde flekker, og buksene hadde frynset seg nedentil. Skjønt ung, var den lange ryggen allerede bøyd; han gikk med hodet fremstrakt og med et stadig plirende, velvillig uttrykk i sitt ansikt. I det han trådte inn, falt hans øyne på stokken, og med et uttrykk av glede sa han: “ Jeg er så glad. Jeg var ikke sikker på om jeg hadde lagt den fra meg her eller på dampskipskontoret. Jeg ville ikke miste denne stokken for alt i verden. ”
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.
“Ja.”
"Yes, sir."
“Fra Charing Cross sykehuset?”
"From Charing Cross Hospital?"
“Fra et par venner der i anledning mitt bryllup.”
"From one or two friends there on the occasion of my marriage."
"Dear, dear, that's bad!" said Holmes, shaking his head.
Doktor Mortimer sendte ham et mildt forbauset blikk gjennom brillene.
Dr. Mortimer blinked through his glasses in mild astonishment.
“ Hvorfor var det ergerlig ? ”
"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."
“Dog åpenbart en mann med grundig viten?”
"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 ------"
“ Nei, dette er min venn, doktor Watson. ”
"No, this is my friend Dr. Watson."
“ Gleder meg å gjøre Deres bekjentskap. Jeg har hørt Deres navn i forbindelse med Deres venns. De interesserer meg meget, hr. Holmes. Jeg hadde ikke forestilt meg en så langhodet skalle eller en så sterkt hvelvet form. Har De noe i mot, at jeg lar mine fingre gli over Deres isseben ? En avstøpning av Deres hodeskalle ville, inntil originalen kan skaffes, være en pryd for et hvert antropologisk museum. Det er ikke min mening å si komplimenter, men jeg tilstår at jeg har stor lyst på Deres hjerneskalle. ”
"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.
“ For en mann med strengt vitenskapelig oppfatning virker monsieur Bertillons fremgangsmåte høyst tiltalende. ”
"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."
Andet kapitel. Baskervilles forbandelse
Chapter 2 The Curse of the Baskervilles
"I have in my pocket a manuscript," said Dr. James Mortimer.
"I observed it as you entered the room," said Holmes.
“ Det er et gammelt manuskript — ”
"It is an old manuscript."
“ Fra begynnelsen av det attende århundrede, hvis det ikke er et falskneri. ”
"Early eighteenth century, unless it is a forgery."
"How can you say that, sir?"
“ De har latt et par tommer av det stikke frem, så jeg har kunnet studere det hele tiden mens De har snakket. Det ville være en dårlig spesialist som ikke kunne angi dokumentets alder på et tiår nær eller så. De har muligens lest min lille avhandling om dette emnet ? Jeg setter årstallet til 1730. ”
"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."
“ Det nøyaktige årstall er 1742. ” Doktor Mortimer trakk det frem av brystlommen. “ Dette familiedokumentet ble overgitt til min varetekt av sir Charles Baskerville hvis plutselige og sørgelige død for et kvart år siden vakte så stor oppsikt i Devonshire. Jeg tør kalle meg hans personlige venn så vel som hans lege. Han var en åndskraftig mann, skarp, praktisk og like så lite overtroisk som jeg selv. Allikevel tok han dette papiret meget alvorlig, og han var forberedt på å dø nettopp på den måten som det ble hans skjebne. ”
"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:--
“ Om opprinnelsen til hunden fra Baskerville herregård har der gått mange beretninger; men da jeg nedstammer i direkte linje fra Hugo Baskerville, og da jeg har historien fra min far, og denne hadde den fra sin, nedskriver jeg den i full forvissning om at det er gått til som her berettes. Og jeg vil, at I, mine sønner, skal tro at den rettferdighet som straffer synden, også nådig tilgir den, og at ingen forbannelse er så tung at den ikke ved bønn og anger kan oppheves. Lær av denne beretning ikke å frykte følgene av fortidens synder, men heller å være forsiktig i fremtiden, så at de uhyggelige lidenskaper som vår slekt har lidt så tungt under, ikke atter må slippes løs til vårt forderv.
"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.
I må da vite, at på det store opprørs tid (hvis historie, forfattet av den lærde lord Clarendon, jeg på det mest inntrengende vil henlede eders oppmerksomhet på ) het eiermannen av dette gods Hugo Baskerville; det kan ikke nektes at han var en såre vill, verdslig og gudløs mann. Dette kunne visselig hans naboer ha tilgitt, ettersom helgener aldri har trivedes i disse egne; men han besatt et utøylet og grusomt sinn som gjorde hans navn til et ordspråk her vesterpå. Så hendte det seg at denne Hugo falt i elskov — om virkelig en så mørk lidenskap kan nevnes med et så lyst navn — til en datter av en bonde som eiet en gård i nærheten av Baskerville herregård. Men den unge jomfru, som var dydig og hadde et godt rykte, ville aldri vite av ham, ettersom hun fryktet hans onde sinn. Da skjedde det at denne Hugo en dag etter den hellige Michaels messe med fem eller seks av sine ørkesløse og slette kamerater listet seg hen til gården og bortførte jomfruen mens hennes far og brødre var borte — hvilket han vel visste. Da de hadde ført henne til herregården, ble jomfruen anbrakt i et kammer ovenpå, mens Hugo og hans venner i salen nedenunder satte seg ned til et langt sviregilde — hvilket alltid var hans vis på denne tid av natten. Den arme pike var nesten ved å miste sin forstand ved å lytte til all den syngen og skriken og bannskap som nådde opp til henne nedenfra; ti man sier at de ord Hugo Baskerville betjente seg av, når han var full, var av den art at de kunne neste svi ham selv. Til sist, i sin ytterste angst og vånde, gjorde hun hva den mest modige og kraftfulle mann kanskje ikke ville ha våget. Ved hjelp av eføyen, som dekket og ennå dekker muren mot syd, ble hun i stand til å kunne flykte og forsøke å nå hjemmet over moen. Det var tre mil mellom herregården og hennes fars hus.
"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.
Da Hugo noe senere forlot sine gjester for å bringe mat og drikke og kanskje endog det som verre var — til sin fange, hendte det seg at han fant buret tomt og fuglen fløyet. Ved dette syn ble han som besatt av djevelen. Han kom løpende ned ad trappene og inn i spisesalen, hvor han sprang opp på det store bord, således at fat og krus falt til alle kanter, og ropte høyt i alles påhør at han den selvsamme aften ville skjenke sin kropp og sjel til de onde makter hvis han bare kunne få fatt på fruentimmeret igjen. Og mens svirebrødrene tapte mælet på grunn av hans raseri, var der dog en som var mere ondskapsfull eller kanskje mere drukken enn de andre, og han ropte at hans vert skulle slippe hundene løs etter henne. Hugo løp ut av huset, ropte på sine rideknekter og befalte dem straks å sadle hans hest og slippe kobbelet løs. Han lot hundene snuse til et tørkle som hadde tilhørt piken, så de kom på sporet — og så avsted i måneskinnet over moen.
"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.
Svirebrødrene ble en stund stående og måpe uten riktig å kunne fatte alt, hva der var hendt i en slik hast. Men snart gikk det dog opp for deres omtåkete hjerner hva det nå etter all sannsynlighet ville skje derute på moen. Alle var ytterlig opphisset, noen ropte etter sine pistoler, andre etter sine hester, atter andre etter enda en flaske vin. Endelig kom de dog til fornuft, og alle sammen, tretten i tallet, tok sine hester og dro ut for å søke etter piken. Månen skinte klart, og de red hurtig, i det de tok den vei som piken nødvendigvis måtte ha valgt for å kunne nå sitt hjem.
"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.
De hadde vel ridd en mil eller to da de passerte en av de gjetere som om natten holder vakt ute på moen. De ropte på ham for å få vite om han hadde sett jaktferden. Mannen skal, etter hva der fortelles, ha vært så forstyrret av skrekk at han knapt kunne snakke, men endelig sa han at han virkelig hadde sett den ulykkelige pike med hundene etter seg. “ Men jeg har sett enda mere, ” sa han; “ Hugo Baskerville red forbi på sin sorte hest, og like bak ham løp taus en slik helvedeshund, som Gud forby noensinne må være etter meg. ” De drukne herremenn bante gjeteren og red videre. Men snart løp det kaldt nedover ryggen på dem. Det kom noen galopperende henover moen; Hugos sorte hest jog skumdekket forbi dem, med tøylen slepende etter seg og med tom sadel. Da sluttet svirebrødrene seg tett sammen i en klynge; ti en stor redsel var kommet over dem. De fortsatte imidlertid sin vei, skjønt hver især av dem, om han hadde vært alene, ville vært hjertensglad ved å vende sin hest den annen vei. De red langsomt og innhentet endelig hundene. Disse, som ellers var kjent for sitt mot og sin utmerkede rase, stod klynkende sammen i en klynge på toppen av et bakkehell ute på moen; noen av dem lusket nå bort, mens andre ble stående og stirre med strittende hår og stive øyne ned i den trange dalsenkning foran dem. Ryttene stanset, og som man kan tenke seg, var de nå mere edru, enn da de red ut. De fleste av dem ville ikke på noen måte videre; men tre av dem, som enten var de mest dumdristige eller muligens de mest drukne, red ned i dalen. Denne utvidet seg til en slette hvor det stod to av disse store steiner — synlige den dag idag — som ukjente folk har reist i eldgamle dager.
"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.
Månen skinte klart over sletten, og midt på denne lå den ulykkelige unge pike, død av skrekk og utmattelse. Men det var ikke synet av hennes døde skikkelse og heller ikke av Hugo Baskervilles lik, som lå i nærheten, som fikk håret til å reise seg på de tre dumdristige svirebrødres hoder, men at et heslig vesen stod bøyd over Hugos legeme og snappet etter hans strupe, — et stort sort dyr, skapt som en hund, men større enn noen hund som et menneskelig øye noensinne hadde sett. Og mens de stod og betraktet den, rev dyret strupen ut på Hugo Baskerville, og da det så vendte seg mot de tre med glødende øyne og siklende kjever, skrek de av redsel og red sin vei for bare livet. De ble ved med å skrike, mens de galopperte henover moen. Det fortelles at en av dem ennå samme natt døde av det han hadde sett, og de to andre var ødelagt for resten av sine dager.
"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.
Således lyder fortellingen, mine sønner, om denne hund som alltid senere skal ha vært en slik skrekk og plage for vår slekt. Når jeg har fortalt den, er det fordi det som man vet full beskjed om, er mindre redselsfullt enn det som kun antydes og gjettes. Det kan heller ikke nektes at mange av slekten er blitt rammet av en ulykkelig død, plutselig, blodig og hemmelighetsfull. Men la oss søke tilflukt hos forsynets uendelige godhet, som ikke for alle tider vil straffe de uskyldige i tredje eller fjerde ledd, således som forbannelsen lyder i den hellige skrift. Til dette forsyn anbefaler jeg eder herved, mine sønner, og jeg tilråder eder å bruke forsiktighet og å fly moen i de mørke timer, da onde makter driver sitt spill.
"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.
Fra Hugo Baskerville til hans sønner Rodger og John med forbud om, at de intet sier herom til sin søster Elisabeth. ”
"[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.
“ Nåvel ? ” sa han.
"Well?" said he.
“ Det er interessant, ikke sant ? ”
"Do you not find it interesting?"
“ Jo, for en, der samler eventyr og tradisjoner. ”
"To a collector of fairy tales."
Doktor Mortimer tok en sammenfoldet avis opp av lommen.
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:--
“ Sir Charles Baskervilles plutselige død har kastet en dyp skygge over egnen. Han var jo nevnt som den sannsynlige kandidat ved neste valg for Mid-Devon. Skjønt han kun hadde bodd på Baskervilles herregård en forholdsvis kort tid, hadde han ved sin store velgjørenhet vunnet hengivenhet og beundring hos alle dem som han kom i berøring med. I denne, de rike oppkomlingers tid, er det betryggende å se at en ætling av en gammel slekt som det var gått nedover med, er i stand til å skape seg en formue selv og bringe den hjem for å gjenreise sin sunkne ætt til sin gamle makt og glans. Som kjent hadde sir Charles tjent store summer ved spekulasjoner i Sydafrika. Han var klokere enn dem som ikke vet når de skal stanse før lykkens hjul vender seg mot dem, — han trakk sin kapital inn, mens der var tid, og vendte tilbake til England. Det er bare to år siden han bosatte seg på Baskerville herregård, og det snakkes allment om de store planene hans til ombygningen og utbedringen av den. Døden har nå hindret ham i å virkeliggjøre dem.
"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.
Sir Charles var selv barnløs, og han hadde derfor ikke lagt skjul på at det var hans ønske at hele egnen skulle nyte godt av hans formue sålenge han levde. Mere enn én vil nå ha grunn til å beklage hans altfor tidlige bortgang. Hans store velgjørenhet både her på stedet og rundt i landet har vært gjenstand for hyppig omtale i dette bladets spalter. De nærmere omstendigheter ved sir Charles Baskervilles død kan ikke sies å være fullt oppklart ved den pågående undersøkelse, men det er i alle fall fremkommet tilstrekkelig til å avkrefte de ryktene som den stedlige overtro har gitt anledning til. Der er ingen som helst mistanke om noen forbrytelse, eller at døden skulle skyldes annet enn naturlige årsaker. Sir Charles var enkemann; i enkelte henseender kan det kanskje sies, at han var noe eksentrisk. Tross sin store formue var han enkel i alle sine vaner, og hele tjenerpersonalet på Baskerville herregård bestod av ekteparet Barrymore. Mannen var hushovmester og konen husbestyrerinne. Deres vitnesbyrd, som er bekreftet av flere av hans venner, går ut på at sir Charles Baskervilles helbred i noen tid hadde vært mindre god. Særlig skulle han ha lidd av et hjerteonde som medførte hyppige forandringer av ansiktsfarven, åndenød og sterke anfall av nervøst tungsinn. Doktor James Mortimer, den dødes lege og venn, har forklart seg i samme retning.
"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.
Saken er ganske enkel. Charles Baskerville pleide hver aften, før han gikk til sengs, å gå en tur nedover den kjente barlindallé på Baskerville herregård. Barrymores vitneforklaring viser at han pleide å gjøre dette. Den 4de juni hadde Charles Baskerville erklært at han ville reise til London den neste dag, og hadde gitt Barrymore ordre til å pakke hans tøy. Denne aften tok han sin sedvanlige spasertur, mens han som ellers røkte en sigar. Men han kom aldri tilbake. Da Barrymore ved tolvtiden fremdeles fant inngangsdøren åpen, ble han redd, tok en lykt og gikk ut for å se etter sin herre. Det hadde regnet om dagen, og han kunne lett følge Charles Baskervilles fotspor nedover alléen. Halvveis nede i denne er der en port for en vei som fører ut til moen. Det så ut til at sir Charles Baskerville hadde stått her en tid. Han har deretter fortsatt nedover alléen, og ved den borteste enden fant han Charles Baskervilles lik. En ting i Barrymores vitneprov var dog ikke blitt nærmere utredet. Han forklarte nemlig at hans herres fotspor forandret utseende fra porten og videre fremover. Det så ut som om han her skulle ha gått på tærne. En mann ved navn Murphy, som er en kjent omstreifende hestebytter, oppholdt seg på moen ikke langt borte, men etter hans egen tilståelse skal han ha vært aldeles drukken. Han sier at han hørte skrik, men han kunne ikke si fra hvilken kant de kom. Det var ikke mulig å oppdage noe spor av vold på liket. Doktoren fremhevet visstnok at ansiktet var fortrukket på en nesten utrolig måte — til og med i den grad at doktor Mortimer først ikke ville tro at det var hans venn og pasient som lå der foran ham, men dette skal ikke være noe usedvanlig symptom ved hjertesykdom. Denne forklaring ble gitt ved likskuet, hvor det ble påvist at han i lengre tid hadde lidd av en indre organisk feil. Juryens kjennelse ved likskuet ble avsagt i overensstemmelse med legeerklæringen. Det er heldig at det ble slik, for det er selvfølgelig av den aller største viktighet at sir Charles Baskervilles arving kan ta eiendommen i besittelse og fortsette den velsignelsesrike gjerning som ble avbrutt på en så sørgelig måte. Hadde juryens nøkterne kjennelse ikke satt en endelig stopper for de romantiske historier som var satt i omløp i anledning av denne sak, ville det kanskje ikke ha vært lett å finne noen som ville bo på Baskerville herregård. Den nærmeste slektning er visst nok Henry Baskerville, hvis han er i live — — en sønn av sir Charles Baskervilles yngste bror. Den unge mann var, da man sist hørte noe fra ham, i Amerika Man søker nå å få oppspurt hans adresse for å kunne underrette ham om at formuen er tilfalt ham. ”
"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."
“ Jeg takker Dem meget, ” sa Sherlock Holmes, “ fordi De har henledet min oppmerksomhet på denne saken, som absolutt er meget interessant i enkelte henseender. Jeg la merke til noen beretninger i avisene den gangen, men jeg var så fullstendig opptatt med den lille episoden i Vatikanet, og i min iver for å tjene paven tapte jeg forskjellige interessante engelske affærer av syne. Denne artikkelen inneholder altså alt som offentlig er kommet frem. ”
"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?"
“Ja”
"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.
“ Ja, ” sa doktor Mortimer, som begynte å vise tegn til sterk bevegelse, “ men jeg må da fortelle ting som jeg aldri har betrodd til noe menneske. Min grunn til ikke å fortelle det ved likskuet var at jeg som vitenskapsmann nødig ville synes å bekrefte alminnelig overtro. Dessuten hadde jeg ennå en grunn, nemlig at Baskerville herregård, som det står i avisen, sannsynligvis ville komme til å stå tom hvis eiendommens mindre gode rykte på noen måte ble forverret. Det var mine to grunner som gjorde at jeg følte meg berrettiget til å fortelle mindre enn jeg visste. Det kunne jo ikke komme noe godt ut av det. Men overfor Dem har jeg ingen grunn til ikke å snakke helt ut.
"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.
Der er meget få mennesker der på egnen, og de som bor nær hverandre kommer meget sammen. Jeg så derfor adskillig til sir Charles Baskerville. Med unntagelse av Frankland fra Lafter herregård og naturforskeren Stapleton er der ingen andre dannede mennesker i mange miles omkrets. Sir Charles Baskerville var en tilbaketrukket mann, men hans sykdom brakte oss sammen, og våre felles vitenskapelige interesser knyttet oss til hverandre. Han hadde medbrakt adskillige vitenskapelige opplysninger fra Sydafrika, og vi har tilbrakt mang en en koselig aften sammen med å diskutere den sammenlignende anatomi av buskmenn og hottentotter.
"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.
I løpet av de siste måneder ble mere og mere klart for meg at sir Charles Baskervilles nervesystem var fullstendig overanstrengt, så det kunne slå klikk når som helst. Den fortellingen jeg har lest for Dem, hadde gjort et så dypt inntrykk på ham at han, hvor gjerne han enn spaserte på sin egen eiendom, dog aldri ville gå ut på moen om natten. Hvor utrolig det enn kan høres ut for Dem, hr. Holmes, hadde han den faste overbevisningen at hans familie var truet av en fryktelig skjebne, og hva han kunne minnes om sine forfedre var heller ikke oppmuntrende. Tanken om eksistensen av noe overjordisk forfulgte ham bestandig, og mere enn en gang spurte han meg om jeg under mine nattlige besøk som lege hadde sett noe mystisk vesen eller hørt en hund gjø. Det siste spørsmålet rettet han igjen og igjen til meg, og hans stemme skalv bestandig sterkt beveget.
"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.
Jeg husker godt at jeg kom kjørende opp til hans hus en aften, omtrent tre uker før den skjebnesvangre begivenheten. Han stod nettopp i døren da jeg kom. Jeg var kommet ut av vognen og stod like foran ham, da jeg så hans øyne stirre stivt over mine skuldre med et uttrykk av den forferdeligste redsel. Jeg snudde meg rundt og så i farten et glimt av noe som jeg tok for en sort kalv som sprang forbi hesten. Han var så opphisset og så forstyrret at jeg måtte gå bort til det stedet hvor dyret var kommet til syne, og se etter det. Men det var da forsvunnet. Denne hendelse syntes å gjøre et ytterst ubehagelig inntrykk på ham. Jeg ble hos ham hele aftenen, og det var ved den anledningen at han for å forklare den bevegelse han hadde vist betrodde til min varetekt den beretning som jeg leste for Dem med det samme jeg kom. Jeg husker særlig denne lille episoden fordi den får en viss betydning i forbindelse med den sørgelige tildragelsen som senere fulgte. Men jeg var den gang overbevist om at det hele var fullstendig betydningsløst, og at hans opphisselse var ugrunnet.
"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.
Det var etter mitt råd at sir Charles Baskerville ville reise til London. Hans hjerte var angrepet, og den stadige engstelse som han levde i, hadde, hvor innbilt den enn var, øyensynlig en ytterst uheldig innflytelse på hans helbred. Jeg mente at et par måneders opphold i London med alle byens adspredelser ville gjøre ham til et nytt menneske. Stapleton, vår felles venn, som var meget bekymret for hans helbred, var av samme mening. Men i siste øyeblikk kom så denne forferdelige katastrofen.
"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.
Den natt sir Charles døde, lot hans hushovmester Barrymore, som fant den døde, kusken Perkins ta en hest og øyeblikkelig ri til meg. Jeg satt sent oppe den aftenen, og kunne derfor nå Baskerville en time etter at begivenheten var hendt. Jeg nedskrev og undersøkte nøyaktig alle enkeltheter som ble opplyst ved likskuet. Jeg fulgte fottrinene ned gjennom alléen, jeg så det stedet ved porten, hvor han syntes å ha stanset en stund, jeg la merke til forandringen av fottrinnene etterpå, jeg konstaterte, at der ikke fantes andre fotspor i alléens bløte grus enn Barrymores, og undersøkte til slutt meget omhyggelig liket, som ingen hadde rørt ennå. Sir Charles Baskerville lå med ansiktet ned, armene utstrakt og fingrene boret ned i jorden. Trekkene var så fortrukne som følge av en eller annen sterk bevegelse at jeg nesten kunne ha sverget på at det ikke var ham. Det var ikke minste spor å se av noen fysisk skade. Men Barrymore kom frem med uriktige opplysninger ved likskuet. Han sa at det ikke fantes noe spor på jorden rundt liket. Han hadde ikke lagt merke til noen. Men det gjorde jeg. Sporene kunne først oppdages et lite stykke borte, men de var friske og tydelige. ”
"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."
“Fottrinn?”
"Footprints?"
“Ja, fottrinn.”
"Footprints."
“En manns eller en kvinnes?”
"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:--
“ Hr. Holmes, det var fotspor etter en enorm hund. ”
"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"
Tredje kapitel.
Chapter 3 The Problem
Problemet. JEG må tilstå at ved disse ord gikk det en gysning gjennom meg. Det var en angst i doktorens stemme som viste at han var dypt beveget over hva han fortalte oss. Holmes lente seg spent forover, og hans øyne hadde den hårde, tørre glans som alltid glimtet ut av dem når han var særlig interessert i noe.
I confess at these words a shudder passed through me. There was a thrill in the doctor's voice which showed that he was himself deeply moved by that which he told us. Holmes leaned forward in his excitement and his eyes had the hard, dry glitter which shot from them when he was keenly interested.
“ De så dem ? ”
"You saw this?"
“ Så tydelig som jeg nå ser Dem. ”
"As clearly as I see you."
“ Men De sa ikke noe ? ”
"And you said nothing?"
"What was the use?"
"How was it that no one else saw it?"
"The marks were some twenty yards from the body and no one gave them a thought. I don't suppose I should have done so had I not known this legend."
“ Men der er jo mange gjeterhunder på moen der ? ”
"There are many sheep-dogs on the moor?"
“ Javisst, men dette var ikke noen gjeterhund. ”
"No doubt, but this was no sheep-dog."
"You say it was large?"
“Ja, kolossal.”
"Enormous."
"But it had not approached the body?"
“Nei.”
"No."
“ Hva slags aften var det ? ”
"What sort of night was it?'
“En fuktig og tåket.”
"Damp and raw."
“ Men det regnet ikke ? ”
"But not actually raining?"
“Nei.”
"No."
“ Hvordan ser alléen ut ? ”
"What is the Alley like?"
"There are two lines of old yew hedge, twelve feet high and impenetrable. The walk in the centre is about eight feet across."
“ Er der noe rom mellom hekkene og veien ? ”
"Is there anything between the hedges and the walk?"
“ Ja, det er en gresskant omkring tre alen bred på begge sider. ”
"Yes, there is a strip of grass about six feet broad on either side."
"I understand that the yew hedge is penetrated at one point by a gate?"
“ Ja, en port fører ut til moen utenfor. ”
"Yes, the wicket-gate which leads on to the moor."
“ Finnes det noen annen åpning ? ”
"Is there any other opening?"
“Nei.”
"None."
"So that to reach the Yew Alley one either has to come down it from the house or else to enter it by the moor-gate?"
“ Der er en utgang gjennom et lite lysthus ved den andre enden. ”
"There is an exit through a summer-house at the far end."
"Had Sir Charles reached this?"
"No; he lay about fifty yards from it."
"Now, tell me, Dr. Mortimer--and this is important--the marks which you saw were on the path and not on the grass?"
"No marks could show on the grass."
“ Var sporene på veien på samme side som porten ut til moen ? ”
"Were they on the same side of the path as the moor-gate?"
“ Ja, de fantes like på kanten av veien på samme side som porten. ”
"Yes; they were on the edge of the path on the same side as the moor-gate."
"You interest me exceedingly. Another point. Was the wicket-gate closed?"
"Closed and padlocked."
“ Hvor høy er grinden ? ”
"How high was it?"
“Omtrent fire fot.”
"About four feet high."
"Then anyone could have got over it?"
“Ja.”
"Yes."
“ Hva slags spor fant De her ved grinden ? ”
"And what marks did you see by the wicket-gate?"
“ Jeg så ikke noe særlig. ”
"None in particular."
“ Men du store himmel, var det virkelig ingen som undersøkte dette ? ”
"Good heaven! Did no one examine?"
“ Jo, jeg undersøkte det selv. ”
"Yes, I examined myself."
“ Men fant ikke noe ? ”
"And found nothing?"
"It was all very confused. Sir Charles had evidently stood there for five or ten minutes."
"How do you know that?"
"Because the ash had twice dropped from his cigar."
"Excellent! This is a colleague, Watson, after our own heart. But the marks?"
"He had left his own marks all over that small patch of gravel. I could discern no others."
Sherlock Holmes strøk hånden over kneet med en utålmodig bevegelse.
Sherlock Holmes struck his hand against his knee with an impatient gesture.
“ Hadde jeg bare vært der ! ” utbrøt han. “ Dette er åpenbart en ytterst interessant sak som ville gi en oppdager av fag en glimrende anledning til vitenskapelig forskning. Denne lille, grusete flekken, som jeg ville ha kunnet lese så meget av, er nå for lenge siden blitt oppbløtt av regn og tråkket til av nysgjerrige folks støvler. Nei, at De ikke tilkalte meg, doktor Mortimer. De har virkelig pådratt Dem et stort ansvar. ”
"If I had only been there!" he cried. "It is evidently a case of extraordinary interest, and one which presented immense opportunities to the scientific expert. That gravel page upon which I might have read so much has been long ere this smudged by the rain and defaced by the clogs of curious peasants. Oh, Dr. Mortimer, Dr. Mortimer, to think that you should not have called me in! You have indeed much to answer for."
"I could not call you in, Mr. Holmes, without disclosing these facts to the world, and I have already given my reasons for not wishing to do so. Besides, besides --"
“ Hvorfor stopper De opp ? ”
"Why do you hesitate?"
"There is a realm in which the most acute and most experienced of detectives is helpless."
“ De mener at vi her står overfor noe overnaturlig ? ”
"You mean that the thing is supernatural?"
"I did not positively say so."
“ Nei, men det er åpenbart Deres mening.
"No, but you evidently think it."
"Since the tragedy, Mr. Holmes, there have come to my ears several incidents which are hard to reconcile with the settled order of Nature."
“For eksempel?”
"For example?"
“ Jeg har hørt at før den forferdelige hendelsen inntraff, hadde forskjellige folk sett en dyreskikkelse ute på moen som skal ha svart fullstendig til denne Baskervilles demon. Det kan neppe ha vært noe av vitenskapen kjent dyr. Alle forklarte at det var et veldig, lysende, gjennomsiktig og åndeaktig vesen. Jeg har krysseksaminert disse folkene; en av dem var en kraftig gårdbruker, en av dem en beslagsmed og en tredje en forpakter. De forteller alle tre aldeles den samme historie om det forferdelige syn, som i alle deler svarer til helvedeshunden i sagnet. Der er kommet en redsel over hele egnen, og det må være en modig mann som tør gå over moen om natten. ”
"I find that before the terrible event occurred several people had seen a creature upon the moor which corresponds with this Baskerville demon, and which could not possibly be any animal known to science. They all agreed that it was a huge creature, luminous, ghastly, and spectral. I have cross-examined these men, one of them a hard-headed countryman, one a farrier, and one a moorland farmer, who all tell the same story of this dreadful apparition, exactly corresponding to the hell-hound of the legend. I assure you that there is a reign of terror in the district, and that it is a hardy man who will cross the moor at night."
"And you, a trained man of science, believe it to be supernatural?"
"I do not know what to believe."
Holmes trakk på skuldrene.
Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
"I have hitherto confined my investigations to this world," said he. "In a modest way I have combated evil, but to take on the Father of Evil himself would, perhaps, be too ambitious a task. Yet you must admit that the footmark is material."
"The original hound was material enough to tug a man's throat out, and yet he was diabolical as well."
“ Jeg ser at De er fullstendig gått over til dem som tror på det overnaturlige. Men si meg så, dr. Mortimer, når De virkelig har et slikt syn på saken, hvorfor er De så kommet for å spørre meg til råds ? De forteller meg i samme åndedrett at det ikke vil føre til noe å sette i gang undersøkelser om sir Charles Baskervilles død, men samtidig vil De ha meg til å gjøre det. ”
"I see that you have quite gone over to the supernaturalists. But now, Dr. Mortimer, tell me this. If you hold these views, why have you come to consult me at all? You tell me in the same breath that it is useless to investigate Sir Charles's death, and that you desire me to do it."
"I did not say that I desired you to do it."
"Then, how can I assist you?"
"By advising me as to what I should do with Sir Henry Baskerville, who arrives at Waterloo Station"--Dr. Mortimer looked at his watch--"in exactly one hour and a quarter."
“ Han er jo arvingen ? ”
"He being the heir?"
“ Ja. Da sir Charles Baskerville var død, satte vi gang undersøkelser angående den unge mann og fant at han hadde hatt en farm i Kanada. Etter de meddelelser vi har mottatt, skal det være en i alle henseender utmerket mann. Jeg snakker nå ikke som doktor, men som formynder og eksekutor av sir Charles Baskervilles testamente. ”
"Yes. On the death of Sir Charles we inquired for this young gentleman and found that he had been farming in Canada. From the accounts which have reached us he is an excellent fellow in every way. I speak not as a medical man but as a trustee and executor of Sir Charles's will."
"There is no other claimant, I presume?"
“ Nei. Den eneste annen slektning som vi har kunnet komme på spor etter, er Rodger Baskerville, den yngste av de tre brødre, av hvilke Charles var den eldste. Den annen bror, som døde ung, er denne unge Henrys far. Den tredje, Rodger, var familiens sorte får. Han tilhørte den gamle, mektige Baskervilleslekt, og han lignet, etter hva jeg hører, det gamle familiebillede av stamfaren Hugo på en prikk. England ble ham for hett, han flyktet til Mellomamerika og døde der av gulfeber i 1876. Henry er den siste av Baskervillerne. Jeg skal nå møte ham ved Waterloo stasjon om en time og fem minutter. Jeg har mottatt et telegram fra ham. Han ankom til Southampton imorges. Hva vil De så råde meg til å gjøre med ham, hr. Holmes ? ”
"None. The only other kinsman whom we have been able to trace was Rodger Baskerville, the youngest of three brothers of whom poor Sir Charles was the elder. The second brother, who died young, is the father of this lad Henry. The third, Rodger, was the black sheep of the family. He came of the old masterful Baskerville strain, and was the very image, they tell me, of the family picture of old Hugo. He made England too hot to hold him, fled to Central America, and died there in 1876 of yellow fever. Henry is the last of the Baskervilles. In one hour and five minutes I meet him at Waterloo Station. I have had a wire that he arrived at Southampton this morning. Now, Mr. Holmes, what would you advise me to do with him?"
"Why should he not go to the home of his fathers?"
“ Det synes ganske naturlig, ikke sant ? Men tenk så på, at enhver Baskerville som kommer ditt, går en uhyggelig skjebne i møte. Jeg er sikker på at dersom sir Charles kunne ha snakket med meg før sin død, ville han ha advart meg mot å bringe den siste ætling av den gamle stamme og arving til den store formue til dette skjebnesvangre sted. Men nå kan det ikke nektes at hele den fattige, øde egns velferd er avhengig av hans nærvær. Alt det gode som sir Charles har utrettet ville falle sammen, hvis Baskervilles herregård blir uten beboer. Jeg er redd for at jeg kan la meg lede alt for meget av min egen interesse i saken. Derfor er det jeg har bedt Dem om et råd. ”
"It seems natural, does it not? And yet, consider that every Baskerville who goes there meets with an evil fate. I feel sure that if Sir Charles could have spoken with me before his death he would have warned me against bringing this, the last of the old race, and the heir to great wealth, to that deadly place. And yet it cannot be denied that the prosperity of the whole poor, bleak country-side depends upon his presence. All the good work which has been done by Sir Charles will crash to the ground if there is no tenant of the Hall. I fear lest I should be swayed too much by my own obvious interest in the matter, and that is why I bring the case before you and ask for your advice."
Holmes tenkte seg et øyeblikk om.
Holmes considered for a little time.
"Put into plain words, the matter is this," said he. "In your opinion there is a diabolical agency which makes Dartmoor an unsafe abode for a Baskerville--that is your opinion?"
"At least I might go the length of saying that there is some evidence that this may be so."
"Exactly. But surely, if your supernatural theory be correct, it could work the young man evil in London as easily as in Devonshire. A devil with merely local powers like a parish vestry would be too inconceivable a thing."
"You put the matter more flippantly, Mr. Holmes, than you would probably do if you were brought into personal contact with these things. Your advice, then, as I understand it, is that the young man will be as safe in Devonshire as in London. He comes in fifty minutes. What would you recommend?"
"I recommend, sir, that you take a cab, call off your spaniel who is scratching at my front door, and proceed to Waterloo to meet Sir Henry Baskerville."
“Og så?”
"And then?"
"And then you will say nothing to him at all until I have made up my mind about the matter."
"How long will it take you to make up your mind?"
"Twenty-four hours. At ten o'clock to-morrow, Dr. Mortimer, I will be much obliged to you if you will call upon me here, and it will be of help to me in my plans for the future if you will bring Sir Henry Baskerville with you."
"I will do so, Mr. Holmes." He scribbled the appointment on his shirtcuff and hurried off in his strange, peering, absent-minded fashion. Holmes stopped him at the head of the stair.
"Only one more question, Dr. Mortimer. You say that before Sir Charles Baskerville's death several people saw this apparition upon the moor?"
“ Tre personer så det. ”
"Three people did."
"Did any see it after?"
"I have not heard of any."
“Takk. Godmorgen!”
"Thank you. Good morning."
Holmes returned to his seat with that quiet look of inward satisfaction which meant that he had a congenial task before him.
“ Skal De ut, Watson ? ”
"Going out, Watson?"
"Unless I can help you."
“ Nei, kjære venn, jeg kommer først til Dem når tiden er inne til å handle. Men dette er jo en nydelig sak, i visse henseender virkelig enestående. Vil De, når De går forbi, stikke innom Bradley og be ham sende opp et pund riktig sterk tobakk ? Takk ! Hvis det falt Dem beleilig, ville jeg helst De ikke kom hjem før til aftens; men da skulle det være meget morsomt å sammenligne våre inntrykk av denne høyst merkelige sak som morgenen har brakt oss. ”
"No, my dear fellow, it is at the hour of action that I turn to you for aid. But this is splendid, really unique from some points of view. When you pass Bradley's, would you ask him to send up a pound of the strongest shag tobacco? Thank you. It would be as well if you could make it convenient not to return before evening. Then I should be very glad to compare impressions as to this most interesting problem which has been submitted to us this morning."
Jeg visste at min venn fremfor alt trengte ro og ensomhet ved slike anledninger, hvor alle hans tanker var helt opptatt av den ene sak, mens han gransket alt som kunne lede på et spor, oppstilte forskjellige muligheter, avveiet den ene teorien mot den andre, og gjorde seg opp en mening om hva som var vesentlig, og hva der var uvesentlig. Jeg tilbrakte derfor dagen i min klubb og vendte først ut på aftenen tilbake til Baker Street. Klokken var nesten ni da jeg igjen innfant meg i vår dagligstue.
I knew that seclusion and solitude were very necessary for my friend in those hours of intense mental concentration during which he weighed every particle of evidence, constructed alternative theories, balanced one against the other, and made up his mind as to which points were essential and which immaterial. I therefore spent the day at my club and did not return to Baker Street until evening. It was nearly nine o'clock when I found myself in the sitting-room once more.
Da jeg åpnet døren var mitt første inntrykk at det var brutt ut brann, for værelset var så fylt med røk at lyset fra lampen på bordet ble sett som gjennom en tåke. Men jeg ble straks beroliget da jeg kom inn. Det var røk av riktig sterk, simpel tobakk, som rev i halsen så jeg måtte hoste. Gjennom røken skimtet jeg såvidt Holmes, iført sin slåbrok; han hadde lagt seg bekvemt tilrette i en lenestol med pipen i munnen. Flere rulller med papir lå strødd omkring ham.
My first impression as I opened the door was that a fire had broken out, for the room was so filled with smoke that the light of the lamp upon the table was blurred by it. As I entered, however, my fears were set at rest, for it was the acrid fumes of strong coarse tobacco which took me by the throat and set me coughing. Through the haze I had a vague vision of Holmes in his dressing-gown coiled up in an armchair with his black clay pipe between his lips. Several rolls of paper lay around him.
"Caught cold, Watson?" said he.
“ Nei, det er bare denne giftige luften. ”
"No, it's this poisonous atmosphere."
“ Ja, den er visst ganske tykk nå, når De nevner det. ”
"I suppose it is pretty thick, now that you mention it."
"Thick! It is intolerable."
"Open the window, then! You have been at your club all day, I perceive."
“Men, kjære Holmes —?”
"My dear Holmes!"
“ Har jeg ikke rett ? ”
"Am I right?"
“Jo, men hvordan —?”
"Certainly, but how?"
Han lo av mitt forbausede uttrykk
He laughed at my bewildered expression.
“ De er i besittelse av en fortryllende naivitet, Watson, som gjør det til en fornøyelse for meg å eksperimentere med mine små kunster på Deres bekostning. De spaserer ut tidlig på formiddagen i sludd og regn og kommer tilbake om aftenen med støvler og flosshatt like skinnende blanke. De må altså ha vært under tak hele tiden. De har dessuten ingen venner å besøke. Hvor ellers kunne De ha vært ? Er så det hele ikke klart ? ”
"There is a delightful freshness about you, Watson, which makes it a pleasure to exercise any small powers which I possess at your expense. A gentleman goes forth on a showery and miry day. He returns immaculate in the evening with the gloss still on his hat and his boots. He has been a fixture therefore all day. He is not a man with intimate friends. Where, then, could he have been? Is it not obvious?"
“ Jo, det er nokså øyensynlig. ”
"Well, it is rather obvious."
"The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes. Where do you think that I have been?"
“Her hele tiden.”
"A fixture also."
"On the contrary, I have been to Devonshire."
“I ånden?”
"In spirit?"
“ Nettopp. Mitt legeme har ikke forlatt denne stolen, men dessverre må jeg bekjenne at det i mitt fravær har fortært to svære kanner med kaffe og et utrolig kvantum tobakk. Da De var gått, sendte jeg bud ned til Stamford etter et kart over denne delen av moen, og siden har min ånd flakket bortetter den hele dagen, og jeg smigrer meg med at jeg nå kan finne frem der på egen hånd. ” “ Et kart i meget stor målestokk ? ”
"Exactly. My body has remained in this arm-chair and has, I regret to observe, consumed in my absence two large pots of coffee and an incredible amount of tobacco. After you left I sent down to Stamford's for the Ordnance map of this portion of the moor, and my spirit has hovered over it all day. I flatter myself that I could find my way about."
“Ja, i meget stor målestokk.”
"A large scale map, I presume?"
Han viklet opp en del av det og foldet det ut over sine knær. “ Her har De den del som særlig interesserer oss. Der ligger Baskerville herregård i midten. ”
"Very large." He unrolled one section and held it over his knee. "Here you have the particular district which concerns us. That is Baskerville Hall in the middle."
“Med skog rundt omkring?”
"With a wood round it?"
“ Nettopp. Jeg tenker den omtalte barlindallé, skjønt den ikke er nevnt her, må strekke seg i denne retningen langs moens høyre side. Denne lille klynge bygninger her er landsbyen Grimpen, hvor vår venn doktor Mortimer bor. I en omkrets av åtte kilometer finnes det, som De ser, bare noen få spredte gårder. Her er den omtalte Lafter herregård. Her er et hus som må være naturforskeren Stapletons bolig, tar jeg ikke feil, var det det han het. Her er to forpaktergårde. To og tyve kilometer borte ligger Princetowns store fengsel. Rundt omkring og innimellom disse spredte punktene strekker den øde, livløse moen seg. Her er da skueplassen hvor tragedien ble utspilt, og hvor vi muligens kan hjelpe til at den blir oppført på ny. ”
"Exactly. I fancy the Yew Alley, though not marked under that name, must stretch along this line, with the moor, as you perceive, upon the right of it. This small clump of buildings here is the hamlet of Grimpen, where our friend Dr. Mortimer has his headquarters. Within a radius of five miles there are, as you see, only a very few scattered dwellings. Here is Lafter Hall, which was mentioned in the narrative. There is a house indicated here which may be the residence of the naturalist--Stapleton, if I remember right, was his name. Here are two moorland farm-houses, High Tor and Foulmire. Then fourteen miles away the great convict prison of Princetown. Between and around these scattered points extends the desolate, lifeless moor. This, then, is the stage upon which tragedy has been played, and upon which we may help to play it again."
"It must be a wild place."
"Yes, the setting is a worthy one. If the devil did desire to have a hand in the affairs of men ----"
"Then you are yourself inclining to the supernatural explanation."
“ Djevelens hjelpere må vel være vesener av kjøtt og blod, ikke sant ? Her er to spørsmål, som venter på vår løsning. Det ene er om det overhodet er utøvd noen forbrytelse i det hele tatt. Det andre er: Hva består forbrytelsen i, og hvordan ble den begått ? Hvis doktor Mortimers antagelse skulle være riktig, og vi således står overfor krefter utenfor naturens alminnelige lover, er vår undersøkelse til ende. Men vi er forpliktet til å uttømme alle andre gjetninger før vi faller tilbake på denne antagelsen. Jeg tenker vi lukker dette vinduet igjen, hvis De så synes ? Så merkelig det enn kan høres, finner jeg at en konsentrert atmosfære også hjelper til å konsentrere tankene. Ennå har jeg ikke drevet det til å lukke meg inne i et kott, men egentlig ville det være det mest logiske, etter min overbevisning. Har De tenkt noe over saken ? ”
"The devil's agents may be of flesh and blood, may they not? There are two questions waiting for us at the outset. The one is whether any crime has been committed at all; the second is, what is the crime and how was it committed? Of course, if Dr. Mortimer's surmise should be correct, and we are dealing with forces outside the ordinary laws of Nature, there is an end of our investigation. But we are bound to exhaust all other hypotheses before falling back upon this one. I think we'll shut that window again, if you don't mind. It is a singular thing, but I find that a concentrated atmosphere helps a concentration of thought. I have not pushed it to the length of getting into a box to think, but that is the logical outcome of my convictions. Have you turned the case over in your mind?"
"Yes, I have thought a good deal of it in the course of the day."
“ Hva får De ut av den, Watson ? ”
"What do you make of it?"
"It is very bewildering." "It has certainly a character of its own. There are points of distinction about it. That change in the footprints, for example. What do you make of that?"
"Mortimer said that the man had walked on tiptoe down that portion of the alley."
"He only repeated what some fool had said at the inquest. Why should a man walk on tiptoe down the alley?"
“Ja, men hva da?”
"What then?"
"He was running, Watson--running desperately, running for his life, running until he burst his heart and fell dead upon his face."
“Sprunget for hva?”
"Running from what?"
"There lies our problem. There are indications that the man was crazed with fear before ever he began to run."
"How can you say that?"
“ Jeg antar at det som fremkalte hans redsel kom i mot ham over moen. Hvis det var slik, og det synes mest sannsynlig, kunne bare en mann som ikke lenger var herre over seg selv ha sprunget fra huset istedenfor til det. Dersom hestebytterens forklaring skal tas for god fisk, sprang han etter hjelp nettopp mot kanten hvor det var minst utsikt til å få den. Og hvem ventet han på den aftenen, og hvorfor ventet han der ute på veien og ikke heller hjemme i sitt eget hus ? ”
"I am presuming that the cause of his fears came to him across the moor. If that were so, and it seems most probable, only a man who had lost his wits would have run from the house instead of towards it. If the gipsy's evidence may be taken as true, he ran with cries for help in the direction where help was least likely to be. Then, again, whom was he waiting for that night, and why was he waiting for him in the Yew Alley rather than in his own house?"
"You think that he was waiting for someone?"
“ Mannen var noe til års og svak. Det er forklarlig at han ville ta seg seg en aftentur. Men det var sølet og rått, og veiret temmelig ugjestmildt. Er det da rimelig at han skulle bli stående fem eller ti minutter, som doktor Mortimer med større praktisk sans enn jeg skulle ha tiltenkt ham, sluttet ut i fra sigarasken. ”
"The man was elderly and infirm. We can understand his taking an evening stroll, but the ground was damp and the night inclement. Is it natural that he should stand for five or ten minutes, as Dr. Mortimer, with more practical sense than I should have given him credit for, deduced from the cigar ash?"
"But he went out every evening."
“ Jeg anser det meget usannsynlig, at han stod og ventet ved grinden der hver aften. Tvertimot er det klart at han ungikk moen ! Men den aftenen ventet han der. Det var aftenen, før han skulle reise til London. Saken begynner å forme seg, Watson ! Den begynner å henge sammen. Rekk meg fiolinen, er De snill, så venter vi med å snakke om denne saken inntil vi har truffet doktor Mortimer og Henry Baskerville i morgen. ” * * *
"I think it unlikely that he waited at the moor-gate every evening. On the contrary, the evidence is that he avoided the moor. That night he waited there. It was the night before he made his departure for London. The thing takes shape, Watson. It becomes coherent. Might I ask you to hand me my violin, and we will postpone all further thought upon this business until we have had the advantage of meeting Dr. Mortimer and Sir Henry Baskerville in the morning."
Fjerde kapitel. Sir Henry Baskerville.
Chapter 4 Sir Henry Baskerville
VI hadde spist frokost tidlig, og Holmes ventet nå på det lovede besøk. Klokken hadde nettopp slått ti da doktor Mortimer ble vist opp, fulgt av den unge baronet. Han var en en liten, livlig, mørkøyd mann i tredveårsalderen, meget sterkbygget, med tykke sorte øyenbryn og et kraftig, energisk ansikt. Han bar en tarvelig, noe loslitt drakt, og hans utseende var veirbitt som hos en mann som har tilbrakt størstedelen av sin tid i friluft; men det var noe i hans faste blikk og sikre opptreden som viste at han var en gentleman.
Our breakfast-table was cleared early, and Holmes waited in his dressing-gown for the promised interview. Our clients were punctual to their appointment, for the clock had just struck ten when Dr. Mortimer was shown up, followed by the young baronet. The latter was a small, alert, dark-eyed man about thirty years of age, very sturdily built, with thick black eyebrows and a strong, pugnacious face. He wore a ruddy-tinted tweed suit and had the weather-beaten appearance of one who has spent most of his time in the open air, and yet there was something in his steady eye and the quiet assurance of his bearing which indicated the gentleman.
“ Sir Henry Baskerville ! ” presenterte doktor Mortimer.
"This is Sir Henry Baskerville," said Dr. Mortimer.
“ Merkelig nok, hr. Sherlock Holmes, ville jeg av egen drift ha søkt Dem denne morgenen hvis ikke min venn hadde bedt meg bli med. Som jeg forstår, gir De Dem av med å løse små gåter. Der er i dag hendt meg noe som det vil kreve mere ettertanke for å forklare enn det jeg selv er i stand til å yte. ”
"Why, yes," said he, "and the strange thing is, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, that if my friend here had not proposed coming round to you this morning I should have come on my own account. I understand that you think out little puzzles, and I've had one this morning which wants more thinking out than I am able to give it."
"Pray take a seat, Sir Henry. Do I understand you to say that you have yourself had some remarkable experience since you arrived in London?"
"Nothing of much importance, Mr. Holmes. Only a joke, as like as not. It was this letter, if you can call it a letter, which reached me this morning."
He laid an envelope upon the table, and we all bent over it. It was of common quality, grayish in colour. The address, "Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel," was printed in rough characters; the postmark "Charing Cross," and the date of posting the preceding evening.
"Who knew that you were going to the Northumberland Hotel?" asked Holmes, glancing keenly across at our visitor.
"No one could have known. We only decided after I met Dr. Mortimer."
"But Dr. Mortimer was no doubt already stopping there?"
"No, I had been staying with a friend," said the doctor. "There was no possible indication that we intended to go to this hotel."
“ Hm ! Der er åpenbart noen som synes dypt interessert i hva De foretar Dem. ” Han tok et halvt ark papir opp av konvolutten, foldet i fire deler. Han åpnet det og la det foran seg på bordet. Langs midten av papiret var det dannet en setning ved å lime trykte, enkelte ord ved siden av hverandre. Setningen var lød således: Hvis De setter pris på Deres liv og forstand, så hold Dem vekk fra moen. Ordet “ moen ” var skrevet med blekk.
"Hum! Someone seems to be very deeply interested in your movements." Out of the envelope he took a half-sheet of foolscap paper folded into four. This he opened and spread flat upon the table. Across the middle of it a single sentence had been formed by the expedient of pasting printed words upon it. It ran: "As you value your life or your reason keep away from the moor." The word "moor" only was printed in ink.
"Now," said Sir Henry Baskerville, "perhaps you will tell me, Mr. Holmes, what in thunder is the meaning of that, and who it is that takes so much interest in my affairs?"
"What do you make of it, Dr. Mortimer? You must allow that there is nothing supernatural about this, at any rate?"
"No, sir, but it might very well come from someone who was convinced that the business is supernatural."
“ Hvilken sak ? ” spurte sir Henry kvasst. “ Det forekommer meg at dere, mine herrer, vet meget mere om alle mine anliggender enn jeg ? ”
"What business?" asked Sir Henry sharply. "It seems to me that all you gentlemen know a great deal more than I do about my own affairs."
"You shall share our knowledge before you leave this room, Sir Henry. I promise you that," said Sherlock Holmes. "We will confine ourselves for the present with your permission to this very interesting document, which must have been put together and posted yesterday evening. Have you yesterday's Times, Watson?"
“ Ja, den ligger der borte i kroken. ”
"It is here in the corner."
“ Tør jeg be Dem rekke meg den ? Takk, innsiden med lederartiklene ! ” Hans blikk løp hurtig opp og ned ad spaltene. “ Her er en glimrende artikkel om frihandel. Tillat meg å lese høyt et utdrag: “ De kan lokkes til å innbille Dem, at Deres egen særlige bedrift eller industri vil oppmuntres ved en beskyttelsestariff, men det er klart at en slik lovgivning i lengden må gjøre landet fattig, forminske prisene på våre innførselsvarer og senke de alminnelige livsvilkår i dette land. ” “ Hva sier De til det, Watson ? ” utbrøt Holmes muntert og gned hendene fornøyd. “ Er ikke det en utmerket betraktning ? ”
"Might I trouble you for it--the inside page, please, with the leading articles?" He glanced swiftly over it, running his eyes up and down the columns. "Capital article this on free trade. Permit me to give you an extract from it. 'You may be cajoled into imagining that your own special trade or your own industry will be encouraged by a protective tariff, but it stands to reason that such legislation must in the long run keep away wealth from the country, diminish the value of our imports, and lower the general conditions of life in this island.' What do you think of that, Watson?" cried Holmes in high glee, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction. "Don't you think that is an admirable sentiment?"
Dr. Mortimer looked at Holmes with an air of professional interest, and Sir Henry Baskerville turned a pair of puzzled dark eyes upon me.
“ Jeg kjenner ikke meget til tolltariffer og denslags, ” sa han, “ men det forekommer meg som om vi kommer noe vel langt fra saken. ”
"I don't know much about the tariff and things of that kind," said he; "but it seems to me we've got a bit off the trail so far as that note is concerned."
"On the contrary, I think we are particularly hot upon the trail, Sir Henry. Watson here knows more about my methods than you do, but I fear that even he has not quite grasped the significance of this sentence."
"No, I confess that I see no connection."
"And yet, my dear Watson, there is so very close a connection that the one is extracted out of the other. 'You,' 'your,' 'your,' 'life,' 'reason,' 'value,' 'keep away,' 'from the.' Don't you see now whence these words have been taken?"
"By thunder, you're right! Well, if that isn't smart!" cried Sir Henry.
"If any possible doubt remained it is settled by the fact that 'keep away' and 'from the' are cut out in one piece."
"Well, now--so it is!"
“ Dette overtreffer, hr. Holmes, alt hva jeg har kunnet tenke meg, ” sa doktor Mortimer og stirret forbauset på min venn. “ Jeg kunne forstå det om noen hadde sagt at disse ord var fra en avis; men at De skulle kunne si hvilken avis og fra hvilken artikkel i den, det er virkelig det merkeligste jeg ennå har opplevd. Hvordan kan De finne ut det ? ”
"Really, Mr. Holmes, this exceeds anything which I could have imagined," said Dr. Mortimer, gazing at my friend in amazement. "I could understand anyone saying that the words were from a newspaper; but that you should name which, and add that it came from the leading article, is really one of the most remarkable things which I have ever known. How did you do it?"
"I presume, Doctor, that you could tell the skull of a negro from that of an Esquimau?"
“Ja, naturligvis.”
"Most certainly."
“Men hvordan da?”
"But how?"
"Because that is my special hobby. The differences are obvious. The supra-orbital crest, the facial angle, the maxillary curve, the --"
“ Ja, men nå er dette mitt spesielle fag, og forskjellen er her ikke mindre iøynefallende. Det er for meg likeså stor forskjell mellom en Times-artikkels skutte bourgeois-sats og et av de billige aftenbladers slurvete trykk som mellom Deres neger og eskimo. Å kunne adskille skriftsorter er en av de mest elementære deler av forbryterfagmannens kunnskap. Jeg skal innrømme at da jeg var meget ung, kunne jeg nok forveksle forskjellige avisers artikler; men en leder i Times er særlig utpreget, og disse ord kan ikke være tatt annetsteds fra. Da ordene var laget igår, var det sannsynlig at man ville finne dem i en artikkel i gårsdagens nummer. ”
"But this is my special hobby, and the differences are equally obvious. There is as much difference to my eyes between the leaded bourgeois type of a Times article and the slovenly print of an evening half-penny paper as there could be between your negro and your Esquimau. The detection of types is one of the most elementary branches of knowledge to the special expert in crime, though I confess that once when I was very young I confused the Leeds Mercury with the Western Morning News. But a Times leader is entirely distinctive, and these words could have been taken from nothing else. As it was done yesterday the strong probability was that we should find the words in yesterday's issue."
"So far as I can follow you, then, Mr. Holmes," said Sir Henry Baskerville, "someone cut out this message with a scissors--"
"Nail-scissors," said Holmes. "You can see that it was a very short-bladed scissors, since the cutter had to take two snips over 'keep away.'"
"That is so. Someone, then, cut out the message with a pair of short-bladed scissors, pasted it with paste--"
“ Med gummi, ” sa Holmes.
"Gum," said Holmes.
"With gum on to the paper. But I want to know why the word 'moor' should have been written?"
"Because he could not find it in print. The other words were all simple and might be found in any issue, but 'moor' would be less common."
"Why, of course, that would explain it. Have you read anything else in this message, Mr. Holmes?"
“ Ja, det er et par antydninger, skjønt vedkommende har gjort seg mest mulig møye for å bortrydde et hvert spor. Adressen er, som De ser, skrevet med stygge bokstaver. Men Times er et blad som sjelden finnes uten i de dannede klasser. Vi må derfor gå ut fra at brevet er sammensatt av en dannet mann som ville fremstille seg som udannet. Hans forsøk på ikke å røpe sin egen skrift tyder på at De må eller vil komme til å kjenne den. De vil også legge merke til at ordene ikke er limt etter hverandre i rett linje, men at noen står noe høyere enn de andre. Ordet “ liv ” for eksempel har slett ikke sin rette plass. Dette kan tyde på skjødesløshet, men det kan også være et vitnesbyrd om at vedkommende har vært nervøs og har hatt hastverk. Jeg vil nærmest anta det siste. Saken har åpenbart vært av stor viktighet for ham, og det er ikke sannsynlig at man er skjødesløs når man skal sette sammen et slikt brev. Dersom han hadde hastverk står vi overfor det interessante spørsmål, hvorfor han hadde hastverk. Var nemlig brevet lagt i postkassen tidlig om morgenen, ville det jo allikevel ha nådd sir Henry før han forlot hotellet. Skulle vedkommende kanskje vært redd for å bli avbrutt — og i så fall av hvem ? ”
"There are one or two indications, and yet the utmost pains have been taken to remove all clues. The address, you observe is printed in rough characters. But the Times is a paper which is seldom found in any hands but those of the highly educated. We may take it, therefore, that the letter was composed by an educated man who wished to pose as an uneducated one, and his effort to conceal his own writing suggests that that writing might be known, or come to be known, by you. Again, you will observe that the words are not gummed on in an accurate line, but that some are much higher than others. 'Life,' for example is quite out of its proper place. That may point to carelessness or it may point to agitation and hurry upon the part of the cutter. On the whole I incline to the latter view, since the matter was evidently important, and it is unlikely that the composer of such a letter would be careless. If he were in a hurry it opens up the interesting question why he should be in a hurry, since any letter posted up to early morning would reach Sir Henry before he would leave his hotel. Did the composer fear an interruption--and from whom?"
"We are coming now rather into the region of guesswork," said Dr. Mortimer.
“ Si heller inn på sannsynlighetenes felt, hvor en veier mulighetene og velger det mest sannsynlige. Det er å bruke fantasien vitenskapelig, men vi går i våre spekulasjoner alltid ut fra et eller annet materielt grunnlag. De vil kalle det en gjetning, men jeg er omtrent overbevist om at adressen er skrevet på et hotell. ”
"Say, rather, into the region where we balance probabilities and choose the most likely. It is the scientific use of the imagination, but we have always some material basis on which to start our speculation. Now, you would call it a guess, no doubt, but I am almost certain that this address has been written in a hotel."
"How in the world can you say that?"
“ Dersom De undersøker den omhyggelig, vil De se at både blekk og penn har plaget den skrivende. Pennen har nektet å gjøre tjeneste to ganger i ett ord og er blitt tørr tre ganger i en kort adresse. Det viser at der må ha vært meget lite blekk i blekkhuset. I et privat hus lar man sjelden dette være tilfellet. Men i hoteller er det jo som oftest slik. Ja, jeg er ikke i synderlig tvil om at kunne vi undersøke papirkurvene på hotellene rundt Charing Cross, inntil vi fant levningene av den istykkerklippede Times-leder, kunne vi øyeblikkelig sikre oss den personen som har sendt dette besynderlige brevet. Men hva er dette ? ”
"If you examine it carefully you will see that both the pen and the ink have given the writer trouble. The pen has spluttered twice in a single word, and has run dry three times in a short address, showing that there was very little ink in the bottle. Now, a private pen or ink-bottle is seldom allowed to be in such a state, and the combination of the two must be quite rare. But you know the hotel ink and the hotel pen, where it is rare to get anything else. Yes, I have very little hesitation in saying that could we examine the waste-paper baskets of the hotels around Charing Cross until we found the remains of the mutilated Times leader we could lay our hands straight upon the person who sent this singular message. Halloa! Halloa! What's this?"
Sherlock Holmes undersøkte omhyggelig den papirlappen som ordene var limt fast på, i det han holdt det kun en tomme eller to fra øynene.
He was carefully examining the foolscap, upon which the words were pasted, holding it only an inch or two from his eyes.
"Well?"
"Nothing," said he, throwing it down. "It is a blank half-sheet of paper, without even a water-mark upon it. I think we have drawn as much as we can from this curious letter; and now, Sir Henry, has anything else of interest happened to you since you have been in London?"
“ Nei, ikke såvidt jeg vet, hr. Holmes. ”
"Why, no, Mr. Holmes. I think not."
"You have not observed anyone follow or watch you?"
"I seem to have walked right into the thick of a dime novel," said our visitor. "Why in thunder should anyone follow or watch me?"
"We are coming to that. You have nothing else to report to us before we go into this matter?"
"Well, it depends upon what you think worth reporting."
"I think anything out of the ordinary routine of life well worth reporting."
Sir Henry smilte.
Sir Henry smiled.
"I don't know much of British life yet, for I have spent nearly all my time in the States and in Canada. But I hope that to lose one of your boots is not part of the ordinary routine of life over here."
"You have lost one of your boots?"
"My dear sir," cried Dr. Mortimer, "it is only mislaid. You will find it when you return to the hotel. What is the use of troubling Mr. Holmes with trifles of this kind?"
"Well, he asked me for anything outside the ordinary routine."
"Exactly," said Holmes, "however foolish the incident may seem. You have lost one of your boots, you say?"
"Well, mislaid it, anyhow. I put them both outside my door last night, and there was only one in the morning. I could get no sense out of the chap who cleans them. The worst of it is that I only bought the pair last night in the Strand, and I have never had them on."
"If you have never worn them, why did you put them out to be cleaned?"
"They were tan boots and had never been varnished. That was why I put them out."
"Then I understand that on your arrival in London yesterday you went out at once and bought a pair of boots?"
“ Ja, jeg var i en hel del butikker. Doktor Mortimer fulgte meg. Når jeg er blitt godseier der nede må jeg jo kle meg noe bedre. Jeg er muligens blitt litt skjødesløs med mitt ytre der borte i vesten. Jeg kjøpte blant annet også disse brune støvlene for fem og tyve kroner. Den ene ble altså stjålet før jeg en gang hadde hatt dem på mine ben. ”
"I did a good deal of shopping. Dr. Mortimer here went round with me. You see, if I am to be squire down there I must dress the part, and it may be that I have got a little careless in my ways out West. Among other things I bought these brown boots--gave six dollars for them--and had one stolen before ever I had them on my feet."
"It seems a singularly useless thing to steal," said Sherlock Holmes. "I confess that I share Dr. Mortimer's belief that it will not be long before the missing boot is found."
"And, now, gentlemen," said the baronet with decision, "it seems to me that I have spoken quite enough about the little that I know. It is time that you kept your promise and gave me a full account of what we are all driving at."
"Your request is a very reasonable one," Holmes answered. "Dr. Mortimer, I think you could not do better than to tell your story as you told it to us."
Thus encouraged, our scientific friend drew his papers from his pocket, and presented the whole case as he had done upon the morning before. Sir Henry Baskerville listened with the deepest attention, and with an occasional exclamation of surprise.
“ Det ser nesten ut som om jeg er kommet til arven ved en hevn, ” sa han da den lange fortellingen var slutt. “ Jeg har jo hørt om denne hunden siden jeg var i barnekammeret. Det er vår slektshistorie, men før har det aldri falt meg inn å ta den alvorlig. Min onkels død — — — nei, det går alt sammen rundt for meg, jeg kan ikke klare det. De synes ikke å være helt på det rene med om dette er en sak for politiet eller for en prest. ”
"Well, I seem to have come into an inheritance with a vengeance," said he when the long narrative was finished. "Of course, I've heard of the hound ever since I was in the nursery. It's the pet story of the family, though I never thought of taking it seriously before. But as to my uncle's death--well, it all seems boiling up in my head, and I can't get it clear yet. You don't seem quite to have made up your mind whether it's a case for a policeman or a clergyman."
“ De har rett. ”
"Precisely."
"And now there's this affair of the letter to me at the hotel. I suppose that fits into its place."
"It seems to show that someone knows more than we do about what goes on upon the moor," said Dr. Mortimer.
"And also," said Holmes, "that someone is not ill-disposed towards you, since they warn you of danger."
"Or it may be that they wish, for their own purposes, to scare me away."
"Well, of course, that is possible also. I am very much indebted to you, Dr. Mortimer, for introducing me to a problem which presents several interesting alternatives. But the practical point which we now have to decide, Sir Henry, is whether it is or is not advisable for you to go to Baskerville Hall."
“ Hvorfor skulle jeg ikke det ? ”
"Why should I not go?"
"There seems to be danger."
"Do you mean danger from this family fiend or do you mean danger from human beings?"
"Well, that is what we have to find out."
“ Det får være hva det være vil. Min beslutning er tatt. Det er ingen djevel i helvete, hr. Holmes, og det finnes ikke noe menneske på jorden som kan forhindre meg fra å vende tilbake til min egen slektsgård. Det er mitt endelige svar. ” Sir Henrys mørke øyenbryn trakk seg sammen, og ansiktet blusset sterkt mens han snakket. Det var klart at Baskervillernes heftige temperament ikke var utslukt hos denne, deres siste ætling. “ Men, ” tilføyde han, “ Jeg har ennå ikke hatt tilstrekkelig tid til å tenke over alt som De har fortalt meg. Det er ikke så lett å treffe en avgjørelse på stående fot. Jeg ville gjerne få litt tid og ro på meg så jeg kan tenke nærmere over saken. Hør her, mine herrer. Klokken er nå halv tolv. Jeg går herfra rett tilbake til hotellet. Vil De og Deres venn Watson komme og spise lunch med oss klokken to ? Da vil jeg forhåpentligvis kunne si Dem bestemt hva jeg mener om dette. ”
"Whichever it is, my answer is fixed. There is no devil in hell, Mr. Holmes, and there is no man upon earth who can prevent me from going to the home of my own people, and you may take that to be my final answer." His dark brows knitted and his face flushed to a dusky red as he spoke. It was evident that the fiery temper of the Baskervilles was not extinct in this their last representative. "Meanwhile," said he, "I have hardly had time to think over all that you have told me. It's a big thing for a man to have to understand and to decide at one sitting. I should like to have a quiet hour by myself to make up my mind. Now, look here, Mr. Holmes, it's half-past eleven now and I am going back right away to my hotel. Suppose you and your friend, Dr. Watson, come round and lunch with us at two. I'll be able to tell you more clearly then how this thing strikes me."
“ Passer det for Dem, Watson ? ”
"Is that convenient to you, Watson?"
“Utmerket.”
"Perfectly."
"Then you may expect us. Shall I have a cab called?"
“ Nei takk, jeg foretrekker å spasere. Denne historie har nesten gjort meg urolig. ”
"I'd prefer to walk, for this affair has flurried me rather."
"I'll join you in a walk, with pleasure," said his companion.
“ Ja, så treffes vi igjen klokken to. God morgen ! På gjensyn ! ”
"Then we meet again at two o'clock. Au revoir, and good-morning!"
We heard the steps of our visitors descend the stair and the bang of the front door. In an instant Holmes had changed from the languid dreamer to the man of action.
"Your hat and boots, Watson, quick! Not a moment to lose!"
He rushed into his room in his dressing-gown and was back again in a few seconds in a frock-coat. We hurried together down the stairs and into the street. Dr. Mortimer and Baskerville were still visible about two hundred yards ahead of us in the direction of Oxford Street.
"Shall I run on and stop them?"
"Not for the world, my dear Watson. I am perfectly satisfied with your company if you will tolerate mine. Our friends are wise, for it is certainly a very fine morning for a walk."
Han økte hastigheten inntil avstanden mellom oss og dem var redusert til halvparten. I en avstand av hundre alen fulgte vi etter dem gjennom Oxford Street og ned gjennom Regent Street. Et øyeblikk stanset de og ga seg til å betrakte utstillingen i et vindu. Holmes gjorde straks likedan. Et minutt etter unslapp ham et lite, tilfreds utrop, og da jeg fulgte retningen av hans ivrig stirrende blikk, så jeg at en vogn med en mann i, som hadde holdt på den andre siden av gaten, nå kjørte langsomt nedover igjen.
He quickened his pace until we had decreased the distance which divided us by about half. Then, still keeping a hundred yards behind, we followed into Oxford Street and so down Regent Street. Once our friends stopped and stared into a shop window, upon which Holmes did the same. An instant afterwards he gave a little cry of satisfaction, and, following the direction of his eager eyes, I saw that a hansom cab with a man inside which had halted on the other side of the street was now proceeding slowly onward again.
"There's our man, Watson! Come along! We'll have a good look at him, if we can do no more."
Jeg oppdaget i det samme gjennom vognvinduet et ansikt med et busket, sort skjegg og et par gjennomtrengende øyne rettet like mot oss. Den lille klaffen ble øyeblikkelig åpnet, og det ble sagt noe til kusken. Vognen kjørte så i stor fart nedover Regent Street. Holmes så seg ivrig omkring etter en annen vogn, men det var ingen ledige i nærheten. Uten å betenke seg trengte han seg gjennom folkemengden og ga seg til å springe etter vognen; men den hadde allerede et altfor stort forsprang, og det varte ikke lenge før den var ute av syne.
At that instant I was aware of a bushy black beard and a pair of piercing eyes turned upon us through the side window of the cab. Instantly the trapdoor at the top flew up, something was screamed to the driver, and the cab flew madly off down Regent Street. Holmes looked eagerly round for another, but no empty one was in sight. Then he dashed in wild pursuit amid the stream of the traffic, but the start was too great, and already the cab was out of sight.
"There now!" said Holmes bitterly as he emerged panting and white with vexation from the tide of vehicles. "Was ever such bad luck and such bad management, too? Watson, Watson, if you are an honest man you will record this also and set it against my successes!"
“ Hvem var den mannen ? ”
"Who was the man?"
“ Det har jeg ikke den minste idé om. ”
"I have not an idea."
“En spion?”
"A spy?"
“ Etter hva vi har hørt er det jo klart at sir Henry er blitt meget omhyggelig overvåket av en eller annen siden han kom her. Hvordan kunne det ellers blitt så raskt kjent at han var tatt inn på Northumberland Hotel ! Når man har fulgt etter ham første dag, gikk jeg ut fra at det også ville bli gjort den andre. De la merke til at jeg var borte ved vinduet to ganger mens doktor Mortimer fortalte sin historie ? ”
"Well, it was evident from what we have heard that Baskerville has been very closely shadowed by someone since he has been in town. How else could it be known so quickly that it was the Northumberland Hotel which he had chosen? If they had followed him the first day I argued that they would follow him also the second. You may have observed that I twice strolled over to the window while Dr. Mortimer was reading his legend."
“ Ja, jeg så det. ”
"Yes, I remember."
“ Jeg så etter om jeg ikke kunne oppdage noen på lur i gaten, men det fantes ingen. Det er sikkert en dyktig mann vi er ute for. Jeg har stadig følelsen av å stå overfor en fast vilje. Ennå kan jeg dog ikke avgjøre om det er en velvillig eller fiendtlig makt som vi har å gjøre med. Da våre venner gikk fulgte jeg øyeblikkelig etter dem i håp om å kunne oppdage deres usynlige ledsager. Men han var så listig at han ikke gikk til fots, men hadde gjemt seg i en vogn som han kunne sitte og lure i og følge etter dem, uten at noen la merke til ham. Hans fremgangsmåte hadde også fordelen at hvis de tok en vogn, ville han dermed også kunne følge etter dem straks. Men vognen har én ulempe. ”
"I was looking out for loiterers in the street, but I saw none. We are dealing with a clever man, Watson. This matter cuts very deep, and though I have not finally made up my mind whether it is a benevolent or a malevolent agency which is in touch with us, I am conscious always of power and design. When our friends left I at once followed them in the hopes of marking down their invisible attendant. So wily was he that he had not trusted himself upon foot, but he had availed himself of a cab so that he could loiter behind or dash past them and so escape their notice. His method had the additional advantage that if they were to take a cab he was all ready to follow them. It has, however, one obvious disadvantage."
“ Han er i kuskens vold. ”
"It puts him in the power of the cabman."
“Ja, nettopp.”
"Exactly."
"What a pity we did not get the number!"
"My dear Watson, clumsy as I have been, you surely do not seriously imagine that I neglected to get the number? No. 2704 is our man. But that is no use to us for the moment."
"I fail to see how you could have done more."
“ Da jeg oppdaget vognen, skulle jeg øyeblikkelig ha gjort helt om og gått i motsatt retning. Så skulle jeg straks selv tatt en vogn og fulgt den andre på avstand, eller heller kjørt rett til Northumberland Hotel og ventet der. Når den ukjente så hadde fulgt etter sir Henry til hotellet, ville vi fanget ham i hans egen snare og sett hva han hadde fore. Ved vår altfor overdrevne iver, som vår motstander forstod å benytte seg av med forbausende raskhet og energi, har vi røpet oss selv, og fuglen er fløyet ! ”
"On observing the cab I should have instantly turned and walked in the other direction. I should then at my leisure have hired a second cab and followed the first at a respectful distance, or, better still, have driven to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there. When our unknown had followed Baskerville home we should have had the opportunity of playing his own game upon himself and seeing where he made for. As it is, by an indiscreet eagerness, which was taken advantage of with extraordinary quickness and energy by our opponent, we have betrayed ourselves and lost our man."
Vi var under samtalen drevet sakte ned Regent Street, og doktor Mortimer var forlengst forsvunnet med sin ledsager.
We had been sauntering slowly down Regent Street during this conversation, and Dr. Mortimer, with his companion, had long vanished in front of us.
"There is no object in our following them," said Holmes. "The shadow has departed and will not return. We must see what further cards we have in our hands and play them with decision. Could you swear to that man's face within the cab?"
“ Med sikkerhet vil jeg bare kunne gjenkjenne skjegget. ”
"I could swear only to the beard."
"And so could I--from which I gather that in all probability it was a false one. A clever man upon so delicate an errand has no use for a beard save to conceal his features. Come in here, Watson!"
He turned into one of the district messenger offices, where he was warmly greeted by the manager.
"Ah, Wilson, I see you have not forgotten the little case in which I had the good fortune to help you?"
“ Så visst ikke. De frelste mitt gode navn; kanskje mitt liv. ”
"No, sir, indeed I have not. You saved my good name, and perhaps my life."
“ Nei, snille venn, nå overdriver De. Tar jeg ikke feil, hadde De blant Deres gutter en ved navn Cartwright, som viste seg å være meget flink. ”
"My dear fellow, you exaggerate. I have some recollection, Wilson, that you had among your boys a lad named Cartwright, who showed some ability during the investigation."
“ Jo, han er her fremdeles. ”
"Yes, sir, he is still with us."
"Could you ring him up?--thank you! And I should be glad to have change of this five-pound note."
A lad of fourteen, with a bright, keen face, had obeyed the summons of the manager. He stood now gazing with great reverence at the famous detective.
"Let me have the Hotel Directory," said Holmes. "Thank you! Now, Cartwright, there are the names of twenty-three hotels here, all in the immediate neighbourhood of Charing Cross. Do you see?"
“Jo, hr. Holmes!”
"Yes, sir."
"You will visit each of these in turn."
“Ja.”
"Yes, sir."
"You will begin in each case by giving the outside porter one shilling. Here are twenty-three shillings."
“Takk!”
"Yes, sir."
"You will tell him that you want to see the waste-paper of yesterday. You will say that an important telegram has miscarried and that you are looking for it. You understand?"
“Ja, hr. Holmes.”
"Yes, sir."
"But what you are really looking for is the centre page of the Times with some holes cut in it with scissors. Here is a copy of the Times. It is this page. You could easily recognize it, could you not?"
“Jo, hr. Holmes.”
"Yes, sir."
“ Portneren ved inngangen vil sende bud etter portneren inne i forhallen. De får også gi ham en krone. Her er tre og tyve kroner til. I tyve av treogtyve tilfelle vil De vel få beskjed om at innholdet av papirkurvene for dagen før er brakt bort eller brent. I de andre vil man vise Dem en papirhaug. I den må De søke etter denne siden av Times. Der er størst sansynlighet for at De ikke vil finne den. Men er De heldig skal De få en ekstrabelønning. Telegrafer om utfallet til Baker Street før aftenen. — Og nå, Watson, står det bare tilbake å finne ut hvem vognmannen med nummer 2704 er. Siden vil vi titte innom et av billedgalleriene i Bond Street og slå tiden i hjel til vi skal være på hotellet. ” * * *
"In each case the outside porter will send for the hall porter, to whom also you will give a shilling. Here are twenty-three shillings. You will then learn in possibly twenty cases out of the twenty-three that the waste of the day before has been burned or removed. In the three other cases you will be shown a heap of paper and you will look for this page of the Times among it. The odds are enormously against your finding it. There are ten shillings over in case of emergencies. Let me have a report by wire at Baker Street before evening. And now, Watson, it only remains for us to find out by wire the identity of the cabman, No. 2704, and then we will drop into one of the Bond Street picture galleries and fill in the time until we are due at the hotel."
Femte kapitel. Tre brutte tråder.
Chapter 5 Three Broken Threads
SHERLOCK Holmes hadde en sjelden evne til å beherske sin sinnsstemning etter behag. For et par timer var den merkelige saken vi var kommet opp i fullstendig glemt; han gikk helt opp i betraktningen av de moderne belgiske mesteres bilder. Han ville ikke høre snakk om noe annet enn kunst, som han hadde de mest særegne idéer om, fra vi forlot galleriet inntil vi stod foran Northumberland Hotel.
Sherlock Holmes had, in a very remarkable degree, the power of detaching his mind at will. For two hours the strange business in which we had been involved appeared to be forgotten, and he was entirely absorbed in the pictures of the modern Belgian masters. He would talk of nothing but art, of which he had the crudest ideas, from our leaving the gallery until we found ourselves at the Northumberland Hotel.
"Sir Henry Baskerville is upstairs expecting you," said the clerk. "He asked me to show you up at once when you came."
"Have you any objection to my looking at your register?" said Holmes.
“Med fornøyelse.”
"Not in the least."
The book showed that two names had been added after that of Baskerville. One was Theophilus Johnson and family, of Newcastle; the other Mrs. Oldmore and maid, of High Lodge, Alton.
"Surely that must be the same Johnson whom I used to know," said Holmes to the porter. "A lawyer, is he not, gray-headed, and walks with a limp?"
"No, sir; this is Mr. Johnson, the coal-owner, a very active gentleman, not older than yourself."
"Surely you are mistaken about his trade?"
"No, sir! he has used this hotel for many years, and he is very well known to us."
"Ah, that settles it. Mrs. Oldmore, too; I seem to remember the name. Excuse my curiosity, but often in calling upon one friend one finds another."
"She is an invalid lady, sir. Her husband was once mayor of Gloucester. She always comes to us when she is in town."
“ Mange takk. Jeg er redd jeg ikke kjenner henne. ” “ Vi har nå fått fastslått en ytterst viktig kjennsgjerning, Watson, ” hvisket han til meg mens vi gikk opp. “ Vi vet nå at de som er så interessert for vår venn ikke har tatt inn i det samme hotell som han. Vi kan derav slutte at de vel gjør alt mulig for å overvåke ham, men samtidig er ytterst redd for at han skal oppdage dem. Det er en kjennsgjerning som det kan sluttes adskillig av. ”
"Thank you; I am afraid I cannot claim her acquaintance. We have established a most important fact by these questions, Watson," he continued in a low voice as we went upstairs together. "We know now that the people who are so interested in our friend have not settled down in his own hotel. That means that while they are, as we have seen, very anxious to watch him, they are equally anxious that he should not see them. Now, this is a most suggestive fact."
"What does it suggest?"
"It suggests--halloa, my dear fellow, what on earth is the matter?"
Da vi kom opp trappen, støtte vi like på sir Henry selv. Hans ansikt var blodrødt av sinne, og han holdt en gammel, støvet støvel i den ene hånden. Han var så rasende at han nesten ikke kunne få et ord frem, og da han begynte å snakke, var det i en langt bredere dialekt fra vesten enn vi hadde hørt ham bruke hittil.
As we came round the top of the stairs we had run up against Sir Henry Baskerville himself. His face was flushed with anger, and he held an old and dusty boot in one of his hands. So furious was he that he was hardly articulate, and when he did speak it was in a much broader and more Western dialect than any which we had heard from him in the morning.
“ Det ser ut som om de tar meg for en idiot i dette hotellet, ” utbrøt han. “ Passer de seg ikke, skal de nok få føle at jeg ikke er den rette mannen å drive ablegøyer med. Finner ikke den oppvarterknekt min bortkomne støvel, skal her bli hus. Jeg kan godt tåle en spøk, hvem den så kommer fra, hr. Holmes, men denne gang er de gått adskillig over streken. ”
"Seems to me they are playing me for a sucker in this hotel," he cried. "They'll find they've started in to monkey with the wrong man unless they are careful. By thunder, if that chap can't find my missing boot there will be trouble. I can take a joke with the best, Mr. Holmes, but they've got a bit over the mark this time."
“ Holder De ennå på å lete etter Deres støvel ? ”
"Still looking for your boot?"
"Yes, sir, and mean to find it."
"But, surely, you said that it was a new brown boot?"
"So it was, sir. And now it's an old black one."
“Hva! De mener da vel ikke — — ”
"What! you don't mean to say----?"
"That's just what I do mean to say. I only had three pairs in the world--the new brown, the old black, and the patent leathers, which I am wearing. Last night they took one of my brown ones, and to-day they have sneaked one of the black. Well, have you got it? Speak out, man, and don't stand staring!"
An agitated German waiter had appeared upon the scene.
"No, sir; I have made inquiry all over the hotel, but I can hear no word of it."
"Well, either that boot comes back before sundown or I'll see the manager and tell him that I go right straight out of this hotel."
"It shall be found, sir--I promise you that if you will have a little patience it will be found."
"Mind it is, for it's the last thing of mine that I'll lose in this den of thieves. Well, well, Mr. Holmes, you'll excuse my troubling you about such a trifle----"
"I think it's well worth troubling about."
“ Så, De tar det meget alvorlig ? ”
"Why, you look very serious over it."
“ Hvordan forklarer De Dem det ? ”
"How do you explain it?"
"I just don't attempt to explain it. It seems the very maddest, queerest thing that ever happened to me."
“Ja, kanskje det mest underlige,” svarte Holmes tankefullt.
"The queerest perhaps----" said Holmes, thoughtfully.
“Hva mener De om det?”
"What do you make of it yourself?"
“ Ja, jeg vil ikke påstå jeg forstår det ennå. Denne saken er meget innviklet, sir Henry. Når jeg setter den i forbindelse med Deres onkels død, tror jeg ikke noen av alle de fem hundrede sakene jeg har hatt å gjøre med, har vært så dunkel. Men vi har forskjellige tråder på hånden, og det sannsynligste er at en eller annen av dem vil føre oss på rette sporet. Vi kan nok komme til å spille tid mens vi forfølger et feilaktig, men før eller senere må vi komme på det rette. ”
"Well, I don't profess to understand it yet. This case of yours is very complex, Sir Henry. When taken in conjunction with your uncle's death I am not sure that of all the five hundred cases of capital importance which I have handled there is one which cuts so deep. But we hold several threads in our hands, and the odds are that one or other of them guides us to the truth. We may waste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later we must come upon the right."
We had a pleasant luncheon in which little was said of the business which had brought us together. It was in the private sitting-room to which we afterwards repaired that Holmes asked Baskerville what were his intentions.
“ Å ta til Baskerville herregård. ”
"To go to Baskerville Hall."
“Når?”
"And when?"
“I slutten av uken.”
"At the end of the week."
“ Jeg tror at Deres beslutning er fornuftig. Jeg er helt sikker på at De overvåkes her i London, men blant alle disse millioner er det ytterst vanskelig å oppdage hvem disse folkene er, eller hva deres mål kan være. Dersom disse folkene har onde hensikter kan de komme til å skade Dem uten at det står i vår makt å kunne hindre det. De visste ikke, doktor Mortimer, at De idag ble forfulgt fra mitt hjem ? ”
"On the whole," said Holmes, "I think that your decision is a wise one. I have ample evidence that you are being dogged in London, and amid the millions of this great city it is difficult to discover who these people are or what their object can be. If their intentions are evil they might do you a mischief, and we should be powerless to prevent it. You did not know, Dr. Mortimer, that you were followed this morning from my house?"
Doktor Mortimer fór voldsomt sammen.
Dr. Mortimer started violently.
“ Forfulgt ! Av hvem ? ”
"Followed! By whom?"
"That, unfortunately, is what I cannot tell you. Have you among your neighbours or acquaintances on Dartmoor any man with a black, full beard?"
"No--or, let me see--why, yes. Barrymore, Sir Charles's butler, is a man with a full, black beard."
“ Så ! Hvor er Barrymore ? ”
"Ha! Where is Barrymore?"
“ Han har oppsyn med herregården. ”
"He is in charge of the Hall."
"We had best ascertain if he is really there, or if by any possibility he might be in London."
"How can you do that?"
“ Rekk meg en telegramblankett. ” Holmes skrev: “ Er allting klart for Sir Henry Baskerville ? ” “ Det er tilstrekkelig, ” sa han. “ Vi adresserer det til hr. Barrymore, Baskerville herregård. Hvor er den nærmeste telegrafstasjonen ? ” “ Grimpen. ” “ Godt. Vi sender et telegram til postmesteren i Grimpen: Telegram til hr. Barrymore. Må overleveres personlig. Hvis fraværende, vær vennlig telegrafer tibake: Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel. ” Nå tenker jeg vi innen aftenen vil ha beskjed om Barrymore er på sin post i Devonshire eller ikke. ”
"Give me a telegraph form. 'Is all ready for Sir Henry?' That will do. Address to Mr. Barrymore, Baskerville Hall. What is the nearest telegraph-office? Grimpen. Very good, we will send a second wire to the postmaster, Grimpen: 'Telegram to Mr. Barrymore to be delivered into his own hand. If absent, please return wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel.' That should let us know before evening whether Barrymore is at his post in Devonshire or not."
"That's so," said Baskerville. "By the way, Dr. Mortimer, who is this Barrymore, anyhow?"
"He is the son of the old caretaker, who is dead. They have looked after the Hall for four generations now. So far as I know, he and his wife are as respectable a couple as any in the county."
"At the same time," said Baskerville, "it's clear enough that so long as there are none of the family at the Hall these people have a mighty fine home and nothing to do."
“ Ja, det er sant. ”
"That is true."
"Did Barrymore profit at all by Sir Charles's will?" asked Holmes.
“ Han og hans hustru fikk ni tusen kroner hver. ”
"He and his wife had five hundred pounds each."
"Ha! Did they know that they would receive this?"
"Yes; Sir Charles was very fond of talking about the provisions of his will."
“ Det er meget interessant. ”
"That is very interesting."
"I hope," said Dr. Mortimer, "that you do not look with suspicious eyes upon everyone who received a legacy from Sir Charles, for I also had a thousand pounds left to me."
“ Nei virkelig ! Fikk noen andre også noe ? ”
"Indeed! And anyone else?"
“ Det var testamentert mange mindre summer til forskjellige personer og velgjørende formål. Resten av formuen tilfalt sir Henry Baskerville. ”
"There were many insignificant sums to individuals, and a large number of public charities. The residue all went to Sir Henry."
"And how much was the residue?"
“Over tretten millioner kroner.”
"Seven hundred and forty thousand pounds."
Holmes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I had no idea that so gigantic a sum was involved," said he.
"Sir Charles had the reputation of being rich, but we did not know how very rich he was until we came to examine his securities. The total value of the estate was close on to a million."
"Dear me! It is a stake for which a man might well play a desperate game. And one more question, Dr. Mortimer. Supposing that anything happened to our young friend here--you will forgive the unpleasant hypothesis!--who would inherit the estate?"
"Since Rodger Baskerville, Sir Charles's younger brother died unmarried, the estate would descend to the Desmonds, who are distant cousins. James Desmond is an elderly clergyman in Westmoreland."
"Thank you. These details are all of great interest. Have you met Mr. James Desmond?"
"Yes; he once came down to visit Sir Charles. He is a man of venerable appearance and of saintly life. I remember that he refused to accept any settlement from Sir Charles, though he pressed it upon him."
"And this man of simple tastes would be the heir to Sir Charles's thousands."
"He would be the heir to the estate because that is entailed. He would also be the heir to the money unless it were willed otherwise by the present owner, who can, of course, do what he likes with it."
"And have you made your will, Sir Henry?"
“ Nei, hr. Holmes, det har jeg ikke. Det har jeg ikke hatt tid til, for jeg fikk først vite igår hvordan sakene står. Men under alle omstendigheter burde pengene følge eiendommen og tittelen. Det var min stakkars onkels ønske. Hvordan kan eieren opprettholde Baskervillernes tradisjoner hvis han ikke har nok penge til å holde eiendommen i ordentlig stand. Hus, jord og penger må følges ad. ”
"No, Mr. Holmes, I have not. I've had no time, for it was only yesterday that I learned how matters stood. But in any case I feel that the money should go with the title and estate. That was my poor uncle's idea. How is the owner going to restore the glories of the Baskervilles if he has not money enough to keep up the property? House, land, and dollars must go together."
"Quite so. Well, Sir Henry, I am of one mind with you as to the advisability of your going down to Devonshire without delay. There is only one provision which I must make. You certainly must not go alone."
“ Doktor Mortimer blir med. ”
"Dr. Mortimer returns with me."
"But Dr. Mortimer has his practice to attend to, and his house is miles away from yours. With all the good will in the world he may be unable to help you. No, Sir Henry, you must take with you someone, a trusty man, who will be always by your side."
"Is it possible that you could come yourself, Mr. Holmes?"
“ Dersom det kommer til en krise vil jeg forsøke å innfinne meg; men De kan nok forstå at så opptatt som jeg er med alle de henvendelsene jeg mottar fra så mange kanter, er det umulig for meg å bli borte fra London på ubestemt tid. For øyeblikket er et av Englands mest aktede navn blitt besudlet av en bakvasker, og jeg er den eneste som kan stanse en skjebnesvanger skandale. De forstår derfor at det er ganske umulig for meg å reise til Dartmoor. ”
"If matters came to a crisis I should endeavour to be present in person; but you can understand that, with my extensive consulting practice and with the constant appeals which reach me from many quarters, it is impossible for me to be absent from London for an indefinite time. At the present instant one of the most revered names in England is being besmirched by a blackmailer, and only I can stop a disastrous scandal. You will see how impossible it is for me to go to Dartmoor."
"Whom would you recommend, then?"
Holmes la sin hånd på min arm.
Holmes laid his hand upon my arm.
"If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is better worth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No one can say so more confidently than I."
The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before I had time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand and wrung it heartily.
"Well, now, that is real kind of you, Dr. Watson," said he. "You see how it is with me, and you know just as much about the matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall and see me through I'll never forget it."
The promise of adventure had always a fascination for me, and I was complimented by the words of Holmes and by the eagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion.
"I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how I could employ my time better."
"And you will report very carefully to me," said Holmes. "When a crisis comes, as it will do, I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?"
“ Passer det for doktor Watson ? ”
"Would that suit Dr. Watson?"
“Utmerket.”
"Perfectly."
"Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shall meet at the 10:30 train from Paddington."
We had risen to depart when Baskerville gave a cry, of triumph, and diving into one of the corners of the room he drew a brown boot from under a cabinet.
"My missing boot!" he cried.
"May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said Sherlock Holmes.
“ Men det er høyst merkelig, ” bemerket doktor Mortimer, “ Jeg undersøkte værelset meget omhyggelig før lunchen. ”
"But it is a very singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "I searched this room carefully before lunch."
“ Det samme gjorde jeg, ” sa sir Henry. “ Jeg undersøkte hver tomme av det. ”
"And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every inch of it."
“ Det var sannsynligvis ingen støvel her da. ”
"There was certainly no boot in it then."
"In that case the waiter must have placed it there while we were lunching."
Det ble sendt bud etter den tyske oppvarteren, men han forsikret at han ikke kjente det minste til det hele, og kunne ikke gi noen opplysninger. Et nytt ledd var føyet til den tilsynelatende formålsløse rekke mysterier som hadde fulgt så raskt på hverandre. Bortsett fra den uhyggelige historien om sir Charles ' død hadde vi i løpet av to dager opplevd en hel rekke av uforklarlige begivenheter, blant annet mottagelsen av brevet, spionen med det sorte skjegget i vognen, den nye brune og den gamle sorte støvels forsvinningsnummer og nå igjen den nye brunes tilbakekomst. Sherlock Holmes kjørte tilbake til Baker Street. På hans rynkede bryn og skarpe ansiktsuttrykk kunne jeg se at hans hjerne arbeidet ivrig med å finne en sammenheng mellom alle disse underlige og øyensynlig så forskjelligartede begivenhetene. Hele ettermiddagen til langt ut på aftenen satt han i tette tobakkskyer og grublet.
The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of the matter, nor could any inquiry clear it up. Another item had been added to that constant and apparently purposeless series of small mysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Setting aside the whole grim story of Sir Charles's death, we had a line of inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, which included the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy in the hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the old black boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmes sat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and I knew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like my own, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme into which all these strange and apparently disconnected episodes could be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lost in tobacco and thought.
Like før middag kom to telegrammer. Det første lød:
Just before dinner two telegrams were handed in. The first ran:--
"Have just heard that Barrymore is at the Hall.--BASKERVILLE." The second:--
"Visited twenty-three hotels as directed, but sorry, to report unable to trace cut sheet of Times.--CARTWRIGHT."
"There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you. We must cast round for another scent."
"We have still the cabman who drove the spy."
"Exactly. I have wired to get his name and address from the Official Registry. I should not be surprised if this were an answer to my question."
The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and a rough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself.
"I got a message from the head office that a gent at this address had been inquiring for 2704," said he. "I've driven my cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I came here straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you had against me."
"I have nothing in the world against you, my good man," said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for you if you will give me a clear answer to my questions."
"Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabman, with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?"
"First of all your name and address, in case I want you again."
“ John Clayton, Turpey Street nr. 3. Jeg holder i nærheten av Waterloo stasjon. ”
"John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is out of Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station."
Sherlock Holmes noterte det ned.
Sherlock Holmes made a note of it.
"Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came and watched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwards followed the two gentlemen down Regent Street."
The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Why, there's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know as much as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentleman told me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothing about him to anyone."
"My good fellow, this is a very serious business, and you may find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hide anything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was a detective?"
“ Ja, det gjorde han. ”
"Yes, he did."
“ Når sa han det ? ”
"When did he say this?"
“ Da han gikk ifra meg. ”
"When he left me."
“ Sa han noe mere ? ”
"Did he say anything more?"
“ Han oppga sitt navn. ”
"He mentioned his name."
Holmes cast a swift glance of triumph at me. "Oh, he mentioned his name, did he? That was imprudent. What was the name that he mentioned?"
"His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes."
Never have I seen my friend more completely taken aback than by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silent amazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh.
"A touch, Watson--an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel a foil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me very prettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?"
“ Ja, han sa så. ”
"Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name."
"Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all that occurred."
“ Han anropte meg klokken halv ti ved Trafalgar Square. Han fortalte at han var detektiv, og han lovet meg tredive kroner hvis jeg hele dagen ville gjøre som han sa, og ikke spørre om noe. Jeg var naturligvis glad til og sa straks ja. Vi kjørte først ned til Northumberland Hotel og ventet utenfor der inntil to herrer kom ut og tok en vogn. Vi fulgte etter den inntil den stanset et sted her i nærheten. ”
"He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He said that he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I would do exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I was glad enough to agree. First we drove down to the Northumberland Hotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took a cab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled up somewhere near here."
“ Utenfor døren her ? ” spurte Holmes.
"This very door," said Holmes.
"Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knew all about it. We pulled up half-way down the street and waited an hour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, and we followed down Baker Street and along ----"
"I know," said Holmes.
“ Inntil vi var kommet tre fjerdeparter ned i Regent Street. Her ropte den fremmede til meg at jeg skulle kjøre hurtigst mulig rett til Waterloo stasjon. Jeg pisket på hesten, og det tok ikke ti minutter heller før vi var der. Her betalte han meg ærlig og redelig de tredive kroner og forsvant så øyeblikkelig inn på stasjonen. I det samme han steg ut, snudde han seg om og sa: “ Det vil kanskje interessere Dem å vite at De har kjørt Sherlock Holmes. Sånn fikk jeg høre navnet. ”
"Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then my gentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should drive right away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whipped up the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then he paid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went into the station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and he said: 'It might interest you to know that you have been driving Mr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name."
“ Og siden så De ikke mer til ham ? ”
"I see. And you saw no more of him?"
"Not after he went into the station."
"And how would you describe Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
The cabman scratched his head. "Well, he wasn't altogether such an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years of age, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorter than you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a black beard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as I could say more than that."
“ Hvordan var farven på øynene ? ”
"Colour of his eyes?"
"No, I can't say that."
"Nothing more that you can remember?"
"No, sir; nothing."
"Well, then, here is your half-sovereign. There's another one waiting for you if you can bring any more information. Good night!"
“God aften. Mange takk!”
"Good night, sir, and thank you!"
John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to me with a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile.
“ Vår tredje tråd er røket, og vi ender hvor vi begynte, ” sa han. “ Det var en listig kar. Han visste hvor vi bodde, visste at sir Henry Baskerville hadde rådført seg med meg, gjettet hvem jeg var i Regent Street, forutsatte at jeg hadde sett nummeret på vognen og ville få tak i vognmannen. Han benyttet straks leiligheten til å sende oss denne frekke hilsenen. Jeg kan forsikre Dem, Watson, at denne gangen er vi ute for en fullverdig motstander. Han har fullstendig slått meg av marken her i London, og jeg kan bare ønske Dem bedre lykke i Devonshire. Men jeg gjør det ikke med lett sinn. ”
"Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began," said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew that Sir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was in Regent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the cab and would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back this audacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got a foeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated in London. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it."
“Hva for noe?”
"About what?"
"About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes, my dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more."
Sjette kapitel. Baskerville herregård.
Chapter 6 Baskerville Hall
Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr. Mortimer were ready upon the appointed day, and we started as arranged for Devonshire. Mr. Sherlock Holmes drove with me to the station and gave me his last parting injunctions and advice.
"I will not bias your mind by suggesting theories or suspicions, Watson," said he; "I wish you simply to report facts in the fullest possible manner to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing."
“ Hva slags kjennsgjerninger ? ” spurte jeg.
"What sort of facts?" I asked.
“ Alt som på noen måte synes å stå i forbindelse, selv bare indirekte, med saken, og særlig da forholdet mellom den unge sir Henry og hans naboer, foruten alle nye omstendigheter angående sir Charles Baskervilles død. Jeg har selv anstilt en del undersøkelser de siste dagene, men jeg er redd for at resultatene vil bli negative. Kun én ting synes å være sikkert, og det er at James Desmond, som er den nærmeste arvingen, er en eldre, meget elskverdig mann. Forfølgelsen kan ikke komme fra ham. Jeg tror virkelig at vi derfor må sette ham fullstendig utenfor alle våre beregninger. Men vi har tilbake de personene som nå vil bli sir Henrys omgivelser der ute på moen. ”
"Anything which may seem to have a bearing however indirect upon the case, and especially the relations between young Baskerville and his neighbours or any fresh particulars concerning the death of Sir Charles. I have made some inquiries myself in the last few days, but the results have, I fear, been negative. One thing only appears to be certain, and that is that Mr. James Desmond, who is the next heir, is an elderly gentleman of a very amiable disposition, so that this persecution does not arise from him. I really think that we may eliminate him entirely from our calculations. There remain the people who will actually surround Sir Henry Baskerville upon the moor."
"Would it not be well in the first place to get rid of this Barrymore couple?"
“ Nei, aldeles ikke. De kunne ikke begå noen større feil. Dersom de er uskyldige, ville det være grusomt urettferdig, og er de skyldige, ville vi forspille enhver mulighet for å bevise det. Nei, nei, vi vil beholde dem på vår liste over mistenkte. På Baskerville herregård finnes der også, hvis jeg ikke tar feil, en kusk. Vi har endvidere to forpaktere. Vi har vår venn doktor Mortimer, som jeg anser for å være fullstendig hederlig, og hans kone, som vi ikke vet noe om. Så har vi denne naturforskeren Stapleton og hans søster, som skal være en meget inntagende ung dame. Endelig har vi Frankland på Lafter herregård, som også er en ukjent faktor, og et par andre naboer. Alle må De vie et særlig studium. ”
"By no means. You could not make a greater mistake. If they are innocent it would be a cruel injustice, and if they are guilty we should be giving up all chance of bringing it home to them. No, no, we will preserve them upon our list of suspects. Then there is a groom at the Hall, if I remember right. There are two moorland farmers. There is our friend Dr. Mortimer, whom I believe to be entirely honest, and there is his wife, of whom we know nothing. There is this naturalist, Stapleton, and there is his sister, who is said to be a young lady of attractions. There is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who is also an unknown factor, and there are one or two other neighbours. These are the folk who must be your very special study."
"I will do my best."
“ De har vel våpen med Dem ?
"You have arms, I suppose?"
"Yes, I thought it as well to take them."
“ Selvfølgelig. Pass på å ha revolver på Dem natt og dag og vær alltid på Deres post. ”
"Most certainly. Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions."
Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting for us upon the platform.
“ Nei, vi har ikke noe som helst nytt å meddele, ” sa doktor Mortimer som svar på min venns spørsmål. “ På en ting kan jeg i alle fall sverge, og det er at vi ikke er blitt skygget de to siste dagene. Når vi har gått ut har vi alltid holdt så skarpt utkikk at ingen ville ha kunnet unngå vår oppmerksomhet. ”
"No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our notice."
"You have always kept together, I presume?"
"Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of Surgeons."
"And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville. "But we had no trouble of any kind."
"It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone. Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other boot?"
“ Nei, hr. Holmes, den er sporløst forsvunnet. ”
"No, sir, it is gone forever."
"Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us, and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil are exalted."
I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind, and saw the tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us.
Dagen gikk hurtig og behagelig. Jeg nyttet tiden til å stifte et nærmere bekjentskap med mine to ledsagere og med å leke med doktor Mortimers hund. Etter noen timers forløp begynte den brune jorden å anta et rødlig skjær, murstenen avløstes av granitt, og røde kyr gresset på enger inngjerdet med vakre hekker, hvor det saftige gresset og en frodigere plantevekst vitnet om et rikere, om enn fuktigere klima. Den unge sir Henry så med oppmerksomme øyne på omgivelsene og ga høylydt uttrykk for gleden over gjensynet med Devons kjære og kjente natur.
The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared eagerly out of the window, and cried aloud with delight as he recognized the familiar features of the Devon scenery.
"I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson," said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it."
"I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I remarked.
“ Det beror likeså meget på rasen som på stedet, ” sa doktor Mortimer. “ Et blikk på vår venn viser oss kelternes runde hode med den begeistring og evne til hengivenhet som er eiendommelig for dem. Stakkels sir Charles hadde et hode av en meget sjelden type, halvt gælisk, halvt irsk. Men De var meget ung da De sist så Baskerville herregård, ikke sant ? ”
"It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head was of a very rare type, half Gaelic, half Ivernian in its characteristics. But you were very young when you last saw Baskerville Hall, were you not?"
"I was a boy in my 'teens at the time of my father's death, and had never seen the Hall, for he lived in a little cottage on the South Coast. Thence I went straight to a friend in America. I tell you it is all as new to me as it is to Dr. Watson, and I'm as keen as possible to see the moor."
"Are you? Then your wish is easily granted, for there is your first sight of the moor," said Dr. Mortimer, pointing out of the carriage window.
Over grønne enger og en skogs lave bølgelinje hevet seg i det fjerne et grått, dystert høydedrag med en eiendommelig tagget topp. Det fortonet seg ubestemt og tåket i det fjerne, som et fantastisk landskap i en drøm. Sir Henry satt lenge og betraktet det. I ansiktet kunne jeg lese hvilket sterkt inntrykk det gjorde på ham, dette første synet av det merkelige stedet hvor hans slekt hadde hersket så lenge og etterlatt seg så dype spor. Som han satt der i sin sommerdrakt og med sin amerikanske uttale i det ene hjørnet av en prosaiske jernbanekupé, følte jeg ved synet av dette alvorlige og uttryksfulle ansikt mere enn noensinne hvilken ekte ætling han var av en lang rekke stolte, fremragende menn med edelt blod. Disse tykke øyenbryn, disse følsomme nesebor og disse store, nøttebrune øyne vitnet om stolthet, fasthet og kraft. Ventet det oss en vanskelig og skjebnesvanger oppgave var han i alle fall en kamerat for hvem man kunne våge noe. Man kunne alltid være sikker på at han kjekt ville dele faren.
Over the green squares of the fields and the low curve of a wood there rose in the distance a gray, melancholy hill, with a strange jagged summit, dim and vague in the distance, like some fantastic landscape in a dream. Baskerville sat for a long time, his eyes fixed upon it, and I read upon his eager face how much it meant to him, this first sight of that strange spot where the men of his blood had held sway so long and left their mark so deep. There he sat, with his tweed suit and his American accent, in the corner of a prosaic railway-carriage, and yet as I looked at his dark and expressive face I felt more than ever how true a descendant he was of that long line of high-blooded, fiery, and masterful men. There were pride, valour, and strength in his thick brows, his sensitive nostrils, and his large hazel eyes. If on that forbidding moor a difficult and dangerous quest should lie before us, this was at least a comrade for whom one might venture to take a risk with the certainty that he would bravely share it.
Toget stanset foran en liten stasjon, og vi steg alle ut. Utenfor stasjonen på den annen siden av gjerdet stod en liten vogn med et par små hester og ventet på oss. Vår ankomst var åpenbart en stor begivenhet, for stasjonsmesteren og banebetjentene omringet oss øyeblikkelig for å ta vår bagasje. Det var en vakker, fredelig, liten landsstasjon, men jeg ble overrasket da jeg fikk se to militært antrukne menn i mørke uniformer ved utgangen; de stod og støttet seg på sine geværer og mønstret oss skarpt da vi passerte. Kusken, en liten, lavvokst kar med et hårdt, kantet ansikt, hilste på sir Henry, og noen minutter etter kjørte vi raskt nedad den brede, støvgrå veien. På begge sidene bredte seg enger med saftig gress, og gamle gavlhus dukket frem mellom det tette løvet; men bak de fredelige, sollyse markene tegnet moens lange, dystre bølgelinje seg mørkt mot himmelen, i bakgrunnen avbrutt av taggete, illevarslende høydedrag.
The train pulled up at a small wayside station and we all descended. Outside, beyond the low, white fence, a wagonette with a pair of cobs was waiting. Our coming was evidently a great event, for station-master and porters clustered round us to carry out our luggage. It was a sweet, simple country spot, but I was surprised to observe that by the gate there stood two soldierly men in dark uniforms, who leaned upon their short rifles and glanced keenly at us as we passed. The coachman, a hard-faced, gnarled little fellow, saluted Sir Henry Baskerville, and in a few minutes we were flying swiftly down the broad, white road. Rolling pasture lands curved upward on either side of us, and old gabled houses peeped out from amid the thick green foliage, but behind the peaceful and sunlit country-side there rose ever, dark against the evening sky, the long, gloomy curve of the moor, broken by the jagged and sinister hills.
Vognen svingte inn på en sidevei, og vi fortsatte videre opp gjennom dype hullveier hvor århundreders ferdsel hadde etterlatt sine spor, med høye skråninger på begge sider, bevokst med fuktig mose og store, rustfarvede bregner. Bronsefarvede og flekkete busker og kratt skinte i strålene av den nedgående sol. Det gikk stadig oppover. Vi passerte over en støyende elv på en smal steinbro, den fosset og skummet mellom grå kampestener og slynget seg nedover en dal som var tett bevokst med eldgamle eik- og furutrær. For hver sving av veien ga sir Henry høylydt uttrykk for sin beundring, og kom med spørsmål i det uendelige. Alt forekom ham skjønt, men for meg var det som det lå noe dystert over hele landskapet, hvor høsten allerede hadde satt så triste merker. Gult løv dekket allerede markene og dalte ned over våre hoder fra trekronene over oss. Lyden av vognhjulene døde hen mens vi kjørte gjennom dynger av råtnende blader. Det forekom meg som naturen bød Baskervillernes gjenkomne arving en trist velkomsthilsen.
The wagonette swung round into a side road, and we curved upward through deep lanes worn by centuries of wheels, high banks on either side, heavy with dripping moss and fleshy hart's-tongue ferns. Bronzing bracken and mottled bramble gleamed in the light of the sinking sun. Still steadily rising, we passed over a narrow granite bridge, and skirted a noisy stream which gushed swiftly down, foaming and roaring amid the gray boulders. Both road and stream wound up through a valley dense with scrub oak and fir. At every turn Baskerville gave an exclamation of delight, looking eagerly about him and asking countless questions. To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the country-side, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles.
"Halloa!" cried Dr. Mortimer, "what is this?"
A steep curve of heath-clad land, an outlying spur of the moor, lay in front of us. On the summit, hard and clear like an equestrian statue upon its pedestal, was a mounted soldier, dark and stern, his rifle poised ready over his forearm. He was watching the road along which we travelled.
"What is this, Perkins?" asked Dr. Mortimer.
Vår kusk snudde seg helt om
Our driver half turned in his seat.
"There's a convict escaped from Princetown, sir. He's been out three days now, and the warders watch every road and every station, but they've had no sight of him yet. The farmers about here don't like it, sir, and that's a fact."
"Well, I understand that they get five pounds if they can give information."
"Yes, sir, but the chance of five pounds is but a poor thing compared to the chance of having your throat cut. You see, it isn't like any ordinary convict. This is a man that would stick at nothing."
“ Hvem er det ? ”
"Who is he, then?"
“Selden, morderen fra Notting Hill.”
"It is Selden, the Notting Hill murderer."
Jeg husket godt saken, for det var en som Holmes hadde vært meget interessert i på grunn av den enestående villheten og den grenseløse brutaliteten som alle morderens forbrytelser var utført med. Han ble dømt til døden, men straffen ble omgjort til livsvarig fengsel, for han hadde opptrådt med en så redselsfull villskap at det måtte oppstå tvil om hans tilregnelighet. Vognen var nettopp kommet opp på toppen av en bakke. Foran oss lå den vide moen med sine krattbevokste fjellknatter og høydedrag. En kald vind, som fikk oss til å gyse, blåste ned fra den. Et eller andet sted der ute på denne øde sletten lå han vel og lurte som et vilt dyr, denne skrekkelige mannen, fylt av innett nag mot samfunnet som hadde utstøtt ham. Alene tanken på dette var nok til å fullgjøre den uhyggelige fornemmelsen som den golde vidden, den kalde vinden og den tunge himmelen uvilkårlig fremkalte.
I remembered the case well, for it was one in which Holmes had taken an interest on account of the peculiar ferocity of the crime and the wanton brutality which had marked all the actions of the assassin. The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct. Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors. A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering. Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out. It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky. Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him.
Selv sir Henry ble sittende taus og trakk frakken tettere om seg. Vi hadde nå det fruktbare land bak og nedenfor oss. Vi satt og nøt det praktfulle skuet, mens den synkende sol bredte sitt gyldenskjær over de oppløyede røde jordene og de tette tregruppene. Veien foran oss førte gjennom svære skråninger med eple- og oliventrær og kjempemessige rullestener innimellom. Fra tid til annen passerte vi et hus med steinmur omkring, men ingen slyngplanter formildet det hårde ytre. Plutselig så vi ned i en grytelignende fordypning, full av forkrøplete eik- og furutrær, vridd og krummet av årrekkers rasende stormer. Over tretoppene raget to høye, smale tårn opp. Kusken pekte med svøpen.
We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us. We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands. The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders. Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline. Suddenly we looked down into a cup-like depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm. Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees. The driver pointed with his whip.
“ Baskerville herregård, ” sa han.
"Baskerville Hall," said he.
Dets herre hadde reist seg opp og stirret med rødmende kinn og strålende øyne. Noen minutter etter var vi fremme ved porten; dens dører med de fantastiske ornamenter var av smijern, og på hver side stod en veirbitt, moseflekket portstolpe, prydet med Baskervillernes villsvinhode. Portnerboligen var nå en ruin av sort granitt med nakent bindingsverk. Men like i mot den kunne sees en ny, ennå bare halvferdig bygning, førstegrøden av sir Charles ' sydafrikanske gull.
Its master had risen and was staring with flushed cheeks and shining eyes. A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold.
Gjennom porten kom vi inn på den brede veien som førte opp til hovedbygningen. Vognhjulene gled atter over nedfallent løv, og de gamle trekronene dannet en mørk buehvelving over våre hoder. Der gikk en gysning gjennom sir Henry da han så oppover den lange, mørke veien; hovedbygningen lyste spøkelsesaktig i den andre enden.
Through the gateway we passed into the avenue, where the wheels were again hushed amid the leaves, and the old trees shot their branches in a sombre tunnel over our heads. Baskerville shuddered as he looked up the long, dark drive to where the house glimmered like a ghost at the farther end.
"Was it here?" he asked in a low voice.
“ Nei, barlindalléen er på den andre siden. ”
"No, no, the Yew Alley is on the other side."
Den unge arving så seg omkring med et uttrykk av uhygge.
The young heir glanced round with a gloomy face.
“ Ikke noe under at min onkel måtte ha en følelse av at noe ubehagelig lurte på ham på et slikt sted som dette. Det kan jo skremme hvem som helst. Jeg vil få innlagt elektrisk lys her innen seks måneder. Når vi får et tusen Swan- og Edisonlamper her like foran hovedinngangen, skal De ikke kjenne stedet igjen. ”
"It's no wonder my uncle felt as if trouble were coming on him in such a place as this," said he. "It's enough to scare any man. I'll have a row of electric lamps up here inside of six months, and you won't know it again, with a thousand candle-power Swan and Edison right here in front of the hall door."
Veien endte i en stor, gressbevokst plass hvor vi hadde hovedbygningen rett foran oss. I det svinnende lyset kunne jeg se at midtpartiet bestod av en svær bygningsmasse med en fremstående portal. Fasaden var helt dekket av eføy, med en bar åpning her og der hvor et vindu eller et våpenskjold brøt den mørke flaten. Fra dette midtpartiet hevet seg to gamle, krenellerte tvillingtårn med mange skyteskår. Til høyre og til venstre for tårnene var oppført mer moderne fløyer i sort granitt. Et dempet lysskjær falt ut fra vinduene med de svære karmene, og fra de høye skorstenene, som hevet seg fra det steile taket, steg en enkelt, sort røksøyle.
The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat-of-arms broke through the dark veil. >From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenelated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke.
“ Velkommen, sir Henry ! Velkommen til Baskerville herregård ! ”
"Welcome, Sir Henry! Welcome to Baskerville Hall!"
A tall man had stepped from the shadow of the porch to open the door of the wagonette. The figure of a woman was silhouetted against the yellow light of the hall. She came out and helped the man to hand down our bags.
“ De unnskylder at jeg tar rett hjem, sir Henry, ” sa doktor Mortimer. “ Min hustru venter meg. ”
"You don't mind my driving straight home, Sir Henry?" said Dr. Mortimer. "My wife is expecting me."
"Surely you will stay and have some dinner?"
"No, I must go. I shall probably find some work awaiting me. I would stay to show you over the house, but Barrymore will be a better guide than I. Good-bye, and never hesitate night or day to send for me if I can be of service."
Vognen forsvant nedover veien, mens sir Henry og jeg gikk inn. Døren falt tungt i etter oss. Det var et meget vakkert værelse vi kom inn i, stort og høyt med tunge paneler av svære eikebjelker, sorte av elde. På det store, gammeldagse ildstedet bak det høye jerngitteret knitret og spraket en kubbeild. Sir Henry og jeg varmet hendene over den, for vi var temmelig frosne etter den lange kjøreturen, og betraktet det høye tynne vindu med gammelt, farvet glass, eikepanelet, de utskårne hodene og våpenskjoldene på veggene; alt fortonet seg tåket og ubestemt i det dempede lyset fra midtlampen.
The wheels died away down the drive while Sir Henry and I turned into the hall, and the door clanged heavily behind us. It was a fine apartment in which we found ourselves, large, lofty, and heavily raftered with huge balks of age-blackened oak. In the great old-fashioned fireplace behind the high iron dogs a log-fire crackled and snapped. Sir Henry and I held out our hands to it, for we were numb from our long drive. Then we gazed round us at the high, thin window of old stained glass, the oak panelling, the stags' heads, the coats-of-arms upon the walls, all dim and sombre in the subdued light of the central lamp.
"It's just as I imagined it," said Sir Henry. "Is it not the very picture of an old family home? To think that this should be the same hall in which for five hundred years my people have lived. It strikes me solemn to think of it."
Jeg så hans mørke ansikt lyse opp med barnlig begeistring mens han satt og så seg rundt. Lyset falt like på ham, mens de lange skyggene trakk seg nedover veggene fra taket og dannet som en sort tronhimmel over ham. Hushovmesteren Barrymore hadde sørget for at reisetøyet ble brakt opp på våre værelser, og kom nå tilbake. Han stilte seg foran oss med en velopdragen tjeners ærbødige holdning. Det var en mann med et utseende som måtte tiltrekke seg oppmerksomhet, høy av vekst, med sort skjegg og bleke, fine trekk.
I saw his dark face lit up with a boyish enthusiasm as he gazed about him. The light beat upon him where he stood, but long shadows trailed down the walls and hung like a black canopy above him. Barrymore had returned from taking our luggage to our rooms. He stood in front of us now with the subdued manner of a well-trained servant. He was a remarkable-looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard and pale, distinguished features.
"Would you wish dinner to be served at once, sir?"
“ Er den ferdig ? ”
"Is it ready?"
"In a very few minutes, sir. You will find hot water in your rooms. My wife and I will be happy, Sir Henry, to stay with you until you have made your fresh arrangements, but you will understand that under the new conditions this house will require a considerable staff."
“Hvilke nye vilkår?”
"What new conditions?"
"I only meant, sir, that Sir Charles led a very retired life, and we were able to look after his wants. You would, naturally, wish to have more company, and so you will need changes in your household."
"Do you mean that your wife and you wish to leave?"
"Only when it is quite convenient to you, sir."
"But your family have been with us for several generations, have they not? I should be sorry to begin my life here by breaking an old family connection."
I seemed to discern some signs of emotion upon the butler's white face.
"I feel that also, sir, and so does my wife. But to tell the truth, sir, we were both very much attached to Sir Charles, and his death gave us a shock and made these surroundings very painful to us. I fear that we shall never again be easy in our minds at Baskerville Hall."
"But what do you intend to do?"
"I have no doubt, sir, that we shall succeed in establishing ourselves in some business. Sir Charles's generosity has given us the means to do so. And now, sir, perhaps I had best show you to your rooms."
Et galleri gikk rundt omkring den gamle forhallen. En dobbelttrapp førte opp dit. Fra dette midtpunktet gikk to lange korridorer gjennom hele bygningen, og fra disse kom man til soveværelsene. Mitt eget lå i samme fløyen som sir Henrys og nesten dør i dør med det. Disse værelsene så ut til å være meget mere moderne enn midtbygningens, og de lyse tapetene og tallrike lys bidro adskillig til å fjerne det triste inntrykket som vi hadde fått ved ankomsten.
A square balustraded gallery ran round the top of the old hall, approached by a double stair. From this central point two long corridors extended the whole length of the building, from which all the bedrooms opened. My own was in the same wing as Baskerville's and almost next door to it. These rooms appeared to be much more modern than the central part of the house, and the bright paper and numerous candles did something to remove the sombre impression which our arrival had left upon my mind.
Men spisesalen, som man kom inn i fra forhallen, var mørk og uhyggelig. Det var en lang sal med en litt høyere del hvor familien satt, skilt fra den lavere del, som var bestemt for de undergivne. I den ene enden fantes et lite galleri, hvor skalder og sangere før i tiden hadde hatt sin plass. Sorte bjelker strakte seg over oss med det tilrøkede taket. Opplyst av skinnet fra blafrende fakler og utstyrt med eldre tiders festlige og brogede prakt kunne den muligens gjøre et lysere inntrykk enn nå, da to sortkledte herrer satt innenfor den lille lysvinkelen fra skjermlampen. Uvilkårlig innfant en stille, trykket stemning innfant seg. En lang rekke av forfedre i de forskjelligste drakter fra Elisabeths tid til regenttidens stirret ned på oss og skremte oss ved sitt tause selskap. Vi snakket lite, og jeg var i alle fall glad da måltidet var over, og vi kunne trekke oss tilbake til det moderne billiardværelset og røke en sigarett.
But the dining-room which opened out of the hall was a place of shadow and gloom. It was a long chamber with a step separating the dais where the family sat from the lower portion reserved for their dependents. At one end a minstrel's gallery overlooked it. Black beams shot across above our heads, with a smoke-darkened ceiling beyond them. With rows of flaring torches to light it up, and the colour and rude hilarity of an old-time banquet, it might have softened; but now, when two black-clothed gentlemen sat in the little circle of light thrown by a shaded lamp, one's voice became hushed and one's spirit subdued. A dim line of ancestors, in every variety of dress, from the Elizabethan knight to the buck of the Regency, stared down upon us and daunted us by their silent company. We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette.
“ Det er virkelig ikke noe særlig koselig sted, ” sa sir Henry. “ Man kan vel venne seg til det, men jeg kan ikke si jeg ennå føler meg helt hjemme her. Det forundrer meg ikke at min onkel ble litt egen når han levde helt alene på et sted som dette. Hvis De ikke har noe i mot det, går vi til køys tidlig iaften. Kanskje vil vi kunne se saken i et behageligere lys i morgen. ”
"My word, it isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I suppose one can tone down to it, but I feel a bit out of the picture at present. I don't wonder that my uncle got a little jumpy if he lived all alone in such a house as this. However, if it suits you, we will retire early to-night, and perhaps things may seem more cheerful in the morning."
Jeg trakk gardinene til side før jeg gikk til sengs, og så ut gjennom vinduet. Det vendte ut mot den grønne gressplenen foran huset. På den andre siden var to tregrupper, og man kunne høre hvordan vinden rusket og slett i kronene. Halvmånen viste seg i samme øyeblikket i en revne i de drivende skyene. I det kalde lyset så jeg bak trærne en brutt krans av steinknauser, og den tungsindige moens lange, lave bølgelinje. Jeg trakk gardinene for med en følelse av at mitt siste inntrykk svarte til de foregående.
I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest.
Men det var ennå ikke det siste. Jeg var trett, men kunne ikke sove og lå og kastet meg urolig fra den ene siden til den andre. I det fjerne hørtes en klokke slå for hvert kvarter, men forøvrig hvilte hele huset i en dødlignende stillhet. Plutselig, midt på natten, hørte jeg en klar, tydelig lyd, som ikke kunne tas feil av. Det var en kvinnes gråt, en undertrykt, kvalt hulking av et menneske som pines av en sorg som det ikke lenger er herre over. Jeg satte meg opp i sengen og lyttet spent. Lyden kunne ikke komme langt borte fra. Vedkommende måtte sikkert være i huset. I en halv time ble jeg sittende og lytte med alle nerver spent, men det hørtes ikke noen annen lyd enn klokkens klemting og eføyens rasling utenfor. * * *
And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one who is torn by an uncontrollable sorrow. I sat up in bed and listened intently. The noise could not have been far away and was certainly in the house. For half an hour I waited with every nerve on the alert, but there came no other sound save the chiming clock and the rustle of the ivy on the wall.
Syvende kapitel. Familien på Merripit-gården.
Chapter 7 The Stapletons of Merripit House
DEN følgende morgens friske skjønnhet bidro noe til å utviske det kalde og uhyggelige inntrykket som det første møtet med Baskerville herregård hadde etterlatt hos oss begge. Da sir Henry og jeg tok plass ved frokostbordet, strømmet sollyset inn gjennom vinduet. Det mørke veggpanelet glødet som bronse i de gyldne strålene, og det var ikke lett å gjøre seg fortrolig med at det var det samme værelset som hadde fylt oss med så sterk uhygge aftenen før.
The fresh beauty of the following morning did something to efface from our minds the grim and gray impression which had been left upon both of us by our first experience of Baskerville Hall. As Sir Henry and I sat at breakfast the sunlight flooded in through the high mullioned windows, throwing watery patches of colour from the coats of arms which covered them. The dark panelling glowed like bronze in the golden rays, and it was hard to realize that this was indeed the chamber which had struck such a gloom into our souls upon the evening before.
"I guess it is ourselves and not the house that we have to blame!" said the baronet. "We were tired with our journey and chilled by our drive, so we took a gray view of the place. Now we are fresh and well, so it is all cheerful once more."
"And yet it was not entirely a question of imagination," I answered. "Did you, for example, happen to hear someone, a woman I think, sobbing in the night?"
"That is curious, for I did when I was half asleep fancy that I heard something of the sort. I waited quite a time, but there was no more of it, so I concluded that it was all a dream."
"I heard it distinctly, and I am sure that it was really the sob of a woman."
"We must ask about this right away." He rang the bell and asked Barrymore whether he could account for our experience. It seemed to me that the pallid features of the butler turned a shade paler still as he listened to his master's question.
"There are only two women in the house, Sir Henry," he answered. "One is the scullery-maid, who sleeps in the other wing. The other is my wife, and I can answer for it that the sound could not have come from her."
Men der snakket han usant, for jeg møtte etter frokosten tilfeldigvis fru Barrymore i den lange gangen. Solen falt rett på hennes ansikt. Det var en tykkfallen kvinne, tung og treg i bevegelsene og med et hårdt, strengt uttrykk om munnen. Men hennes øyne røpet henne. De var røde og stirret på meg bak oppsvulmede øyenlokk. Det var altså henne som hadde grått om natten, og når hun hadde gjort det, måtte mannen vite det. Men nå hadde han jo likefrem utsatt seg for å bli avslørt ved å erklære at det ikke var slik. Hvorfor hadde han gjort det ? Og hvorfor hadde hun grått så sårt ? Der begynte allerede å samle seg en atmosfære av hemmelighetsfullhet og uhygge om denne vakre mannen med det bleke ansiktet og det sorte skjegget. Det var ham som først hadde oppdaget sir Charles ' døde legeme, og man hadde kun hans ord for alle omstendighetene som førte til den gamle mannens død. Var det mulig at det tross alt var Barrymore, vi hadde sett i vognen i Regent Street ? Skjegget kunne visst nok ha vært det samme. Vognmannens beskrivelse tydet på en lavere mann, men slikt kan man jo meget lett ta feil av. Hvordan skulle jeg en gang for alle få brakt dette på det rene ? Det første jeg hadde å gjøre måtte åpenbart være å søke poståpneren i Grimpen og få vite om telegrammet virkelig var overlevert Barrymore personlig. Hvordan svaret enn ble, ville jeg i alle fall ha noe å melde Sherlock Holmes.
And yet he lied as he said it, for it chanced that after breakfast I met Mrs. Barrymore in the long corridor with the sun full upon her face. She was a large, impassive, heavy-featured woman with a stern set expression of mouth. But her tell-tale eyes were red and glanced at me from between swollen lids. It was she, then, who wept in the night, and if she did so her husband must know it. Yet he had taken the obvious risk of discovery in declaring that it was not so. Why had he done this? And why did she weep so bitterly? Already round this pale-faced, handsome, black-bearded man there was gathering an atmosphere of mystery and of gloom. It was he who had been the first to discover the body of Sir Charles, and we had only his word for all the circumstances which led up to the old man's death. Was it possible that it was Barrymore after all whom we had seen in the cab in Regent Street? The beard might well have been the same. The cabman had described a somewhat shorter man, but such an impression might easily have been erroneous. How could I settle the point forever? Obviously the first thing to do was to see the Grimpen postmaster, and find whether the test telegram had really been placed in Barrymore's own hands. Be the answer what it might, I should at least have something to report to Sherlock Holmes.
Sir Henry hadde en hel del dokumenter han skulle undersøke etter frokosten. Det passet derfor utmerket for meg å ta en tur imens. Det ble en vakker spasertur på en fem kilometer langs moen, og jeg kom til slutt frem til en liten landsby, hvor det var to bygninger større enn de andre. Det viste seg å være vertshuset og doktor Mortimers hus. Poståpneren, som også var landsbyens kjøpmann, husket utmerket godt telegrammet.
Sir Henry had numerous papers to examine after breakfast, so that the time was propitious for my excursion. It was a pleasant walk of four miles along the edge of the moor, leading me at last to a small gray hamlet, in which two larger buildings, which proved to be the inn and the house of Dr. Mortimer, stood high above the rest. The postmaster, who was also the village grocer, had a clear recollection of the telegram.
“ Naturligvis ble telegrammet overlevert hr. Barrymore aldeles som instruert. ”
"Certainly, sir," said he, "I had the telegram delivered to Mr. Barrymore exactly as directed."
“ Hvem overleverte det ? ”
"Who delivered it?"
“ Min sønn der. James, du leverte jo telegrammet til hr. Barrymore på Baskerville herregård i forrige uke ? ”
"My boy here. James, you delivered that telegram to Mr. Barrymore at the Hall last week, did you not?"
“ Ja, far, jeg leverte det. ”
"Yes, father, I delivered it."
“ I hans egne hender ? ” spurte jeg.
"Into his own hands?" I asked.
"Well, he was up in the loft at the time, so that I could not put it into his own hands, but I gave it into Mrs. Barrymore's hands, and she promised to deliver it at once."
“Så De hr. Barrymore?”
"Did you see Mr. Barrymore?"
“ Nei, han var jo oppe på loftet. ”
"No, sir; I tell you he was in the loft."
"If you didn't see him, how do you know he was in the loft?"
"Well, surely his own wife ought to know where he is," said the postmaster testily. "Didn't he get the telegram? If there is any mistake it is for Mr. Barrymore himself to complain."
Det syntes håpløst å fortsette undersøkelsen videre, men det var klart, at tross Holmes ' list hadde vi ennå ikke noe sikkert bevis for at Barrymore ikke hadde vært i London hele tiden. Sett at det var slik, sett at den samme mannen hadde vært den siste som hadde sett sir Charles i live, og den første som hadde overvåket den nye arvingen da han kom tilbake til England. Hva så ? Var han et redskap for andre, eller hadde han selv noen ond hensikt ? Hvilken interesse kunne han ha i å forfølge Baskerville-slekten ? Med ett kom jeg til å tenke på den strenge advarselen som var klippet ut av lederen i Times. Var det hans verk, eller var det muligens gjort av noen som ville motarbeide hans planer ? Den eneste tenkelige beveggrunn var den som sir Henry selv hadde nevnt, at hvis slekten kunne skremmes bort, ville Barrymore være sikret et koselig og stadig hjem. Men en slik formodning ville sikkert ikke strekke til for å forklare det innviklede og fintspundne nett av renker som ble vevet om den unge mannen. Holmes hadde selv sagt at blant alle de merkelige saker han hadde hatt til undersøkelse, hadde ennå ingen vært så vanskelig som denne. Da jeg gikk den ensomme grå veien tilbake, håpet jeg inderlig at min venn snart måtte bli ferdig med det som opptok ham i byen, så han selv kunne komme hit og ta denne tunge byrden av ansvar fra mine skuldre.
It seemed hopeless to pursue the inquiry any farther, but it was clear that in spite of Holmes's ruse we had no proof that Barrymore had not been in London all the time. Suppose that it were so--suppose that the same man had been the last who had seen Sir Charles alive, and the first to dog the new heir when he returned to England. What then? Was he the agent of others or had he some sinister design of his own? What interest could he have in persecuting the Baskerville family? I thought of the strange warning clipped out of the leading article of the Times. Was that his work or was it possibly the doing of someone who was bent upon counteracting his schemes? The only conceivable motive was that which had been suggested by Sir Henry, that if the family could be scared away a comfortable and permanent home would be secured for the Barrymores. But surely such an explanation as that would be quite inadequate to account for the deep and subtle scheming which seemed to be weaving an invisible net round the young baronet. Holmes himself had said that no more complex case had come to him in all the long series of his sensational investigations. I prayed, as I walked back along the gray, lonely road, that my friend might soon be freed from his preoccupations and able to come down to take this heavy burden of responsibility from my shoulders.
Plutselig ble disse tankene avbrutt av en lyd som om noen sprang etter meg; en stemme ropte deretter mitt navn. Jeg snudde meg om og ventet å se doktor Mortimer, men til min overraskelse var det en fremmed som kom etter meg. Det var en liten, tynn mann med et stramt, glattraket ansikt, blondt hår og magre kinn, mellom tredve og førti år, kledd i en grå drakt og med stråhatt. En tynn botaniserkasse hang over den ene skulderen, og i den ene hånden holdt han et grønt sommerfuglnett.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feet behind me and by a voice which called me by name. I turned, expecting to see Dr. Mortimer, but to my surprise it was a stranger who was pursuing me. He was a small, slim, clean-shaven, prim-faced man, flaxen-haired and lean-jawed, between thirty and forty years of age, dressed in a gray suit and wearing a straw hat. A tin box for botanical specimens hung over his shoulder and he carried a green butterfly-net in one of his hands.
"You will, I am sure, excuse my presumption, Dr. Watson," said he, as he came panting up to where I stood. "Here on the moor we are homely folk and do not wait for formal introductions. You may possibly have heard my name from our mutual friend, Mortimer. I am Stapleton, of Merripit House."
"Your net and box would have told me as much," said I, "for I knew that Mr. Stapleton was a naturalist. But how did you know me?"
"I have been calling on Mortimer, and he pointed you out to me from the window of his surgery as you passed. As our road lay the same way I thought that I would overtake you and introduce myself. I trust that Sir Henry is none the worse for his journey?"
“ Takk, han befinner seg meget vel. ”
"He is very well, thank you."
“ Vi var alle redd for at etter sir Charles ' uhyggelige død ville han ikke bo her. Det er for meget forlangt av en formuende mann at han skal komme hit og begrave seg i en avkrok som dette stedet, men jeg behøver ikke å fortelle Dem at det har meget stor betydning for egnen. Sir Henry nærer ingen overtroisk frykt, antar jeg ? ”
"We were all rather afraid that after the sad death of Sir Charles the new baronet might refuse to live here. It is asking much of a wealthy man to come down and bury himself in a place of this kind, but I need not tell you that it means a very great deal to the country-side. Sir Henry has, I suppose, no superstitious fears in the matter?"
“ Nei, jeg tror ikke det. ”
"I do not think that it is likely."
"Of course you know the legend of the fiend dog which haunts the family?"
"I have heard it."
“ Det er merkelig hvor lettroende bøndene her er ! Alle er når som helst parate til å sverge på at de har sett et slikt vesen på moen. ” Der lå et smil om munnen, men i øynene syntes jeg å lese at han tok det alvorlig. “ Fortellingen om den gjorde et sterkt inntrykk på sir Charles, og jeg har ingen tvil om at den førte til hans sørgelige død. ”
"It is extraordinary how credulous the peasants are about here! Any number of them are ready to swear that they have seen such a creature upon the moor." He spoke with a smile, but I seemed to read in his eyes that he took the matter more seriously. "The story took a great hold upon the imagination of Sir Charles, and I have no doubt that it led to his tragic end."
“Men hvordan?”
"But how?"
“ Hans nerver var så opphissede at synet av hvilken som helst hund kunne få en skjebnesvanger virkning på hans hjertesykdom. Jeg tror at han virkelig har sett noe slikt den siste aftenen i alléen. Jeg fryktet at det skulle tilstøte ham en ulykke, for jeg holdt meget av sir Charles, og jeg visste at hans hjerte ikke var sterkt. ”
"His nerves were so worked up that the appearance of any dog might have had a fatal effect upon his diseased heart. I fancy that he really did see something of the kind upon that last night in the Yew Alley. I feared that some disaster might occur, for I was very fond of the old man, and I knew that his heart was weak."
“ Hvorfra visste De det ? ”
"How did you know that?"
"My friend Mortimer told me."
"You think, then, that some dog pursued Sir Charles, and that he died of fright in consequence?"
"Have you any better explanation?"
"I have not come to any conclusion."
“ Har Sherlock Holmes ? ”
"Has Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
The words took away my breath for an instant, but a glance at the placid face and steadfast eyes of my companion showed that no surprise was intended.
“ Det vil ikke nytte noe for oss å late som om vi ikke kjenner Dem, doktor Watson, ” sa han. “ Beretningene om Deres berømte detektiv har også nådd hit til oss, og De kunne ikke gjøre ham berømt uten å bli kjent selv. Da Mortimer fortalte meg hva De het, kunne han ikke nekte hvem De var. Når De er kommet hit, må Sherlock Holmes selvfølgelig også være interessert i saken, og jeg er naturligvis nysgjerrig etter å høre hvilket syn han har på den. ”
"It is useless for us to pretend that we do not know you, Dr. Watson," said he. "The records of your detective have reached us here, and you could not celebrate him without being known yourself. When Mortimer told me your name he could not deny your identity. If you are here, then it follows that Mr. Sherlock Holmes is interesting himself in the matter, and I am naturally curious to know what view he may take."
"I am afraid that I cannot answer that question."
"May I ask if he is going to honour us with a visit himself?"
"He cannot leave town at present. He has other cases which engage his attention."
“ Hvor kjedelig ! Han måtte kunne skaffe litt lys i alt dette, som for oss er lutter mørke. Men kan jeg på noen som helst måte være Dem til hjelp ved Deres undersøkelse, står jeg til Deres tjeneste. Hvis jeg hadde noen som helst formodning om arten av Deres mistanke, eller hvordan De akter å gripe undersøkelsen an, kunne jeg kanskje allerede nå gi Dem råd eller hjelp. ”
"What a pity! He might throw some light on that which is so dark to us. But as to your own researches, if there is any possible way in which I can be of service to you I trust that you will command me. If I had any indication of the nature of your suspicions or how you propose to investigate the case, I might perhaps even now give you some aid or advice."
"I assure you that I am simply here upon a visit to my friend, Sir Henry, and that I need no help of any kind."
"Excellent!" said Stapleton. "You are perfectly right to be wary and discreet. I am justly reproved for what I feel was an unjustifiable intrusion, and I promise you that I will not mention the matter again."
Vi var kommet til et sted hvor en smal gressbevokst sti tok av fra veien og snodde seg i svinger bortover moen. En bratt, steinet høy lå på høyre side; i tidligere dager hadde det vært et granittbrudd. Delen som vendte mot oss dannet en mørk fjellskrent, med bregner og bringebær voksende i kløftene. I det fjerne steg en grålig røksøyle opp mot himmelen.
We had come to a point where a narrow grassy path struck off from the road and wound away across the moor. A steep, boulder-sprinkled hill lay upon the right which had in bygone days been cut into a granite quarry. The face which was turned towards us formed a dark cliff, with ferns and brambles growing in its niches. From over a distant rise there floated a gray plume of smoke.
"A moderate walk along this moor-path brings us to Merripit House," said he. "Perhaps you will spare an hour that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister."
Min første tanke var at jeg ikke måtte vike fra sir Henry. Men så husket jeg på bunken dokumenter som hans bord var fylt av. Jeg visste at jeg ikke kunne hjelpe ham med den. Og Holmes hadde jo uttrykkelig pålagt meg å studere naboene på moen. Jeg tok derfor i mot Stapletons innbydelse, og vi drev sammen innover moen.
My first thought was that I should be by Sir Henry's side. But then I remembered the pile of papers and bills with which his study table was littered. It was certain that I could not help with those. And Holmes had expressly said that I should study the neighbours upon the moor. I accepted Stapleton's invitation, and we turned together down the path.
“ Denne moen er et vidunderlig sted, ” sa han og så utover det bølgende landskapet og de lange grønne forhøyningene med de takkete granittkammene, som reiste seg som fantastiske, skummende sjøer. “ De vil aldri bli trett av moen. De kan ikke forestille Dem hvilke selsomme hemmeligheter den rommer. Den er så veldig og så gold og så hemmelighetsfull. ”
"It is a wonderful place, the moor," said he, looking round over the undulating downs, long green rollers, with crests of jagged granite foaming up into fantastic surges. "You never tire of the moor. You cannot think the wonderful secrets which it contains. It is so vast, and so barren, and so mysterious."
“ De kjenner den altså meget godt ? ”
"You know it well, then?"
“ Jeg har bare vært her to år. De andre her betrakter meg som en nykomling. Vi kom kort tid etter at sir Charles Baskerville hadde slått seg ned her. Men mine interesser brakte meg til å undersøke alle deler av landet rundt omkring her, og nå tenker jeg det er få menn som kjenner det bedre enn jeg gjør. ”
"I have only been here two years. The residents would call me a newcomer. We came shortly after Sir Charles settled. But my tastes led me to explore every part of the country round, and I should think that there are few men who know it better than I do."
"Is it hard to know?"
"Very hard. You see, for example, this great plain to the north here with the queer hills breaking out of it. Do you observe anything remarkable about that?"
"It would be a rare place for a gallop."
"You would naturally think so and the thought has cost several their lives before now. You notice those bright green spots scattered thickly over it?"
"Yes, they seem more fertile than the rest."
Stapleton lo.
Stapleton laughed.
“ Det er den store Grimpenmyren, ” sa han. “ Et feiltrinn der er døden for mennesker og dyr. Det er ikke mer enn to dager siden jeg så en hest gå rett ut i den. Den kom aldri opp igjen. Jeg så hodet en lang stund stikke opp av sumpen, men til slutt forsvant den i dypet. Selv i tørketiden er det farlig å sette over denne strekningen; men etter høstregnet, som nå, er den bent frem skrekkelig. Men jeg kan nå finne frem selv midt inne i den farligste delen, og komme tilbake. — Men der har vi sannelig nok en slik ulykkelig hest ! ”
"That is the great Grimpen Mire," said he. "A false step yonder means death to man or beast. Only yesterday I saw one of the moor ponies wander into it. He never came out. I saw his head for quite a long time craning out of the bog-hole, but it sucked him down at last. Even in dry seasons it is a danger to cross it, but after these autumn rains it is an awful place. And yet I can find my way to the very heart of it and return alive. By George, there is another of those miserable ponies!"
Something brown was rolling and tossing among the green sedges. Then a long, agonized, writhing neck shot upward and a dreadful cry echoed over the moor. It turned me cold with horror, but my companion's nerves seemed to be stronger than mine.
"It's gone!" said he. "The mire has him. Two in two days, and many more, perhaps, for they get in the way of going there in the dry weather, and never know the difference until the mire has them in its clutches. It's a bad place, the great Grimpen Mire."
“ Men De kan allikevel ferdes trygt der ? ”
"And you say you can penetrate it?"
"Yes, there are one or two paths which a very active man can take. I have found them out."
"But why should you wish to go into so horrible a place?"
"Well, you see the hills beyond? They are really islands cut off on all sides by the impassable mire, which has crawled round them in the course of years. That is where the rare plants and the butterflies are, if you have the wit to reach them."
"I shall try my luck some day."
Han så på meg med et overrasket ansikt.
He looked at me with a surprised face.
"For God's sake put such an idea out of your mind," said he. "Your blood would be upon my head. I assure you that there would not be the least chance of your coming back alive. It is only by remembering certain complex landmarks that I am able to do it."
"Halloa!" I cried. "What is that?"
Et langt, lavt, ubeskrivelig uhyggelig, jamrende hyl lød over sletten. Det fylte hele luften, men det var allikevel umulig å si hvor det kom fra. Fra en dump knurring steg det til et dypt brøl for så igjen å synke tilbake til en dyster, illevarslende knurring. Stapleton betraktet meg med et nysgjerrig uttrykk.
A long, low moan, indescribably sad, swept over the moor. It filled the whole air, and yet it was impossible to say whence it came. From a dull murmur it swelled into a deep roar, and then sank back into a melancholy, throbbing murmur once again. Stapleton looked at me with a curious expression in his face.
“ Et forunderlig sted, denne moen, ” sa han.
"Queer place, the moor!" said he.
"But what is it?"
"The peasants say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for its prey. I've heard it once or twice before, but never quite so loud."
I looked round, with a chill of fear in my heart, at the huge swelling plain, mottled with the green patches of rushes. Nothing stirred over the vast expanse save a pair of ravens, which croaked loudly from a tor behind us.
"You are an educated man. You don't believe such nonsense as that?" said I. "What do you think is the cause of so strange a sound?"
"Bogs make queer noises sometimes. It's the mud settling, or the water rising, or something."
“ Nei, nei, det var en levende røst. ”
"No, no, that was a living voice."
"Well, perhaps it was. Did you ever hear a bittern booming?"
“Nei, aldri.”
"No, I never did."
"It's a very rare bird--practically extinct--in England now, but all things are possible upon the moor. Yes, I should not be surprised to learn that what we have heard is the cry of the last of the bitterns."
"It's the weirdest, strangest thing that ever I heard in my life."
"Yes, it's rather an uncanny place altogether. Look at the hill- side yonder. What do you make of those?"
The whole steep slope was covered with gray circular rings of stone, a score of them at least.
"What are they? Sheep-pens?"
"No, they are the homes of our worthy ancestors. Prehistoric man lived thickly on the moor, and as no one in particular has lived there since, we find all his little arrangements exactly as he left them. These are his wigwams with the roofs off. You can even see his hearth and his couch if you have the curiosity to go inside.
"But it is quite a town. When was it inhabited?"
“ Av neolittiske mennesker. Tiden er ukjent. ”
"Neolithic man--no date."
“ Hvordan levde de ? ”
"What did he do?"
“ De gresset kveget på disse skrentene, og de lærte å grave frem tinn da bronsesverdet erstattet steinøksen. Ser De den store rennen på den høyen som ligger rett ovenfor ? Den er et av sporene de har etterlatt. Ja, De vil finne adskillige merkelige ting her på moen, doktor Watson. Å, unnskyld et øyeblikk ! Det er sikkert en Cyclopides. ”
"He grazed his cattle on these slopes, and he learned to dig for tin when the bronze sword began to supersede the stone axe. Look at the great trench in the opposite hill. That is his mark. Yes, you will find some very singular points about the moor, Dr. Watson. Oh, excuse me an instant! It is surely Cyclopides."
Et lite insekt hadde summet over stien. Stapleton sprang øyeblikkelig etter det og ga seg med største iherdighet til å forfølge det. Til min skrekk fløy det rett mot den store myren, men min nye bekjent lot seg ikke et øyeblikk stanse. Han sprang fra tue til tue med sitt grønne nett flagrende i luften, og hans grå drakt og rykkvise, siksakformige sprang gjorde ham ikke så ulik et kjempeinsekt selv. Jeg stod og fulgte ham med en blanding av beundring for hans usedvanlige letthet, og frykt for at han skulle miste fotfeste i den forræderiske myr, da jeg hørte lyden av skritt, og da jeg vendte meg om, så jeg en kvinne like ved meg på stien. Hun var kommet fra den kant hvor røksøylen viste at Merripit-gården lå, men moens forhøyninger hadde skjult henne inntil hun var like i nærheten.
A small fly or moth had fluttered across our path, and in an instant Stapleton was rushing with extraordinary energy and speed in pursuit of it. To my dismay the creature flew straight for the great mire, and my acquaintance never paused for an instant, bounding from tuft to tuft behind it, his green net waving in the air. His gray clothes and jerky, zigzag, irregular progress made him not unlike some huge moth himself. I was standing watching his pursuit with a mixture of admiration for his extraordinary activity and fear lest he should lose his footing in the treacherous mire, when I heard the sound of steps, and turning round found a woman near me upon the path. She had come from the direction in which the plume of smoke indicated the position of Merripit House, but the dip of the moor had hid her until she was quite close.
Jeg kunne ikke være i noen tvil om at denne damen var den frøken Stapleton som jeg hadde hørt snakk om. Der kunne jo ikke være mange damer her på moen, og jeg husket nå at jeg hadde hørt henne beskrevet som en skjønnhet. Damen som nå nærmet seg, var utvilsomt en skjønnhet og det en av den mest sjeldne art. Det kunne ikke tenkes en større motsetning mellom bror og søster. Stapleton hadde et mere hverdagsaktig ytre med lyst hår og grå øyne, mens hun var mørkere enn noen brunette jeg har sett i England, høy, slank og elegant. Hun hadde et stolt, finskåret ansikt, så regelmessig at man kunne ha tatt henne for kald, hadde hun ikke hatt den sensible munn og de vakre, sorte, ildfulle øyne. Med sin fullkomne figur og den elegante drakt måtte hun uvilkårlig gjøre et forunderlig inntrykk på denne ensomme moen. Hennes øyne fulgte broren da jeg vendte meg om, men da hun så det, skyndte hun seg mot meg. Jeg hadde tatt min hatt av og var nettopp i ferd med å gjøre en forklarende bemerkning, da hun selv med en gang ledet mine tanker i en fullstendig annen retning.
I could not doubt that this was the Miss Stapleton of whom I had been told, since ladies of any sort must be few upon the moor, and I remembered that I had heard someone describe her as being a beauty. The woman who approached me was certainly that, and of a most uncommon type. There could not have been a greater contrast between brother and sister, for Stapleton was neutral tinted, with light hair and gray eyes, while she was darker than any brunette whom I have seen in England--slim, elegant, and tall. She had a proud, finely cut face, so regular that it might have seemed impassive were it not for the sensitive mouth and the beautiful dark, eager eyes. With her perfect figure and elegant dress she was, indeed, a strange apparition upon a lonely moorland path. Her eyes were on her brother as I turned, and then she quickened her pace towards me. I had raised my hat and was about to make some explanatory remark, when her own words turned all my thoughts into a new channel.
"Go back!" she said. "Go straight back to London, instantly."
I could only stare at her in stupid surprise. Her eyes blazed at me, and she tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
Hun snakket med dempet stemme.
"Why should I go back?" I asked.
"I cannot explain." She spoke in a low, eager voice, with a curious lisp in her utterance. "But for God's sake do what I ask you. Go back and never set foot upon the moor again."
"But I have only just come."
“ Menneske, menneske ! ” utbrøt hun. “ Kan De ikke forstå at min advarsel er til Deres eget beste ? Reis tilbake til London ! Gjør det med en gang i aften ! De må for enhver pris bort fra dette stedet ! Hysj ! Der kommer min bror ! Ikke et ord om hva jeg har sagt ! Å, De vil vel ikke rekke meg orkidéen derhenne. Vi har en slik rikdom på orkidéer her på moen, selv om De naturligvis er kommet for sent på året til å kunne treffe på de vakreste. ”
"Man, man!" she cried. "Can you not tell when a warning is for your own good? Go back to London! Start to-night! Get away from this place at all costs! Hush, my brother is coming! Not a word of what I have said. Would you mind getting that orchid for me among the mares-tails yonder? We are very rich in orchids on the moor, though, of course, you are rather late to see the beauties of the place."
Stapleton had abandoned the chase and came back to us breathing hard and flushed with his exertions.
"Halloa, Beryl!" said he, and it seemed to me that the tone of his greeting was not altogether a cordial one.
“ Du er visst svært varm, Jack. ”
"Well, Jack, you are very hot."
"Yes, I was chasing a Cyclopides. He is very rare and seldom found in the late autumn. What a pity that I should have missed him!" He spoke unconcernedly, but his small light eyes glanced incessantly from the girl to me.
"You have introduced yourselves, I can see."
"Yes. I was telling Sir Henry that it was rather late for him to see the true beauties of the moor."
"Why, who do you think this is?"
"I imagine that it must be Sir Henry Baskerville."
"No, no," said I. "Only a humble commoner, but his friend. My name is Dr. Watson."
A flush of vexation passed over her expressive face. "We have been talking at cross purposes," said she.
"Why, you had not very much time for talk," her brother remarked with the same questioning eyes.
"I talked as if Dr. Watson were a resident instead of being merely a visitor," said she. "It cannot much matter to him whether it is early or late for the orchids. But you will come on, will you not, and see Merripit House?"
En kort spasertur brakte oss ditt. Det var et trist hus ute på moen. En gang hadde det vel vært en eller annen stuteprangers gård, i de gode, gamle dager, men nå var huset satt i stand og forandret til en moderne bolig. Det var omgitt av en frukthave, men trærne var, som de pleier å være der på moen, små og forkrøplede, og hele stedet gjorde et trist inntrykk. Vi ble mottatt av en besynderlig, vissen gammel tjener i falmede klær, som syntes å passe til huset. Inne var det derimot store værelser, utstyrt med en eleganse, hvor jeg syntes å gjenkjenne den unge dames smak. Mens jeg stod i vinduet og så ut over den eiendommelige, granittflekkete moen som strakte seg uten ende til den fjerneste synskrets, måtte jeg uvilkårlig med forundring spørre meg selv hva som kunne ha brakt denne høyt dannede mannen og den vakre damen til å slå seg ned på et slikt sted.
A short walk brought us to it, a bleak moorland house, once the farm of some grazier in the old prosperous days, but now put into repair and turned into a modern dwelling. An orchard surrounded it, but the trees, as is usual upon the moor, were stunted and nipped, and the effect of the whole place was mean and melancholy. We were admitted by a strange, wizened, rusty-coated old manservant, who seemed in keeping with the house. Inside, however, there were large rooms furnished with an elegance in which I seemed to recognize the taste of the lady. As I looked from their windows at the interminable granite-flecked moor rolling unbroken to the farthest horizon I could not but marvel at what could have brought this highly educated man and this beautiful woman to live in such a place.
"Queer spot to choose, is it not?" said he as if in answer to my thought. "And yet we manage to make ourselves fairly happy, do we not, Beryl?"
"Quite happy," said she, but there was no ring of conviction in her words.
“ Jeg hadde en skole, ” sa Stapleton. “ Det var nord i landet. Skolearbeidet var imidlertid for en mann med mitt temperament altfor mekanisk og uinteressant, men jeg satte stor pris på å leve sammen med ungdommen, hjelpe til å befrukte de unge sinn og prege dem med min karakter og mine egne idealer. Men skjebnen var oss i mot. En alvorlig epidemi brøt ut i skolen, og tre av guttene døde. Skolen kom seg aldri etter denne hjemsøkelse, og en stor del av min kapital gikk med. Men hadde jeg ikke savnet guttenes morsomme selskap ville jeg ha kunnet finne meg i min ulykke. For med min store forkjærlighet for botanikk og zoologi finner jeg en ubegrenset arbeidsmark her, og min søster går likeså fullt opp i naturen som jeg selv. Jeg kunne se på Deres uttrykk at alt dette gikk gjennom Deres hode, doktor Watson, da De betraktet moen gjennom vinduet. ”
"I had a school," said Stapleton. "It was in the north country. The work to a man of my temperament was mechanical and uninteresting, but the privilege of living with youth, of helping to mould those young minds, and of impressing them with one's own character and ideals, was very dear to me. However, the fates were against us. A serious epidemic broke out in the school and three of the boys died. It never recovered from the blow, and much of my capital was irretrievably swallowed up. And yet, if it were not for the loss of the charming companionship of the boys, I could rejoice over my own misfortune, for, with my strong tastes for botany and zoology, I find an unlimited field of work here, and my sister is as devoted to Nature as I am. All this, Dr. Watson, has been brought upon your head by your expression as you surveyed the moor out of our window."
"It certainly did cross my mind that it might be a little dull--less for you, perhaps, than for your sister."
"No, no, I am never dull," said she, quickly.
“ Vi har bøker; vi har våre studier, og vi har interessante naboer. Doktor Mortimer er en lærd mann på sitt område. Stakkars sir Charles var også en pregtig omgangsfelle. Vi kjente ham godt og savner ham mer enn jeg kan si. Mener De det ville være påtrengende, om jeg kom i aften for å gjøre sir Henrys bekjentskap ? ”
"We have books, we have our studies, and we have interesting neighbours. Dr. Mortimer is a most learned man in his own line. Poor Sir Charles was also an admirable companion. We knew him well, and miss him more than I can tell. Do you think that I should intrude if I were to call this afternoon and make the acquaintance of Sir Henry?"
"I am sure that he would be delighted."
“ Kanskje De vil ha den godhet å nevne for ham at jeg gjerne ønsker det. Vi må med våre beskjedne midler gjøre noe for å gjøre oppholdet lettere for ham, inntil han får vennet seg til sine nye omgivelser. Vil De bli med ovenpå og se min samling av Lepidoptera, doktor Watson ? Jeg tenker det er den mest fullstendige i hele det sydvestlige England. Vi kan se dem på dem til lunchen blir ferdig. ”
"Then perhaps you would mention that I propose to do so. We may in our humble way do something to make things more easy for him until he becomes accustomed to his new surroundings. Will you come upstairs, Dr. Watson, and inspect my collection of Lepidoptera? I think it is the most complete one in the south-west of England. By the time that you have looked through them lunch will be almost ready."
Men jeg lengtet bare etter å komme tilbake til min post. Moens uhygge, den arme hests død, den selsomme lyden som var satt i forbindelse med det stygge sagnet om Baskervillerne — alt dette hadde fylt meg med uro og tungsinn. Til disse mere eller mindre ubestemte inntrykk kom så frøken Stapletons bestemte og tydelige advarsel, som var gitt med så dypt alvor at det ikke kunne være tvil om at hun måtte ha en eller annen vektig grunn for sin opptreden. Jeg motstod alle oppfordringer om å bli til lunch og bega meg straks på tilbakeveien ad den samme stien som vi var kommet.
But I was eager to get back to my charge. The melancholy of the moor, the death of the unfortunate pony, the weird sound which had been associated with the grim legend of the Baskervilles, all these things tinged my thoughts with sadness. Then on the top of these more or less vague impressions there had come the definite and distinct warning of Miss Stapleton, delivered with such intense earnestness that I could not doubt that some grave and deep reason lay behind it. I resisted all pressure to stay for lunch, and I set off at once upon my return journey, taking the grass-grown path by which we had come.
It seems, however, that there must have been some short cut for those who knew it, for before I had reached the road I was astounded to see Miss Stapleton sitting upon a rock by the side of the track. Her face was beautifully flushed with her exertions, and she held her hand to her side.
“ Jeg har sprunget hele tiden for å innhente Dem, doktor Watson, ” sa hun. “ Jeg fikk ikke en gang tid til å ta hatten på meg. Jeg må skynde meg tilbake, ellers kunne min bror savne meg; men jeg måtte få sagt Dem hvor bedrøvet jeg er over den dumme feiltagelsen jeg gjorde da jeg trodde at De var sir Henry. Glem endelig hva jeg sa, det angår aldeles ikke Dem. ”
"I have run all the way in order to cut you off, Dr. Watson," said she. "I had not even time to put on my hat. I must not stop, or my brother may miss me. I wanted to say to you how sorry I am about the stupid mistake I made in thinking that you were Sir Henry. Please forget the words I said, which have no application whatever to you."
"But I can't forget them, Miss Stapleton," said I. "I am Sir Henry's friend, and his welfare is a very close concern of mine. Tell me why it was that you were so eager that Sir Henry should return to London."
"A woman's whim, Dr. Watson. When you know me better you will understand that I cannot always give reasons for what I say or do."
“ Nei, nei. Jeg husker angsten i Deres stemme. Jeg husker uttrykket i Deres øyne. Men, frøken Stapleton, vær kun oppriktig mot meg. Siden jeg kom hit, har jeg hatt en fornemmelse som om der var skygger rundt omkring meg. Livet er aldeles som Grimpenmyren med små grønne flekker over alt, som man kan synke ned i, mens det ikke finnes noe som kan vise en veien. Si meg derfor hva De mener; jeg skal love å overbringe Deres advarsel til sir Henry. ”
"No, no. I remember the thrill in your voice. I remember the look in your eyes. Please, please, be frank with me, Miss Stapleton, for ever since I have been here I have been conscious of shadows all round me. Life has become like that great Grimpen Mire, with little green patches everywhere into which one may sink and with no guide to point the track. Tell me then what it was that you meant, and I will promise to convey your warning to Sir Henry."
An expression of irresolution passed for an instant over her face, but her eyes had hardened again when she answered me.
“ De legger altfor meget vekt på det, doktor Watson, ” sa hun. “ Min bror og jeg ble dypt rystet ved sir Charles Baskervilles død. Vi stod ham meget nær. Hans yndlingstur var alltid over moen til vårt hus. Han var meget trykket av tanken på den skjebnen som hang truende over hans slekt, og da ulykken kom var det naturlig at jeg følte at det virkelig måtte ligge noe til grunn for denne frykten han hadde næret. Jeg ble derfor høyst uhyggelig til mote da et nytt medlem av slekten kom hit for å bosette seg. Jeg følte at han måtte bli advart om faren han ville utsette seg for. Det var alt jeg ønsket å si. ”
"You make too much of it, Dr. Watson," said she. "My brother and I were very much shocked by the death of Sir Charles. We knew him very intimately, for his favourite walk was over the moor to our house. He was deeply impressed with the curse which hung over the family, and when this tragedy came I naturally felt that there must be some grounds for the fears which he had expressed. I was distressed therefore when another member of the family came down to live here, and I felt that he should be warned of the danger which he will run. That was all which I intended to convey.
“ Men hva består denne faren i ? ”
"But what is the danger?"
"You know the story of the hound?"
“ Jo, men jeg tror ikke på slikt snakk. ”
"I do not believe in such nonsense."
"But I do. If you have any influence with Sir Henry, take him away from a place which has always been fatal to his family. The world is wide. Why should he wish to live at the place of danger?"
"Because it is the place of danger. That is Sir Henry's nature. I fear that unless you can give me some more definite information than this it would be impossible to get him to move."
"I cannot say anything definite, for I do not know anything definite."
"I would ask you one more question, Miss Stapleton. If you meant no more than this when you first spoke to me, why should you not wish your brother to overhear what you said? There is nothing to which he, or anyone else, could object."
“ Min bror vil endelig ha Baskerville herregård bebodd; han mener det vil komme fattigfolk her på moen til gode. Han ville bli meget oppbrakt hvis han fikk vite at jeg hadde sagt noe som kunne drive sir Henry til å reise. Men nå har jeg gjort min plikt og kan ikke si mere. Jeg må nå gå tilbake, ellers vil han savne meg og mistenke meg for å ha truffet Dem. Farvel ! ” Hun vendte seg om og var i løpet av noen minutter forsvunnet mellom steinblokkene, mens jeg, fylt av en ubeskrivelig angst, fortsatte min vei til Baskerville herregård.
"My brother is very anxious to have the Hall inhabited, for he thinks it is for the good of the poor folk upon the moor. He would be very angry if he knew that I have said anything which might induce Sir Henry to go away. But I have done my duty now and I will say no more. I must get back, or he will miss me and suspect that I have seen you. Good-bye!" She turned and had disappeared in a few minutes among the scattered boulders, while I, with my soul full of vague fears, pursued my way to Baskerville Hall.
Åttende kapitel. Doktor Watsons første innberetning.
Chapter 8 First Report of Dr. Watson
FRA nå av vil jeg heretter følge begivenhetenes gang ved å gjengi mine egne brev til Sherlock Holmes, som nå ligger på bordet foran meg. Ett blad mangler, men forøvrig er de nøyaktig som de ble skrevet, og viser mine følelser og mine mistenksomme innskytelser i øyeblikket nøyaktigere enn min erindring — hvor skarp den enn er om disse ting — muligens ville kunne være.
>From this point onward I will follow the course of events by transcribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before me on the table. One page is missing, but otherwise they are exactly as written and show my feelings and suspicions of the moment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon these tragic events, can possibly do.
Baskerville herregård, 13de oktober.
Baskerville Hall, October 13th.
Min kjære Holmes ! De foregående brev og telegrammer har holdt Dem godt underrettet om alt som er hendt i denne verdens mest åndsforlatte avkrok. Jo lenger man blir her, jo mere blir sinnet påvirket av moens ånd, goldheten og den overveldende uhyggen. Når man en gang er trengt inn i dens indre har man latt alle spor av det moderne England bak seg, men samtidig har man bevisstheten om å befinne seg mellom et forhistorisk folks hjem og verker. Hvor man enn går har man rundt omkring disse glemte menneskers hus, deres graver og de anseelige steiner som antas å ha vært deres templer. Når man betrakter deres grå steinhytter på de skrånende skrentene, legger man sin egen tidsalder bak seg, og om man plutselig fikk se et skinnkledt, håret menneske krype frem av den lave døren og legge en pil med flintespiss på buestrengen ville man føle at dette villmenneskets tilstedeværelse her var langt naturligere enn ens egen. Hvor det er merkelig at de har kunnet leve så tett på en jordbunn som denne, som alltid må ha vært i høyeste grad ufruktbar. Jeg er ingen arkeolog, men jeg kan tenke meg at de har vært et fredselskende, jaget folkeferd, som var nødt til å slå seg ned på steder hvor ingen andre ville oppholde seg.
MY DEAR HOLMES,--My previous letters and telegrams have kept you pretty well up to date as to all that has occurred in this most God-forsaken corner of the world. The longer one stays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one's soul, its vastness, and also its grim charm. When you are once out upon its bosom you have left all traces of modern England behind you, but on the other hand you are conscious everywhere of the homes and the work of the prehistoric people. On all sides of you as you walk are the houses of these forgotten folk, with their graves and the huge monoliths which are supposed to have marked their temples. As you look at their gray stone huts against the scarred hill-sides you leave your own age behind you, and if you were to see a skin-clad, hairy man crawl out from the low door fitting a flint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow, you would feel that his presence there was more natural than your own. The strange thing is that they should have lived so thickly on what must always have been most unfruitful soil. I am no antiquarian, but I could imagine that they were some unwarlike and harried race who were forced to accept that which none other would occupy.
Men alt dette har ingen ting å gjøre med oppdraget som De har sendt meg ut i, og det har kanskje ingen som helst interesse for en så strengt praktisk mann som Dem. Jeg kan ennå huske hvor fullstendig likegyldig De var overfor spørsmålet om solen beveget seg rundt jorden eller jorden rundt solen. La meg derfor komme tilbake til de ting, som angår sir Henry Baskerville.
All this, however, is foreign to the mission on which you sent me and will probably be very uninteresting to your severely practical mind. I can still remember your complete indifference as to whether the sun moved round the earth or the earth round the sun. Let me, therefore, return to the facts concerning Sir Henry Baskerville.
If you have not had any report within the last few days it is because up to to-day there was nothing of importance to relate. Then a very surprising circumstance occurred, which I shall tell you in due course. But, first of all, I must keep you in touch with some of the other factors in the situation.
Men først og fremst må jeg holde Dem underrettet om visse andre omstendigheter ved stillingen her. En av disse, hvorom jeg hittil har uttalt meg meget kortfattet, er den rømte fangen på moen. Det er nå god grunn til å anta at han har strøket sin vei. Dette er naturligvis en stor trøst for egnens ensomme beboere. Et par uker er allerede gått siden hans flukt, og siden har man hverken sett eller spurt det minste til ham. Det er visselig ufattelig at han hadde kunnet holde ut på moen hele denne tiden. Å holde seg skjult ville imidlertid ikke ha voldt ham noen vanskelighet. Han ville finne et utmerket skjulested i hvilken som helst av disse steinhyttene. Men han ville ikke ha noe å spise, hvis han ikke tok og slaktet en av sauene på moen. Folk tror derfor at han er strøket sin vei, og på de ensomt liggende gårdene har man siden sovet tryggere.
One of these, concerning which I have said little, is the escaped convict upon the moor. There is strong reason now to believe that he has got right away, which is a considerable relief to the lonely householders of this district. A fortnight has passed since his flight, during which he has not been seen and nothing has been heard of him. It is surely inconceivable that he could have held out upon the moor during all that time. Of course, so far as his concealment goes there is no difficulty at all. Any one of these stone huts would give him a hiding-place. But there is nothing to eat unless he were to catch and slaughter one of the moor sheep. We think, therefore, that he has gone, and the outlying farmers sleep the better in consequence.
Vi er i dette hus fire sterke menn, så vi kan ta vare på oss selv, men jeg må tilstå at jeg har hatt ubehagelige øyeblikk når jeg har tenkt på Stapletons. De lever langt utenfor all hjelp. I huset finnes en pike, en gammel tjener, søsteren og broren, og han er ingen særlig sterk mann. De ville stå hjelpeløse overfor et villmenneske som fangen fra Notting Hill hvis han ville forsøke å trenge inn hos dem. Sir Henry og jeg var begge engstelige for dem, og det ble foreslått, at kusken Perkins skulle gå derover og sove der, men det ville Stapleton ikke høre noe om.
We are four able-bodied men in this household, so that we could take good care of ourselves, but I confess that I have had uneasy moments when I have thought of the Stapletons. They live miles from any help. There are one maid, an old manservant, the sister, and the brother, the latter not a very strong man. They would be helpless in the hands of a desperate fellow like this Notting Hill criminal, if he could once effect an entrance. Both Sir Henry and I were concerned at their situation, and it was suggested that Perkins the groom should go over to sleep there, but Stapleton would not hear of it.
Det er imidlertid en kjennsgjerning at vår venn, sir Henry, begynner å vise en øyensynlig interesse for vår vakre nabo. Det er heller ikke noe å undres over, for tiden blir overmåte lang på dette ensomme stedet for en virksom mann som ham, og hun er en meget vakker og bedårende dame. Der er noe tropisk og eksotisk ved henne; hun er i så henseende en merkelig motsetning til hennes kalde, mindre lettbevegelige bror. Man får dog inntrykk av at han også er i besittelse av større varme, enn det ser ut til. Han har sikkert en meget sterk innflytelse på søsteren, for jeg har lagt merke til at hun stadig ser på ham når hun snakker, som om hun søkte hans billigelse av hva hun sier. Han er sikkert meget snill mot henne. Men det er en tørr glans i hans øyne og et bestemt drag om hans tynne lepper som tyder på en stivnakket og muligens hård natur. De ville visst nok finne at han var meget interessant å studere.
The fact is that our friend, the baronet, begins to display a considerable interest in our fair neighbour. It is not to be wondered at, for time hangs heavily in this lonely spot to an active man like him, and she is a very fascinating and beautiful woman. There is something tropical and exotic about her which forms a singular contrast to her cool and unemotional brother. Yet he also gives the idea of hidden fires. He has certainly a very marked influence over her, for I have seen her continually glance at him as she talked as if seeking approbation for what she said. I trust that he is kind to her. There is a dry glitter in his eyes, and a firm set of his thin lips, which goes with a positive and possibly a harsh nature. You would find him an interesting study.
Han kom herover for å hilse på sir Henry den første dagen, og allerede neste formiddag tok han oss begge med for å vise oss stedet hvor sagnet om den onde Hugo skal skrive seg fra. Det ble en lang tur over moen til et sted som vitterlig er så uhyggelig at det godt kan ha gitt støtet til at nevnte sagn er oppstått. Vi fant en kort dal mellom taggete fjellknauser, hvorigjennom vi kom til en åpen gresskledt plass. Midt på den hevet to store steiner seg; oventil var de slitt og tilspisset så de lignet et eller andet kjempedyrs huggtenner. De var fullstendig i stil med skueplassen for den gamle tragedie forøvrig. Sir Henry var meget interessert og spurte Stapleton mere enn en gang om han virkelig trodde på muligheten av noen overjordisk inngripen i menneskenes anliggender. Han snakket ganske likegyldig, men det var åpenbart at han tok saken meget alvorlig. Stapleton var meget forsiktig i sine svar, men det var lett å skjønne, at han sa mindre enn han ønsket å si, og at han ikke ville si rent ut hva han mente av hensyn til sir Henry. Han fortalte om lignende tilfeller hvor en familie hadde stått under en ond ånds makt, og da han forlot oss hadde vi det inntrykk at han her delte den alminnelige folketro.
He came over to call upon Baskerville on that first day, and the very next morning he took us both to show us the spot where the legend of the wicked Hugo is supposed to have had its origin. It was an excursion of some miles across the moor to a place which is so dismal that it might have suggested the story. We found a short valley between rugged tors which led to an open, grassy space flecked over with the white cotton grass. In the middle of it rose two great stones, worn and sharpened at the upper end, until they looked like the huge corroding fangs of some monstrous beast. In every way it corresponded with the scene of the old tragedy. Sir Henry was much interested and asked Stapleton more than once whether he did really believe in the possibility of the interference of the supernatural in the affairs of men. He spoke lightly, but it was evident that he was very much in earnest. Stapleton was guarded in his replies, but it was easy to see that he said less than he might, and that he would not express his whole opinion out of consideration for the feelings of the baronet. He told us of similar cases, where families had suffered from some evil influence, and he left us with the impression that he shared the popular view upon the matter.
På tilbakeveien ble vi til lunch på Merripitgården. Det var der sir Henry gjorde frøken Stapletons bekjentskap. Fra første øyeblikk han så henne, syntes han å være sterkt tiltrukket, og jeg skulle ta meget feil om følelsen ikke var gjensidig. Han kom atter og atter tilbake til henne under vår samtale på hjemveien, og siden er der neppe gått noen dag uten at vi har sett broren eller søsteren. I dag er de her til middag, og det er snakk om at vi skal spise middag hos dem en gang i neste uke. En skulle ha trodd at et slikt parti ville være Stapleton meget kjærkomment, men jeg har mere enn en gang oppdaget et sterkt misbilligende uttrykk i hans ansikt når sir Henry har vist hans søster en eller annen oppmerksomhet. Han holder utvilsomt meget av henne og ville komme til å leve et overmåte ensomt liv uten henne, men det ville vel være toppmålet av egenkjærlighet hvis han ville hindre henne fra å gjøre et så glimrende parti. Dog føler jeg meg overbevist om at han ikke synes om at deres bekjentskap skal gå over til kjærlighet. Og jeg har flere ganger lagt merke til at han har gjort seg umake for at de ikke skulle komme på tomannshånd. Deres påbud til meg om aldri å la sir Henry gå ut alene vil virkelig bli meget besværligere å oppfylle dersom alle de andre vanskeligheter også skulle økes med en kjærlighetshistorie. Den gunst jeg står i ville visst snart synke hvis jeg i det tilfellet ville følge Deres ordre bokstavelig.
On our way back we stayed for lunch at Merripit House, and it was there that Sir Henry made the acquaintance of Miss Stapleton. >From the first moment that he saw her he appeared to be strongly attracted by her, and I am much mistaken if the feeling was not mutual. He referred to her again and again on our walk home, and since then hardly a day has passed that we have not seen something of the brother and sister. They dine here to-night, and there is some talk of our going to them next week. One would imagine that such a match would be very welcome to Stapleton, and yet I have more than once caught a look of the strongest disapprobation in his face when Sir Henry has been paying some attention to his sister. He is much attached to her, no doubt, and would lead a lonely life without her, but it would seem the height of selfishness if he were to stand in the way of her making so brilliant a marriage. Yet I am certain that he does not wish their intimacy to ripen into love, and I have several times observed that he has taken pains to prevent them from being tˆte-…-tˆte. By the way, your instructions to me never to allow Sir Henry to go out alone will become very much more onerous if a love affair were to be added to our other difficulties. My popularity would soon suffer if I were to carry out your orders to the letter.
Forleden dag — torsdag, for å være mere nøyaktig — var doktor Mortimer her til lunch. Han var nettopp i ferd med å utgrave en kjempehaug i Long Down og hadde her hatt den glede å finne en forhistorisk hjerneskalle. Ingen kunne være mere ensidig begeistret enn han ! Stapletons innfant seg senere, og den gode doktor tok oss etter sir Henrys oppfordring med til barlindalléen for å vise oss nøyaktig hvordan alt foregikk den skjebnesvangre aftenen. Den dystre, lange gangen fører gjennom klippede hekker som står som høye murer på begge sidene, med en smal gresskant på hver side av veien. Ved enden ligger et gammelt, falleferdig lysthus. Halvveis nede i alléen tar veien av ut til moen, hvor den gamle herre hadde sluppet ned sigarasken. Den er stengt med en hvit tregrind med en klinke. Utenfor ligger den store, øde moen. Jeg husket Deres slutninger om tildragelsen og forsøkte i fantasien å forestille meg alt slik som det måtte være hendt: Som den gamle mannen stod der ved grinden, så han noe komme henover moen — noe som skremte ham slik at han gikk rent fra sans og samling og sprang og sprang, inntil han falt død om av skrekk og utmattelse. Der lå den lange, uhyggelige hvelvede gangen som han flyktet ned gjennom. Og for hva ? For en gjeterhund fra moen ? Eller en sort, taus, kjempemessig spøkelseshund ? Stod det mennesker bak ? Visste kanskje den bleke, forsiktige Barrymore mer enn han brydde seg om å si ? Alt var uklart og ubestemt, men overalt skimtes likesom den mørke skyggen av en forbrytelse.
The other day--Thursday, to be more exact--Dr. Mortimer lunched with us. He has been excavating a barrow at Long Down, and has got a prehistoric skull which fills him with great joy. Never was there such a single-minded enthusiast as he! The Stapletons came in afterwards, and the good doctor took us all to the Yew Alley, at Sir Henry's request, to show us exactly how everything occurred upon that fatal night. It is a long, dismal walk, the Yew Alley, between two high walls of clipped hedge, with a narrow band of grass upon either side. At the far end is an old tumble-down summer-house. Half-way down is the moor-gate, where the old gentleman left his cigar-ash. It is a white wooden gate with a latch. Beyond it lies the wide moor. I remembered your theory of the affair and tried to picture all that had occurred. As the old man stood there he saw something coming across the moor, something which terrified him so that he lost his wits, and ran and ran until he died of sheer horror and exhaustion. There was the long, gloomy tunnel down which he fled. And from what? A sheep-dog of the moor? Or a spectral hound, black, silent, and monstrous? Was there a human agency in the matter? Did the pale, watchful Barrymore know more than he cared to say? It was all dim and vague, but always there is the dark shadow of crime behind it.
Jeg har også møtt en annen nabo, siden jeg skrev sist. Det er Frankland fra Lafter herregård, som bor en seks kilometers vei syd for oss. Det er en eldre mann med et rødt ansikt, hvitt hår og et meget heftig temperament. Hans lidenskap er lovkyndighet, og han har brukt en meget anselig formue på prosesser. Han prosederer bare for å prosedere, og han er like rede til å ta hvilket parti det skal være, så det er ikke så underlig om det er blitt ham en kostbar fornøyelse. Undertiden kan han finne på å stenge en vei og nekte bygdens folk å benytte den. Til andre tider kan han med egne hender rive ned en annen manns grind og påstå at det har vært en sti der fra alders tid, og bestride at eieren kan nekte dens benyttelse. Han er en lærd mann i alt som vedrører grunnrettigheter og kommunale lover og vedtekter, og sin kunnskap benytter han undertiden til gunst for beboerne i Fernworthy og undertiden mot dem. Derfor blir han snart båret i triumf gjennom landsbyens gater, snart brent in effigie, ettersom han har valgt å ta parti for eller i mot. For øyeblikket skal han ha syv saker for retten; de vil sannsynligvis sluke resten av hans formue og gjøre ham uskadelig for fremtiden. Når man ser bort fra denne prosessyken, er han en snill, godslig mann, og jeg nevner ham bare fordi De uttrykkelig påla meg at jeg skulle sende Dem en beskrivelse av våre naboer. Han er nå om dagen opptatt med en eiendommelig beskjeftigelse. Han er amatørastronom og har et utmerket teleskop, hvormed han ligger hele dagen oppe på taket av sitt eget hus og speider utover moen i håp om å få et glimt av den rømte fangen. Dersom han bare ville innskrenke sin energi til det, ville alt være godt og vel; men det går rykter om at han vil anlegge sak mot doktor Mortimer for å ha åpnet en grav uten de nærmeste pårørendes samtykke da han gravet opp den forhistoriske hjerneskallen fra gravhaugen i Long Down. Vårt liv blir, takket være ham, ikke ensformig. Han forsyner det med den lille komiske tilsetning, som det så høylig trenger.
One other neighbour I have met since I wrote last. This is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who lives some four miles to the south of us. He is an elderly man, red-faced, white-haired, and choleric. His passion is for the British law, and he has spent a large fortune in litigation. He fights for the mere pleasure of fighting and is equally ready to take up either side of a question, so that it is no wonder that he has found it a costly amusement. Sometimes he will shut up a right of way and defy the parish to make him open it. At others he will with his own hands tear down some other man's gate and declare that a path has existed there from time immemorial, defying the owner to prosecute him for trespass. He is learned in old manorial and communal rights, and he applies his knowledge sometimes in favour of the villagers of Fernworthy and sometimes against them, so that he is periodically either carried in triumph down the village street or else burned in effigy, according to his latest exploit. He is said to have about seven lawsuits upon his hands at present, which will probably swallow up the remainder of his fortune and so draw his sting and leave him harmless for the future. Apart from the law he seems a kindly, good-natured person, and I only mention him because you were particular that I should send some description of the people who surround us. He is curiously employed at present, for, being an amateur astronomer, he has an excellent telescope, with which he lies upon the roof of his own house and sweeps the moor all day in the hope of catching a glimpse of the escaped convict. If he would confine his energies to this all would be well, but there are rumours that he intends to prosecute Dr. Mortimer for opening a grave without the consent of the next-of-kin, because he dug up the Neolithic skull in the barrow on Long Down. He helps to keep our lives from being monotonous and gives a little comic relief where it is badly needed.
And now, having brought you up to date in the escaped convict, the Stapletons, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland, of Lafter Hall, let me end on that which is most important and tell you more about the Barrymores, and especially about the surprising development of last night.
Først og fremst har vi imidlertid det prøvetelegrammet som De sendte fra London for å forvisse Dem om, at Barrymore virkelig befant seg her. Jeg har allerede forklart Dem at poståpnerens forklaring viser at prøven var uten betydning; vi har ikke fått noe bevis hverken for det ene eller det andre. Jeg fortalte sir Henry hvordan saken forholdt seg, og han lot straks på sin vanlige likefremme måte Barrymore kalle inn og spurte ham om han hadde mottatt telegrammet selv. Barrymore bekreftet dette.
First of all about the test telegram, which you sent from London in order to make sure that Barrymore was really here. I have already explained that the testimony of the postmaster shows that the test was worthless and that we have no proof one way or the other. I told Sir Henry how the matter stood, and he at once, in his downright fashion, had Barrymore up and asked him whether he had received the telegram himself. Barrymore said that he had.
"Did the boy deliver it into your own hands?" asked Sir Henry.
Barrymore looked surprised, and considered for a little time.
"No," said he, "I was in the box-room at the time, and my wife brought it up to me."
“ Besvarte De det selv ? ”
"Did you answer it yourself?"
"No; I told my wife what to answer and she went down to write it."
Om aftenen kom han av egen drift tilbake til saken.
In the evening he recurred to the subject of his own accord.
"I could not quite understand the object of your questions this morning, Sir Henry," said he. "I trust that they do not mean that I have done anything to forfeit your confidence?"
Sir Henry had to assure him that it was not so and pacify him by giving him a considerable part of his old wardrobe, the London outfit having now all arrived.
Fru Barrymore interesserer meg meget. Hun er en svær dame, meget innskrenket, i høyeste grad respektabel og en smule puritansk. De kan vanskelig tenke Dem et mindre lettbevegelig menneske. Men jeg har jo allerede fortalt Dem at jeg den første natten hørte henne hulke bittert, og siden har jeg mere enn en gang oppdaget spor av tårer i hennes ansikt. En eller annen dyp sorg gnager bestandig på hennes hjerte. Undertiden spør jeg meg selv om det er minnet om en eller annen skyld som plager henne, og til andre tider mistenker jeg Barrymore for å være en hustyrann. Jeg har alltid hatt en følelse av at det er noe underlig og tvilsomt ved denne mannens karakter, men det som hendte igår natt, har mer enn noe annet styrket min mistanke.
Mrs. Barrymore is of interest to me. She is a heavy, solid person, very limited, intensely respectable, and inclined to be puritanical. You could hardly conceive a less emotional subject. Yet I have told you how, on the first night here, I heard her sobbing bitterly, and since then I have more than once observed traces of tears upon her face. Some deep sorrow gnaws ever at her heart. Sometimes I wonder if she has a guilty memory which haunts her, and sometimes I suspect Barrymore of being a domestic tyrant. I have always felt that there was something singular and questionable in this man's character, but the adventure of last night brings all my suspicions to a head.
I og for seg er det kanskje en ubetydelig sak. De vet at jeg ikke sover riktig godt, og siden jeg begynte å holde vakt her i huset, har min søvn vært enda lettere enn ellers. Ved totiden i natt våknet jeg av å høre listende skritt forbi mitt værelse. Jeg sprang opp, åpnet døren og kikket ut. En lang, sort skygge gled ned over gangen. Den kom fra en mann som gikk forsiktig bortover med et lys i hånden. Han var barbent og kun iført skjorte og benklær. Jeg kunne ikke se hans skikkelse tydelig, men høyden sa meg det var Barrymore. Han gikk meget stille og varsomt, og det var noe ubeskrivelig hemmelighetsfullt og skyldbetynget i hele hans vesen.
And yet it may seem a small matter in itself. You are aware that I am not a very sound sleeper, and since I have been on guard in this house my slumbers have been lighter than ever. Last night, about two in the morning, I was aroused by a stealthy step passing my room. I rose, opened my door, and peeped out. A long black shadow was trailing down the corridor. It was thrown by a man who walked softly down the passage with a candle held in his hand. He was in shirt and trousers, with no covering to his feet. I could merely see the outline, but his height told me that it was Barrymore. He walked very slowly and circumspectly, and there was something indescribably guilty and furtive in his whole appearance.
Jeg har tidligere bemerket at gangen avbrytes av en balkong som går rundt den store forhallen, men at den fortsetter på den andre siden. Jeg ventet til han var kommet ut av syne, og fulgte så etter ham. Da jeg kom rundt balkongen var han nådd til enden av den andre gangen, og jeg kunne på lysskjæret gjennom den åpne dør se at han var gått inn i et av værelsene. Alle værelser her er uten møbler og er ubebodd. Denne vandringen forekom meg derfor så meget mere gåtefull. Lysskjæret fra døren holdt seg hele tiden uforandret, som om han skulle stå urørlig. Jeg gled ned gjennom gangen så lydløst som jeg kunne, og kikket inn gjennom dørsprekken.
I have told you that the corridor is broken by the balcony which runs round the hall, but that it is resumed upon the farther side. I waited until he had passed out of sight and then I followed him. When I came round the balcony he had reached the end of the farther corridor, and I could see from the glimmer of light through an open door that he had entered one of the rooms. Now, all these rooms are unfurnished and unoccupied, so that his expedition became more mysterious than ever. The light shone steadily as if he were standing motionless. I crept down the passage as noiselessly as I could and peeped round the corner of the door.
Barrymore stod lent mot karmen med lyset opp mot vinduet. Hans profil var halvt vendt mot meg, og ansiktet syntes stivt av spenning mens han stirret ut i mørket over moen. Noen minutter stod han slik og stirret ivrig. Derpå dro han et tungt sukk og slukket med en utålmodig bevegelse lyset; jeg skyndte meg øyeblikkelig tilbake til mitt værelse, og kort etter hørte jeg de samme listende skrittene enda en gang utenfor. Lenge etter, da jeg var falt i en lett søvn, hørte jeg en nøkkel bli dreid rundt i en lås et sted, men jeg kunne ikke avgjøre hvor lyden kom fra. Hva dette betyr forstår jeg ikke, men det foregår noe hemmelighetsfullt i dette uhyggelige huset som vi vel før eller senere kommer til bunns i. Jeg vil ikke plage Dem med noe forsøk på forklaring, for De bad meg jo utelukkende fortelle Dem kjennsgjerninger. Jeg har hatt en lang samtale med sir Henry i formiddag, og vi har nå sammen laget vår slagplan på grunnlag av mine iakttagelser fra i natt. Jeg vil ikke si noe mere nå, men min neste innberetning vil forhåpentlig bli interessant å lese. * * *
Barrymore was crouching at the window with the candle held against the glass. His profile was half turned towards me, and his face seemed to be rigid with expectation as he stared out into the blackness of the moor. For some minutes he stood watching intently. Then he gave a deep groan and with an impatient gesture he put out the light. Instantly I made my way back to my room, and very shortly came the stealthy steps passing once more upon their return journey. Long afterwards when I had fallen into a light sleep I heard a key turn somewhere in a lock, but I could not tell whence the sound came. What it all means I cannot guess, but there is some secret business going on in this house of gloom which sooner or later we shall get to the bottom of. I do not trouble you with my theories, for you asked me to furnish you only with facts. I have had a long talk with Sir Henry this morning, and we have made a plan of campaign founded upon my observations of last night. I will not speak about it just now, but it should make my next report interesting reading.
Niende kapitel. Doktor Watsons annen innberetning.
Chapter 9 (Second Report of Dr. Watson) THE LIGHT UPON THE MOOR
Baskerville herregård, 15de oktober.
Baskerville Hall, Oct. 15th.
Min kjære Holmes ! Om jeg ikke så meg i stand til å sende Dem synderlig nytt herfra de første dagene av mitt opphold her, må De vel nå innrømme at jeg forsøker å innhente det forsømte, og at begivenhetene nå følger slag i slag. I min siste innberetning endte jeg med Barrymore ved vinduet, og nå har jeg allerede en hel pose full med nyheter som, hvis jeg ikke tar meget feil, visstnok vil høylig overraske Dem. Sakene har tatt en vending som jeg ikke kunne forutse. På visse punkter er det i løpet av de siste to døgn kommet større klarhet, men på andre er gåtefullheten blitt enda mere uigjennomtrengelig enn før. Men jeg vil fortelle Dem alt, så får De selv dømme.
MY DEAR HOLMES,--If I was compelled to leave you without much news during the early days of my mission you must acknowledge that I am making up for lost time, and that events are now crowding thick and fast upon us. In my last report I ended upon my top note with Barrymore at the window, and now I have quite a budget already which will, unless I am much mistaken, considerably surprise you. Things have taken a turn which I could not have anticipated. In some ways they have within the last forty-eight hours become much clearer and in some ways they have become more complicated. But I will tell you all and you shall judge for yourself.
Før frokost morgenen etter den omtalte hendelsen gikk jeg ned gjennom den nevnte gang og undersøkte værelset hvor jeg hadde sett Barrymore om natten. Vinduet mot vest, som han hadde stirret så ivrig gjennom, hadde, la jeg merke til, en eiendommelighet fremfor alle andre vinduer i huset. Man har herfra den nærmeste utsikt ut over moen. Der er en åpning mellom to trekroner hvor man kan se rett ned på den, mens fra alle de andre vinduer kan man bare skimte den i det fjerne. Siden Barrymore bare kunne benytte dette vinduet til sitt formål, må han altså ha sett etter noe eller noen ute på moen. Det var en meget mørk natt, så jeg kan ikke riktig forstå hvordan han kunne håpe å se noen. Det falt meg inn at det måtte være en eller annen kjærlighetshistorie med i spillet. Det ville kunne forklare hans hemmelighetsfulle oppførsel og konens uro. Barrymore er en mann med et påfallende godt utseende som er vel skikket til å stjele en landspikes hjerte. Det var meget som talte for at min antagelse var riktig. Den døren som ble åpnet som jeg hadde hørt da jeg var kommet tilbake til mitt værelse om natten kunne tyde på at han hadde gått ut til et hemmelig stevnemøte. Det var min tanke om morgenen, og jeg forteller Dem omstendelig om min mistanke, hvor ugrunnet den enn senere har vist seg å være.
Before breakfast on the morning following my adventure I went down the corridor and examined the room in which Barrymore had been on the night before. The western window through which he had stared so intently has, I noticed, one peculiarity above all other windows in the house--it commands the nearest outlook on the moor. There is an opening between two trees which enables one from this point of view to look right down upon it, while from all the other windows it is only a distant glimpse which can be obtained. It follows, therefore, that Barrymore, since only this window would serve the purpose, must have been looking out for something or somebody upon the moor. The night was very dark, so that I can hardly imagine how he could have hoped to see anyone. It had struck me that it was possible that some love intrigue was on foot. That would have accounted for his stealthy movements and also for the uneasiness of his wife. The man is a striking-looking fellow, very well equipped to steal the heart of a country girl, so that this theory seemed to have something to support it. That opening of the door which I had heard after I had returned to my room might mean that he had gone out to keep some clandestine appointment. So I reasoned with myself in the morning, and I tell you the direction of my suspicions, however much the result may have shown that they were unfounded.
Men hva nå enn den virkelige forklaringen av Barrymores opptreden kunne være, følte jeg at jeg ikke kunne beholde denne mistanken for meg selv inntil jeg kunne forklare den. Jeg hadde en samtale med sir Henry etter frokosten, og jeg fortalte ham hva jeg hadde sett. Han ble mindre overrasket enn jeg hadde ventet.
But whatever the true explanation of Barrymore's movements might be, I felt that the responsibility of keeping them to myself until I could explain them was more than I could bear. I had an interview with the baronet in his study after breakfast, and I told him all that I had seen. He was less surprised than I had expected.
"I knew that Barrymore walked about nights, and I had a mind to speak to him about it," said he. "Two or three times I have heard his steps in the passage, coming and going, just about the hour you name."
“ Han begir seg kanskje hver natt til det spesielle vinduet, ” bemerket jeg.
"Perhaps then he pays a visit every night to that particular window," I suggested.
"Perhaps he does. If so, we should be able to shadow him, and see what it is that he is after. I wonder what your friend Holmes would do, if he were here."
"I believe that he would do exactly what you now suggest," said I. "He would follow Barrymore and see what he did."
"Then we shall do it together."
"But surely he would hear us."
"The man is rather deaf, and in any case we must take our chance of that. We'll sit up in my room to-night and wait until he passes." Sir Henry rubbed his hands with pleasure, and it was evident that he hailed the adventure as a relief to his somewhat quiet life upon the moor.
Sir Henry har satt seg i forbindelse med den arkitekten som utarbeidet planene for sir Charles, og med en kontraktør fra London. Vi kan således være forberedt på at her snart vil bli store forandringer. Tapetserere og møbelhandlere har vært her fra Plymouth, og det er åpenbart at vår venn omgåes med omfattende planer og ikke vil spare noen møye eller omkostninger for å gjenoprette sin families storhet. Når huset er ombygget og forsynet med nytt utstyr, mangler der bare en kone for å gjøre det hele fullstendig. Der er mere enn nok som tyder på at det ikke vil vare lenge før det kommer en, hvis vedkommende dame selv er villig. Jeg har sjelden sett en mann så inntatt i en kvinne som sir Henry er i vår vakre nabo, frøken Stapleton. Og dog får ikke denne trofaste kjærlighet utvikle seg så rolig som en kunne ønske, slik som forholdene nå er her. Idag, for eksempel, ble den forstyrret av en uventet hendelse som har voldt vår venn megen ubehagelighet og ergrelse.
The baronet has been in communication with the architect who prepared the plans for Sir Charles, and with a contractor from London, so that we may expect great changes to begin here soon. There have been decorators and furnishers up from Plymouth, and it is evident that our friend has large ideas, and means to spare no pains or expense to restore the grandeur of his family. When the house is renovated and refurnished, all that he will need will be a wife to make it complete. Between ourselves there are pretty clear signs that this will not be wanting if the lady is willing, for I have seldom seen a man more infatuated with a woman than he is with our beautiful neighbour, Miss Stapleton. And yet the course of true love does not run quite as smoothly as one would under the circumstances expect. To-day, for example, its surface was broken by a very unexpected ripple, which has caused our friend considerable perplexity and annoyance.
After the conversation which I have quoted about Barrymore, Sir Henry put on his hat and prepared to go out. As a matter of course I did the same.
"What, are you coming, Watson?" he asked, looking at me in a curious way.
"That depends on whether you are going on the moor," said I.
“ Ja, det skal jeg. ”
"Yes, I am."
"Well, you know what my instructions are. I am sorry to intrude, but you heard how earnestly Holmes insisted that I should not leave you, and especially that you should not go alone upon the moor."
Sir Henry la sin hånd på min skulder med et alvorlig smil.
Sir Henry put his hand upon my shoulder with a pleasant smile.
"My dear fellow," said he, "Holmes, with all his wisdom, did not foresee some things which have happened since I have been on the moor. You understand me? I am sure that you are the last man in the world who would wish to be a spoil-sport. I must go out alone."
It put me in a most awkward position. I was at a loss what to say or what to do, and before I had made up my mind he picked up his cane and was gone.
Men da jeg tenkte over saken, hadde jeg ordentlig samvittighetsnag for at jeg under noe som helst påskudd hadde sluppet ham ute av syne. Jeg forestilte meg hvordan mine følelser ville bli om jeg måtte vende tilbake til Dem og bekjenne at en ulykke var hendt fordi jeg ikke hadde fulgt Deres instrukser. Jeg forsikrer Dem at jeg ble het bare ved tanken på det. Det var muligens ennå ikke for sent til å innhente ham, og jeg bega meg derfor straks avsted i retning av Merripit-gården.
But when I came to think the matter over my conscience reproached me bitterly for having on any pretext allowed him to go out of my sight. I imagined what my feelings would be if I had to return to you and to confess that some misfortune had occurred through my disregard for your instructions. I assure you my cheeks flushed at the very thought. It might not even now be too late to overtake him, so I set off at once in the direction of Merripit House.
Jeg skyndte meg alt hva jeg kunne, men så ikke noe til sir Henry før jeg kom til det stedet hvor stien tar av hen til moen. Jeg var redd for at jeg tross alt ikke var på riktig vei, og gikk derfor opp på en høyde hvorfra jeg hadde utsikt over moen. Det var den høyden hvor steinbruddet ligger. Herfra oppdaget jeg ham straks. Han spaserte henover stien sammen med en dame som ikke kunne være noen annen enn frøken Stapleton. Det var klart at det allerede var kommet til forståelse mellom dem, og at de hadde møtt hverandre etter avtale. De drev langsomt henover stien, fordypet i samtale, og jeg så henne gjøre små, raske bevegelser med hendene, som om det hun sa var meget alvorlig, mens han lyttet spent og et par ganger rystet på hodet, som om han var sterkt uenig. Jeg stod og betraktet dem, meget tvilrådig om hva jeg skulle gjøre. Å gå etter dem og avbryte deres fortrolige samtale ville være påtrengenhet, men det var jo min plikt å ikke la ham være ute av syne et eneste øyeblikk. Å være spion overfor en venn var et avskyelig verv. Men jeg kunne ikke finne noe bedre å gjøre enn å iaktta ham fra høyden her og lette min samvittighet ved siden å tilstå for ham hva jeg hadde gjort. Det er sant at jeg ville ha vært for langt borte til å være ham til noen nytte om en plutselig fare skulle ha truet ham, men jeg er overbevist om at De vil være enig med meg i at situasjonen var meget vanskelig, og at jeg ikke kunne gjøre mere.
I hurried along the road at the top of my speed without seeing anything of Sir Henry, until I came to the point where the moor path branches off. There, fearing that perhaps I had come in the wrong direction after all, I mounted a hill from which I could command a view--the same hill which is cut into the dark quarry. Thence I saw him at once. He was on the moor path, about a quarter of a mile off, and a lady was by his side who could only be Miss Stapleton. It was clear that there was already an understanding between them and that they had met by appointment. They were walking slowly along in deep conversation, and I saw her making quick little movements of her hands as if she were very earnest in what she was saying, while he listened intently, and once or twice shook his head in strong dissent. I stood among the rocks watching them, very much puzzled as to what I should do next. To follow them and break into their intimate conversation seemed to be an outrage, and yet my clear duty was never for an instant to let him out of my sight. To act the spy upon a friend was a hateful task. Still, I could see no better course than to observe him from the hill, and to clear my conscience by confessing to him afterwards what I had done. It is true that if any sudden danger had threatened him I was too far away to be of use, and yet I am sure that you will agree with me that the position was very difficult, and that there was nothing more which I could do.
Vår venn sir Henry og damen hadde stanset på stien og var nå helt opptatt av sin samtale, da jeg plutselig oppdaget at jeg ikke var det eneste vitnet til deres møte. Noe grønt, som beveget seg gjennom luften, vakte min oppmerksomhet. I neste øyeblikk så jeg at det grønne ble båret på en stokk av en mann som beveget seg mellom bakkene. Det var Stapleton med sitt sommerfuglnett. Han var langt nærmere de to enn jeg var, og det så ut som han beveget seg i retning av dem. I samme øyeblikk dro sir Henry frøken Stapleton hen til seg. Han la sin arm om henne, men det så for meg ut som om hun forsøkte å rive seg løs fra ham og hadde ansiktet bortvendt. Han bøyde sitt hode ned mot hennes, og hun hevet den ene hånden, som til protest. I neste øyeblikk så jeg dem plutselig springe fra hverandre og vende seg raskt helt om. Det var Stapleton som hadde overrasket dem. Han sprang i vilt løp mot dem, mens nettet dinglet bak ham. Han gestikulerte heftig og nesten danset i opphisselse foran de to elskende. Hva dette opptrinnet skulle bety kunne jeg ikke forstå, men det forekom meg at Stapleton skjelte ut sir Henry, som først forsøkte å forklare seg, men ble hissig da den andre nektet å motta hans forklaring. Damen stod og hørte på dem begge i overlegen taushet. Til slutt gjorde Stapleton helt om og vinket på en bydende måte til sin søster, som etter et rådvilt blikk på sir Henry fulgte med broren. Naturforskerens hissige bevegelser viste at hans harme også gikk ut over henne. Sir Henry stod et øyeblikk og så etter dem. Derpå gikk han langsomt tilbake med bøyd hode, et tegn på den største nedslagenhet.
Our friend, Sir Henry, and the lady had halted on the path and were standing deeply absorbed in their conversation, when I was suddenly aware that I was not the only witness of their interview. A wisp of green floating in the air caught my eye, and another glance showed me that it was carried on a stick by a man who was moving among the broken ground. It was Stapleton with his butterfly-net. He was very much closer to the pair than I was, and he appeared to be moving in their direction. At this instant Sir Henry suddenly drew Miss Stapleton to his side. His arm was round her, but it seemed to me that she was straining away from him with her face averted. He stooped his head to hers, and she raised one hand as if in protest. Next moment I saw them spring apart and turn hurriedly round. Stapleton was the cause of the interruption. He was running wildly towards them, his absurd net dangling behind him. He gesticulated and almost danced with excitement in front of the lovers. What the scene meant I could not imagine, but it seemed to me that Stapleton was abusing Sir Henry, who offered explanations, which became more angry as the other refused to accept them. The lady stood by in haughty silence. Finally Stapleton turned upon his heel and beckoned in a peremptory way to his sister, who, after an irresolute glance at Sir Henry, walked off by the side of her brother. The naturalist's angry gestures showed that the lady was included in his displeasure. The baronet stood for a minute looking after them, and then he walked slowly back the way that he had come, his head hanging, the very picture of dejection.
Jeg kunne ikke forstå hva alt dette skulle bety, men jeg var meget skamfull over å ha vært vitne til et så intimt opptrinn uten min venns vitende. Jeg sprang derfor ned fra høyden og ilte sir Henry i møte nede ved foten av den. Ansiktet blusset av opphisselse, og brynene var rynket; han så ut som en som ikke vet sin arme råd over hva han skal gjøre.
What all this meant I could not imagine, but I was deeply ashamed to have witnessed so intimate a scene without my friend's knowledge. I ran down the hill therefore and met the baronet at the bottom. His face was flushed with anger and his brows were wrinkled, like one who is at his wit's ends what to do.
"Halloa, Watson! Where have you dropped from?" said he. "You don't mean to say that you came after me in spite of all?"
I explained everything to him: how I had found it impossible to remain behind, how I had followed him, and how I had witnessed all that had occurred. For an instant his eyes blazed at me, but my frankness disarmed his anger, and he broke at last into a rather rueful laugh.
"You would have thought the middle of that prairie a fairly safe place for a man to be private," said he, "but, by thunder, the whole country-side seems to have been out to see me do my wooing--and a mighty poor wooing at that! Where had you engaged a seat?"
“ Jeg stod oppe på høyden der. ”
"I was on that hill."
"Quite in the back row, eh? But her brother was well up to the front. Did you see him come out on us?"
“Ja.”
"Yes, I did."
"Did he ever strike you as being crazy--this brother of hers?"
"I can't say that he ever did."
“ Det tør jeg ikke si lenger. Jeg har alltid trodd at han var velbevart nok før idag, men nå kan jeg fortelle Dem at enten han eller jeg bør puttes i tvangstrøye. Hva går der av meg ? De har jo nå vært en tid sammen med meg, Watson. Si meg derfor likefrem: Er der noe som burde være i veien for at jeg kunne bli en god ektemann for en kvinne som jeg elsket ? ”
"I dare say not. I always thought him sane enough until to-day, but you can take it from me that either he or I ought to be in a strait-jacket. What's the matter with me, anyhow? You've lived near me for some weeks, Watson. Tell me straight, now! Is there anything that would prevent me from making a good husband to a woman that I loved?"
“ Nei, det skulle jeg mene. ”
"I should say not."
"He can't object to my worldly position, so it must be myself that he has this down on. What has he against me? I never hurt man or woman in my life that I know of. And yet he would not so much as let me touch the tips of her fingers."
“ Sa han det ? ”
"Did he say so?"
“ Det og mere til. Jeg kan si Dem, Watson, jeg har bare kjent henne disse få ukene, men fra første stund av følte jeg at hun var skapt for meg, og hun — ja, hun var også lykkelig, når vi var sammen, det er jeg aldeles overbevist om. Der kan være et uttrykk i en kvinnes øyne som taler tydeligere enn ord. Men han har aldri latt oss treffe hverandre, og først idag fant jeg en leilighet til å snakke et par ord med henne. Hun var glad over å kunne treffe meg, men hun kom ikke for å snakke om kjærlighet, og hun ville heller ikke ha tillatt meg å snakke om det hvis hun hadde kunnet forhindre det. Hun kom som alltid tilbake til at dette var et farlig sted, og at hun aldri ville bli lykkelig før jeg var kommet vekk herfra. Jeg sa til henne at siden jeg hadde truffet henne, hadde jeg ingen hast med å reise, og at hvis hun endelig ville ha meg bort, var den eneste måten å oppnå det på å reise med meg. Jeg ba om hennes hånd, men før hun fikk svare kom hennes bror styrtende over oss som en gal mann. Han var krithvit av raseri, og de lyse øynene skjøt lyn. Hva tillot jeg meg overfor den unge dame ? Hvordan kunne jeg våge å vise henne en oppmerksomhet som var henne i mot ? Trodde jeg kanskje at jeg kunne gjøre hva jeg ville fordi jeg var en adelsmann ? Hadde han ikke vært hennes bror skulle jeg ha forstått at svare ham bedre. Men nå, da han var det, sa jeg til ham at mine følelser overfor hans søster var av en slik art at jeg ikke skammet meg over dem, og at jeg håpet at hun ville vise meg den ære å bli min hustru ! Det gjorde åpenbart ikke saken bedre; jeg mistet selv tålmodigheten og svarte ham noe heftigere enn jeg kanskje burde ha gjort siden hun var til stede. Det endte til slutt med at han tok henne med seg og gikk, og her står nå jeg uten å vite hverken ut eller inn. Kan De si meg, Watson, hva alt dette skal bety, vil De gjøre meg en tjeneste som jeg aldri kan håpe å gjengjelde. ”
"That, and a deal more. I tell you, Watson, I've only known her these few weeks, but from the first I just felt that she was made for me, and she, too--she was happy when she was with me, and that I'll swear. There's a light in a woman's eyes that speaks louder than words. But he has never let us get together, and it was only to-day for the first time that I saw a chance of having a few words with her alone. She was glad to meet me, but when she did it was not love that she would talk about, and she wouldn't have let me talk about it either if she could have stopped it. She kept coming back to it that this was a place of danger, and that she would never be happy until I had left it. I told her that since I had seen her I was in no hurry to leave it, and that if she really wanted me to go, the only way to work it was for her to arrange to go with me. With that I offered in as many words to marry her, but before she could answer, down came this brother of hers, running at us with a face on him like a madman. He was just white with rage, and those light eyes of his were blazing with fury. What was I doing with the lady? How dared I offer her attentions which were distasteful to her? Did I think that because I was a baronet I could do what I liked? If he had not been her brother I should have known better how to answer him. As it was I told him that my feelings towards his sister were such as I was not ashamed of, and that I hoped that she might honour me by becoming my wife. That seemed to make the matter no better, so then I lost my temper too, and I answered him rather more hotly than I should perhaps, considering that she was standing by. So it ended by his going off with her, as you saw, and here am I as badly puzzled a man as any in this county. Just tell me what it all means, Watson, and I'll owe you more than ever I can hope to pay."
Jeg forsøkte et par forklaringer, men i virkeligheten var det hele meg en gåte. Vår venns sosiale stilling, hans formue, hans alder, hans karakter og hans utseende — alt til hans fordel, og jeg vet ikke om noe som taler mot ham, når man ser bort fra den uhyggelige skjebnen som forfølger slekten. At hans anholdelse om hennes hånd skulle bli avvist så barskt, uten hensyn til den unge damens eget ønske, og at hun bøyde seg for det uten protest, er høyst merkelig. Men alle våre gjetninger i denne henseende var unødige. Stapleton kom selv over på et besøk samme aften. Han kom for å gjøre sir Henry en unnskyldning for sin uhøflige opptreden om formiddagen, og hadde en lang samtale på tomannshånd med ham. Resultatet ble at de ble fullstendig forsonet, og at vi som en bekreftelse skal til middag i Merripit-gården neste fredag.
I tried one or two explanations, but, indeed, I was completely puzzled myself. Our friend's title, his fortune, his age, his character, and his appearance are all in his favour, and I know nothing against him unless it be this dark fate which runs in his family. That his advances should be rejected so brusquely without any reference to the lady's own wishes, and that the lady should accept the situation without protest, is very amazing. However, our conjectures were set at rest by a visit from Stapleton himself that very afternoon. He had come to offer apologies for his rudeness of the morning, and after a long private interview with Sir Henry in his study, the upshot of their conversation was that the breach is quite healed, and that we are to dine at Merripit House next Friday as a sign of it.
"I don't say now that he isn't a crazy man," said Sir Henry; "I can't forget the look in his eyes when he ran at me this morning, but I must allow that no man could make a more handsome apology than he has done."
“ Ga han noen forklaring på sin oppførsel ? ”
"Did he give any explanation of his conduct?"
“ Hans søster er hele hans liv, ” sier han. “ Det er naturlig nok, og jeg er glad for at han setter slik pris på henne. De har alltid vært sammen, og han har etter sin egen fortelling alltid vært en meget ensom mann uten annet selskap enn henne, så at han syntes det var forferdelig for ham å miste henne. Han hadde ikke forstått, sa han, at jeg hadde fattet hengivenhet for henne, men da han så med sine egne øyne at det virkelig var så, og at hun kunne bli tatt fra ham, var det et så hårdt slag for ham at han en stund ikke var herre over hva han sa eller gjorde. Han var meget bedrøvet over hva som var skjedd, og han erkjente hvor tåpelig og egenkjærlig det var av ham å tenke seg at han kunne beholde en så vakker kvinne som søsteren for seg selv hele livet. Når hun skulle forlate ham, så han heller at hun kom til en nabo som meg, enn til noen annen. Men under alle omstendigheter var det et hårdt slag for ham, og det ville ta noen tid før han kunne komme seg helt etter det. Han ville oppgi enhver motstand fra sin side hvis jeg ville love å la saken hvile i tre måneder og nøye meg med i mellomtiden å dyrke søsterens vennskap uten å kreve hennes kjærlighet. Det lovet jeg, og slik står altså saken nå. ”
"His sister is everything in his life, he says. That is natural enough, and I am glad that he should understand her value. They have always been together, and according to his account he has been a very lonely man with only her as a companion, so that the thought of losing her was really terrible to him. He had not understood, he said, that I was becoming attached to her, but when he saw with his own eyes that it was really so, and that she might be taken away from him, it gave him such a shock that for a time he was not responsible for what he said or did. He was very sorry for all that had passed, and he recognized how foolish and how selfish it was that he should imagine that he could hold a beautiful woman like his sister to himself for her whole life. If she had to leave him he had rather it was to a neighbour like myself than to anyone else. But in any case it was a blow to him, and it would take him some time before he could prepare himself to meet it. He would withdraw all opposition upon his part if I would promise for three months to let the matter rest and to be content with cultivating the lady's friendship during that time without claiming her love. This I promised, and so the matter rests."
En av våre små hemmeligheter er altså nå oppklart. Det er i alle fall noe å være kommet til bunns et sted i denne myren som vi hittil har vasset rundt i. Vi vet nå hvorfor Stapleton så med misbilligelse på sin søsters beiler, selv når beileren var en så attråverdig mann som sir Henry, og dermed går jeg over til en annen tråd som jeg har trukket ut av floken, den gåtefulle hulken om natten, fru Barrymores forgråtte ansikt og Barrymores hemmelige vandring til vinduet mot vest. Ønsk meg til lykke, kjære Holmes, og si at jeg ikke har skuffet Dem som Deres utsending, at De ikke angrer tilliten De viste meg da De sendte meg hit. Alt dette er blitt oppklart ved en natts arbeide. Jeg sier “ ved en natts arbeide ”, men i virkeligheten var det ved to netters arbeide, for den første ble helt spilt. Jeg satt oppe sammen med sir Henry på hans værelse nesten helt til klokken tre om morgenen, men vi hørte ingen lyder av noen slags.
So there is one of our small mysteries cleared up. It is something to have touched bottom anywhere in this bog in which we are floundering. We know now why Stapleton looked with disfavour upon his sister's suitor--even when that suitor was so eligible a one as Sir Henry. And now I pass on to another thread which I have extricated out of the tangled skein, the mystery of the sobs in the night, of the tear-stained face of Mrs. Barrymore, of the secret journey of the butler to the western lattice window. Congratulate me, my dear Holmes, and tell me that I have not disappointed you as an agent--that you do not regret the confidence which you showed in me when you sent me down. All these things have by one night's work been thoroughly cleared.
Det var en høyst kjedsommelig tørn, og det endte med at vi begge to sovnet i stolen. Heldigvis tapte vi ikke motet av den grunn, men besluttet å gjøre et nytt forsøk. Neste natt skrudde vi lampen ned og satt og røkte sigaretter. Vi var så stille som mulig. Det var utrolig hvor langsomt timene snek seg frem, men vi holdt ut med den samme tålmodige interesse som jegeren betrakter fellen som han håper at byttet må gå i. Klokken ble ett, og den ble to. Vi hadde nær for annen gang gitt opp i fortvilelse, da vi plutselig begge satte oss oppreist i stolene med alle sanser skarpt spent. Vi hadde hørt lyden av skritt utenfor. Vi hørte noen liste seg varsomt forbi, inntil lyden døde bort i det fjerne. Sir Henry åpnet forsiktig døren, og vi fulgte etter. Vår mann var allerede kommet rundt galleriet, og gangen lå i fullstendig mørke. Vi stjal oss forsiktig fremover. Vi kom nettopp i rette tid til å få et glimt av den høye skikkelsen med det sorte skjegget og de runde skuldrene som listet seg på tåspissene ned gjennom gangen.
I have said "by one night's work," but, in truth, it was by two nights' work, for on the first we drew entirely blank. I sat up with Sir Henry in his rooms until nearly three o'clock in the morning, but no sound of any sort did we hear except the chiming clock upon the stairs. It was a most melancholy vigil, and ended by each of us falling asleep in our chairs. Fortunately we were not discouraged, and we determined to try again. The next night we lowered the lamp, and sat smoking cigarettes without making the least sound. It was incredible how slowly the hours crawled by, and yet we were helped through it by the same sort of patient interest which the hunter must feel as he watches the trap into which he hopes the game may wander. One struck, and two, and we had almost for the second time given it up in despair, when in an instant we both sat bolt upright in our chairs, with all our weary senses keenly on the alert once more. We had heard the creak of a step in the passage.
Han gikk inn av den samme døren som forleden. Dørkarmen tegnet seg skarpt i skinnet fra lyset, mens en gul lysbølge skjøt seg tvers igjennom det dype mørke i gangen. Vi nærmet oss så forsiktig som mulig, i det vi følte oss for med foten for hvert skritt, før vi våget å trede på gulvet med hele vår vekt. Vi hadde vært så forsiktige å trekke støvlene av oss, men det knirket og knaket allikevel i de gamle plankene for hvert skritt. Undertiden forekom det oss umulig at han ikke skulle høre oss komme. Men heldigvis er han nesten døv, og nå var han helt opptatt av hva han hadde fore. Da vi til slutt var kommet hen til døren og kikket inn gjennom den, fant vi ham sammenhuket foran vinduet med lyset i den ene hånden; det hvite, spente ansikt var presset mot ruten, aldeles som jeg hadde sett ham for to netter siden.
Very stealthily we heard it pass along until it died away in the distance. Then the baronet gently opened his door and we set out in pursuit. Already our man had gone round the gallery, and the corridor was all in darkness. Softly we stole along until we had come into the other wing. We were just in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded, as he tip-toed down the passage. Then he passed through the same door as before, and the light of the candle framed it in the darkness and shot one single yellow beam across the gloom of the corridor. We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank before we dared to put our whole weight upon it. We had taken the precaution of leaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the old boards snapped and creaked beneath our tread. Sometimes it seemed impossible that he should fail to hear our approach. However, the man is fortunately rather deaf, and he was entirely preoccupied in that which he was doing. When at last we reached the door and peeped through we found him crouching at the window, candle in hand, his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly as I had seen him two nights before.
Vi hadde ikke lagt noen felttogsplan, men sir Henry er en mann for hvem den like vei alltid faller naturligst. Han gikk derfor rett inn i værelset. Barrymore sprang opp med et tungt stønn og stod skjelvende og ganske gråblek i ansiktet foran oss. Hans mørke øyne lyste i det hvite ansikt og stirret fulle av redsel og forbauselse fra den ene til den annen.
We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is a man to whom the most direct way is always the most natural. He walked into the room, and as he did so Barrymore sprang up from the window with a sharp hiss of his breath and stood, livid and trembling, before us. His dark eyes, glaring out of the white mask of his face, were full of horror and astonishment as he gazed from Sir Henry to me.
“ Hva gjør De her, Barrymore ? ”
"What are you doing here, Barrymore?"
"Nothing, sir." His agitation was so great that he could hardly speak, and the shadows sprang up and down from the shaking of his candle. "It was the window, sir. I go round at night to see that they are fastened."
“Også i tredje etasje?”
"On the second floor?"
"Yes, sir, all the windows."
"Look here, Barrymore," said Sir Henry, sternly; "we have made up our minds to have the truth out of you, so it will save you trouble to tell it sooner rather than later. Come, now! No lies! What were you doing at that window?"
The fellow looked at us in a helpless way, and he wrung his hands together like one who is in the last extremity of doubt and misery.
"I was doing no harm, sir. I was holding a candle to the window."
“ Og hvorfor gjorde De det ? ”
"And why were you holding a candle to the window?"
"Don't ask me, Sir Henry--don't ask me! I give you my word, sir, that it is not my secret, and that I cannot tell it. If it concerned no one but myself I would not try to keep it from you."
A sudden idea occurred to me, and I took the candle from the trembling hand of the butler.
“ Han må ha brukt det som et signal, ” sa jeg. “ La oss se om det kommer noe svar. ” Jeg holdt lyset på samme måten som han hadde gjort, og stirret ut i den mørke natten. Jeg kunne svakt skimte de sorte gruppene med trær og moens lysere flate. Månen var nemlig dekket av skyene. Jeg utstøtte uvilkårlig et triumferende rop; et svakt, gult lys brøt plutselig gjennom det mørke sløret, og gløden tegnet seg skarpt midt i vinduets sorte ramme.
"He must have been holding it as a signal," said I. "Let us see if there is any answer." I held it as he had done, and stared out into the darkness of the night. Vaguely I could discern the black bank of the trees and the lighter expanse of the moor, for the moon was behind the clouds. And then I gave a cry of exultation, for a tiny pin-point of yellow light had suddenly transfixed the dark veil, and glowed steadily in the centre of the black square framed by the window.
"There it is!" I cried.
"No, no, sir, it is nothing--nothing at all!" the butler broke in; "I assure you, sir ----"
"Move your light across the window, Watson!" cried the baronet. "See, the other moves also! Now, you rascal, do you deny that it is a signal? Come, speak up! Who is your confederate out yonder, and what is this conspiracy that is going on?"
Mannens ansikt antok plutselig et utfordrende uttrykk.
The man's face became openly defiant.
"It is my business, and not yours. I will not tell."
“ Nåvel, så forlater De min tjeneste øyeblikkelig. ”
"Then you leave my employment right away."
"Very good, sir. If I must I must."
"And you go in disgrace. By thunder, you may well be ashamed of yourself. Your family has lived with mine for over a hundred years under this roof, and here I find you deep in some dark plot against me."
"No, no, sir; no, not against you!" It was a woman's voice, and Mrs. Barrymore, paler and more horror-struck than her husband, was standing at the door. Her bulky figure in a shawl and skirt might have been comic were it not for the intensity of feeling upon her face.
"We have to go, Eliza. This is the end of it. You can pack our things," said the butler.
"Oh, John, John, have I brought you to this? It is my doing, Sir Henry--all mine. He has done nothing except for my sake and because I asked him."
"Speak out, then! What does it mean?"
"My unhappy brother is starving on the moor. We cannot let him perish at our very gates. The light is a signal to him that food is ready for him, and his light out yonder is to show the spot to which to bring it."
“ Deres bror er altså — ? ”
"Then your brother is --"
"The escaped convict, sir--Selden, the criminal."
"That's the truth, sir," said Barrymore. "I said that it was not my secret and that I could not tell it to you. But now you have heard it, and you will see that if there was a plot it was not against you."
This, then, was the explanation of the stealthy expeditions at night and the light at the window. Sir Henry and I both stared at the woman in amazement. Was it possible that this stolidly respectable person was of the same blood as one of the most notorious criminals in the country?
“ Ja sir Henry, mitt pikenavn var Selden, og han er en yngre bror av meg. Vi skjemte ham rent bort da han var gutt, og lot ham få sin egen vilje i alt så han til slutt kom til å tenke at verden var innrettet bare for hans fornøyelse, og at han kunne gjøre hva han ville. Da han ble eldre, kom han i dårlig selskap, og djevelen fikk mere og mere makten over ham, inntil han til slutt knuste min mors hjerte og dro skjensel over vårt navn. Fra forbrytelse til forbrytelse sank han lavere og lavere, og det er alene Guds barmhjertighet som har reddet ham fra skafottet. For meg har han alltid fortsatt å være den lille krølltoppen som jeg hadde passet og lekt med som eldre søster. Han brøt ut av fengselet fordi han visste at jeg var her og ikke ville nekte å hjelpe ham. Så kom han hit en natt, utslitt og halvdød av sult, og med politiet i hælene. Hva kunne vi gjøre ? Vi tok i mot ham, ga ham mat og sørget for ham. Så kom De tilbake, sir Henry. Min bror trodde da at han ville være sikrere ute på moen enn noe andet sted, inntil det første oppstyret etter rømningen var over. Han skjulte seg derfor der ute. Men annenhver natt forvisset vi oss om at han fremdeles var der ved å sette et lys i vinduet, og når vi fikk svar, gikk min mann ut til ham med noe brød og kjøtt. Hver dag håpet vi at han skulle være tatt bort, men så lenge han var her, kunne vi ikke svikte ham. Det er hele sannheten, såsant jeg er en ærlig kristen kone, og hvis det er noen å lastes, er skylden ikke min manns, men min, som han har gjort alt dette for. ”
"Yes, sir, my name was Selden, and he is my younger brother. We humoured him too much when he was a lad, and gave him his own way in everything until he came to think that the world was made for his pleasure, and that he could do what he liked in it. Then as he grew older he met wicked companions, and the devil entered into him until he broke my mother's heart and dragged our name in the dirt. From crime to crime he sank lower and lower, until it is only the mercy of God which has snatched him from the scaffold; but to me, sir, he was always the little curly-headed boy that I had nursed and played with, as an elder sister would. That was why he broke prison, sir. He knew that I was here and that we could not refuse to help him. When he dragged himself here one night, weary and starving, with the warders hard at his heels, what could we do? We took him in and fed him and cared for him. Then you returned, sir, and my brother thought he would be safer on the moor than anywhere else until the hue and cry was over, so he lay in hiding there. But every second night we made sure if he was still there by putting a light in the window, and if there was an answer my husband took out some bread and meat to him. Every day we hoped that he was gone, but as long as he was there we could not desert him. That is the whole truth, as I am an honest Christian woman, and you will see that if there is blame in the matter it does not lie with my husband, but with me, for whose sake he has done all that he has."
The woman's words came with an intense earnestness which carried conviction with them.
“ Er dette sant, Barrymore ? ”
"Is this true, Barrymore?"
"Yes, Sir Henry. Every word of it."
"Well, I cannot blame you for standing by your own wife. Forget what I have said. Go to your room, you two, and we shall talk further about this matter in the morning."
When they were gone we looked out of the window again. Sir Henry had flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in upon our faces. Far away in the black distance there still glowed that one tiny point of yellow light.
"I wonder he dares," said Sir Henry.
"It may be so placed as to be only visible from here."
"Very likely. How far do you think it is?"
"Out by the Cleft Tor, I think."
“Altså ikke mere enn en kilometer eller to herfra.”
"Not more than a mile or two off."
“Nei, neppe det en gang.”
"Hardly that."
"Well, it cannot be far if Barrymore had to carry out the food to it. And he is waiting, this villain, beside that candle. By thunder, Watson, I am going out to take that man!"
Den samme tanken hadde falt meg inn. Det var ikke som om Barrymores hadde gjort oss til delaktige i sin fortrolighet. Deres hemmelighet var fravristet dem. Mannen var en fare for samfunnet, en forvorpen skurk, som det ikke var noen unnskyldning for eller kunne kreves noen skånsomhet over. Vi ville bare gjøre vår plikt når vi benyttet denne anledningen til å bringe ham tilbake til et sted hvor han ikke kunne gjøre noen mere skade. Med hans brutale og voldsomme natur ville andre komme til å ungjelde hvis vi nå holdt oss tilbake. Våre naboer, Stapletons, kunne jo, hvilken natt det var, bli overfalt av ham. Sannsynligvis var det også tanken på det som gjorde sir Henry så ivrig på eventyret.
The same thought had crossed my own mind. It was not as if the Barrymores had taken us into their confidence. Their secret had been forced from them. The man was a danger to the community, an unmitigated scoundrel for whom there was neither pity nor excuse. We were only doing our duty in taking this chance of putting him back where he could do no harm. With his brutal and violent nature, others would have to pay the price if we held our hands. Any night, for example, our neighbours the Stapletons might be attacked by him, and it may have been the thought of this which made Sir Henry so keen upon the adventure.
"I will come," said I.
"Then get your revolver and put on your boots. The sooner we start the better, as the fellow may put out his light and be off."
Fem minutter etter var vi utenfor og bega oss avsted på vår ekspedisjon. Vi stormet gjennom det mørke buskaset hvor man kun hørte høstvindens tunge klage og de fallende bladenes rasling. Natteluften var tung av en fuktig, råtten stank. Av og til dukket månen frem et øyeblikk; men tette skybanker drev over himmelen, og da vi kom ut på moen, begynte det å regne lett. Lyset brente fremdeles rolig foran oss.
In five minutes we were outside the door, starting upon our expedition. We hurried through the dark shrubbery, amid the dull moaning of the autumn wind and the rustle of the falling leaves. The night air was heavy with the smell of damp and decay. Now and again the moon peeped out for an instant, but clouds were driving over the face of the sky, and just as we came out on the moor a thin rain began to fall. The light still burned steadily in front.
"Are you armed?" I asked.
“ Jeg har en revolver. ”
"I have a hunting-crop."
"We must close in on him rapidly, for he is said to be a desperate fellow. We shall take him by surprise and have him at our mercy before he can resist."
"I say, Watson," said the baronet, "what would Holmes say to this? How about that hour of darkness in which the power of evil is exalted?"
Som til svar på ordene lød plutselig ute fra den veldige moens uhyggelige øde det selsomme hylet som jeg allerede hadde hørt ved bredden av den store Grimpenmyren. Det ble båret av vinden gjennom nattestillheten, — en lang, dyp lyd, som steg til et hyl for å dø hen som en uhyggelig klage. Igjen og igjen lød det, og fylte hele luften med sin gjennomtrengende, ville trussel. Sir Henry grep meg i armen, og ansiktet lyste hvitt gjennom mørket.
As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vast gloom of the moor that strange cry which I had already heard upon the borders of the great Grimpen Mire. It came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild, and menacing. The baronet caught my sleeve and his face glimmered white through the darkness.
"My God, what's that, Watson?"
"I don't know. It's a sound they have on the moor. I heard it once before."
It died away, and an absolute silence closed in upon us. We stood straining our ears, but nothing came.
"Watson," said the baronet, "it was the cry of a hound."
My blood ran cold in my veins, for there was a break in his voice which told of the sudden horror which had seized him.
"What do they call this sound?" he asked.
“Hvem?”
"Who?"
“Folk omkring her.”
"The folk on the country-side."
“ Å, de er ytterst uvitende. Hva kan det interessere Dem å vite hva folk kaller den ? ”
"Oh, they are ignorant people. Why should you mind what they call it?"
"Tell me, Watson. What do they say of it?"
I hesitated but could not escape the question.
"They say it is the cry of the Hound of the Baskervilles."
He groaned and was silent for a few moments.
"A hound it was," he said, at last, "but it seemed to come from miles away, over yonder, I think."
"It was hard to say whence it came."
"It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't that the direction of the great Grimpen Mire?"
“ Jo, den er. ”
"Yes, it is."
"Well, it was up there. Come now, Watson, didn't you think yourself that it was the cry of a hound? I am not a child. You need not fear to speak the truth."
"Stapleton was with me when I heard it last. He said that it might be the calling of a strange bird."
"No, no, it was a hound. My God, can there be some truth in all these stories? Is it possible that I am really in danger from so dark a cause? You don't believe it, do you, Watson?"
“Nei, nei!”
"No, no."
“ Det var lett å le av det i London, men det er noe annet å stå her i mørke natten på moen og høre en slik lyd som denne. Og min onkel ! Det var jo spor etter en hund ved siden av ham, der han ble funnet. Alt stemmer. Jeg tror ikke jeg er noen kujon, Watson, men denne lyden fikk blodet til å isne. Føl hvor iskald hånden min er. ”
"And yet it was one thing to laugh about it in London, and it is another to stand out here in the darkness of the moor and to hear such a cry as that. And my uncle! There was the footprint of the hound beside him as he lay. It all fits together. I don't think that I am a coward, Watson, but that sound seemed to freeze my very blood. Feel my hand!"
It was as cold as a block of marble.
"You'll be all right to-morrow."
"I don't think I'll get that cry out of my head. What do you advise that we do now?"
"Shall we turn back?"
"No, by thunder; we have come out to get our man, and we will do it. We after the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely as not, after us. Come on! We'll see it through if all the fiends of the pit were loose upon the moor."
Vi famlet oss langsomt frem i mørket, mens de taggete høydedragene fortonet seg svakt rundt omkring oss, og det smale, gule lyset fortsatte å brenne der fremme. Der er ikke noe som kan være mere skuffende enn avstanden fra et lys i en belgmørk natt; undertiden syntes lysskinnet å være langt borte i synskretsen, og undertiden så det ut som om det bare var noen skritt fra oss. Men til slutt kunne vi hvor det kom fra, og da skjønte vi at vi virkelig var meget nær det. Lyset var anbrakt i en sprekk i bergveggen som dekket det på begge sider, slik at det var beskyttet mot vinden, og hindret det fra å bli sett fra noen annen kant enn den hvor Baskerville herregård lå. En svær granitbtlokk skjulte oss da vi nærmet oss. Vi krøp bak den og iakttok herfra lyset. Det gjorde et selsomt inntrykk å se dette ene lyset brenne her midt ute på moen, mens det ikke kunne oppdages noe spor av liv i nærheten av det. Det eneste som kunne sees var bare denne rette, gule flammen, og skinnet fra den på bergveggen på begge sider.
We stumbled slowly along in the darkness, with the black loom of the craggy hills around us, and the yellow speck of light burning steadily in front. There is nothing so deceptive as the distance of a light upon a pitch-dark night, and sometimes the glimmer seemed to be far away upon the horizon and sometimes it might have been within a few yards of us. But at last we could see whence it came, and then we knew that we were indeed very close. A guttering candle was stuck in a crevice of the rocks which flanked it on each side so as to keep the wind from it and also to prevent it from being visible, save in the direction of Baskerville Hall. A boulder of granite concealed our approach, and crouching behind it we gazed over it at the signal light. It was strange to see this single candle burning there in the middle of the moor, with no sign of life near it--just the one straight yellow flame and the gleam of the rock on each side of it.
"What shall we do now?" whispered Sir Henry.
"Wait here. He must be near his light. Let us see if we can get a glimpse of him."
Jeg hadde ikke uttalt disse ordene før vi begge så ham. Over den bergveggen hvor lyset brente i en sprekk, tegnet seg plutselig et ondt, voksgult ansikt, et skrekkelig, dyrisk ansikt med alle merker av de verste lidenskaper. Uvasket og skitten med stivt, strittende skjegg og med langt, pjusket hår kunne det godt ha tilhørt et av disse gamle villmenneskene som en gang bodde i steinhyttene her. Lyset nedenunder ga gjenskinn i de små, forslagne øyne, som stirret vilt til høyre og venstre gjennom mørket, og han minnet fullstendig om et lurende vilt dyr som har hørt jegerens skritt.
The words were hardly out of my mouth when we both saw him. Over the rocks, in the crevice of which the candle burned, there was thrust out an evil yellow face, a terrible animal face, all seamed and scored with vile passions. Foul with mire, with a bristling beard, and hung with matted hair, it might well have belonged to one of those old savages who dwelt in the burrows on the hillsides. The light beneath him was reflected in his small, cunning eyes which peered fiercely to right and left through the darkness, like a crafty and savage animal who has heard the steps of the hunters.
Hans mistanke var åpenbart vakt ved en eller annen ting. Barrymore hadde muligens et privat signal som vi ikke hadde gitt, eller mannen må ha hatt en annen grunn til å tro at ikke alt var som det burde være. Jeg kunne lese redselen i hans skurkefjes. Hvert øyeblikk kunne han slukke lyset ut og forsvinne i mørket. Jeg sprang derfor øyeblikkelig frem og sir Henry fulgte etter. I samme øyeblikk utstøtte fangen en ed og veltet ned en svær stein som knustes mot granittblokken som hadde dekket oss. Jeg fikk et glimt av hans korte, undersetsige, sterkbyggede skikkelse da han sprang opp og tok flukten. Ved et heldig sammentreff brøt månen i samme øyeblikk gjennom skyene. Vi ilte opp på toppen av bakkeskrenten og så derfra fangen storme av alle livsens krefter nedover den andre siden, hoppende over steinene i hans vei med en gemses letthet. Et heldig skudd av min revolver kunne ha stanset ham, men jeg hadde kun medbrakt den for å forsvare meg selv hvis jeg ble angrepet, og ikke for å skyte en flyktende, ubevæpnet mann.
Something had evidently aroused his suspicions. It may have been that Barrymore had some private signal which we had neglected to give, or the fellow may have had some other reason for thinking that all was not well, but I could read his fears upon his wicked face. Any instant he might dash out the light and vanish in the darkness. I sprang forward therefore, and Sir Henry did the same. At the same moment the convict screamed out a curse at us and hurled a rock which splintered up against the boulder which had sheltered us. I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, strongly- built figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run. At the same moment by a lucky chance the moon broke through the clouds. We rushed over the brow of the hill, and there was our man running with great speed down the other side, springing over the stones in his way with the activity of a mountain goat. A lucky long shot of my revolver might have crippled him, but I had brought it only to defend myself if attacked, and not to shoot an unarmed man who was running away.
Vi var begge utmerkede løpere og i god form, men vi innså snart at vi hadde ingen utsikt til å innhente ham. En lang tid kunne vi følge ham i måneskinnet, inntil han kun ble som en liten flekk som beveget seg raskt mellom steinblokkene på en fjern bergskråning. Vi sprang og sprang, inntil vi var fullstendig utmaset, men avstanden mellom oss og ham ble stadig større og større. Endelig stanset vi, og satte oss andpustne på to store steiner mens vi så ham forsvinne i det fjerne. Imidlertid inntraff en høyst merkelig og uventet ting.
We were both swift runners and in fairly good training, but we soon found that we had no chance of overtaking him. We saw him for a long time in the moonlight until he was only a small speck moving swiftly among the boulders upon the side of a distant hill. We ran and ran until we were completely blown, but the space between us grew ever wider. Finally we stopped and sat panting on two rocks, while we watched him disappearing in the distance.
Vi hadde reist oss og skulle gå hjem, da vi fant ut vi måtte oppgi den håpløse jakten. Månen kunne ses lavt nede til høyre, og mot dens sølvrand tegnet skikkelsen av en mann seg skarpt. Jeg så den tydelig, som en sort elfenbensstatue på klippekammen. De må ikke tro det var noen feiltagelse, Holmes. Jeg kan forsikre Dem, at jeg aldri i mitt liv har sett noe tydeligere. Såvidt jeg kunne se, var det en høy, tynn mann. Han stod med benene litt fra hverandre, armene overkors og hodet bøyet, som om han var hensunket i betraktninger over det veldige øde av myr og stein, som lå utbredt foran ham. Det må ha vært dette skrekkelige stedets egen ånd. Det var ikke fangen. Denne mannen befant seg langt fra stedet hvor den andre var forsvunnet. Det var også en meget høyere mann. Med et overrasket utbrudd ville jeg vise sir Henry ham, men i det samme jeg skulle gripe hans arm, var skikkelsen forsvunnet. Klippekammens øvre del avskar fremdeles den nedre del av månen, men på toppen var ikke mere noe spor etter den tause, ubevegelige skikkelsen.
And it was at this moment that there occurred a most strange and unexpected thing. We had risen from our rocks and were turning to go home, having abandoned the hopeless chase. The moon was low upon the right, and the jagged pinnacle of a granite tor stood up against the lower curve of its silver disc. There, outlined as black as an ebony statue on that shining back-ground, I saw the figure of a man upon the tor. Do not think that it was a delusion, Holmes. I assure you that I have never in my life seen anything more clearly. As far as I could judge, the figure was that of a tall, thin man. He stood with his legs a little separated, his arms folded, his head bowed, as if he were brooding over that enormous wilderness of peat and granite which lay before him. He might have been the very spirit of that terrible place. It was not the convict. This man was far from the place where the latter had disappeared. Besides, he was a much taller man. With a cry of surprise I pointed him out to the baronet, but in the instant during which I had turned to grasp his arm the man was gone. There was the sharp pinnacle of granite still cutting the lower edge of the moon, but its peak bore no trace of that silent and motionless figure.
Jeg ønsket å gå dit hen og undersøke saken nærmere, men det var et godt stykke borte. Sir Henrys nerver dirret ennå etter det uhyggelige hylet, som hadde gjenkalt erindringen om det uheldsvangre slektssagnet, og han var ikke opplagt til nye eventyr. Han hadde ikke sett den ensomme skikkelsen, og hadde ikke den samme uhyggelige fornemmelsen som dens selsomme utseende og bydende holdning hadde fylt meg med. “ Det var naturligvis en politimann, ” sa han. “ Det har jo vært fullt opp av dem på moen her siden fangen rømte. ” Hans forklaring kan muligens være riktig, men jeg skulle helst se den bedre bestyrket. I dag akter vi å si ifra til beboerne i Princetown hvor de bør søke etter deres forsvundne mann, men det er ikke lett å forsone seg med at vi ikke allerede har brakt ham med som vår fange. Her har De den siste natts hendelser, og De må innrømme, kjære Holmes, at jeg holder Dem godt underrettet. Meget av hva jeg forteller, er naturligvis ganske likegyldig, men jeg føler dog det er sikrest å meddele Dem alt, så får De selv velge hva De best kan bruke. Vi gjør visstnok noe fremgang. Hva Barrymores angår, har vi nå brakt på det rene hva årsakene har vært til deres påfallende opptreden. Det har kastet adskillig lys over situasjonen. Det er moen med dens hemmeligheter og selsomme innvånere som er og blir like uutgrunnelig som før. Kanskje vil jeg i mitt neste brev også kunne kaste noe mer lys over det. Best av alt ville det dog være om De selv kunne komme ned her.
I wished to go in that direction and to search the tor, but it was some distance away. The baronet's nerves were still quivering from that cry, which recalled the dark story of his family, and he was not in the mood for fresh adventures. He had not seen this lonely man upon the tor and could not feel the thrill which his strange presence and his commanding attitude had given to me. "A warder, no doubt," said he. "The moor has been thick with them since this fellow escaped." Well, perhaps his explanation may be the right one, but I should like to have some further proof of it. To-day we mean to communicate to the Princetown people where they should look for their missing man, but it is hard lines that we have not actually had the triumph of bringing him back as our own prisoner. Such are the adventures of last night, and you must acknowledge, my dear Holmes, that I have done you very well in the matter of a report. Much of what I tell you is no doubt quite irrelevant, but still I feel that it is best that I should let you have all the facts and leave you to select for yourself those which will be of most service to you in helping you to your conclusions. We are certainly making some progress. So far as the Barrymores go we have found the motive of their actions, and that has cleared up the situation very much. But the moor with its mysteries and its strange inhabitants remains as inscrutable as ever. Perhaps in my next I may be able to throw some light upon this also. Best of all would it be if you could come down to us. In any case you will hear from me again in the course of the next few days.
Tiende kapitel. Utdrag av doktor Watsons dagbok
Chapter 10 Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson
HITTIL har jeg kunnet gjengi våre opplevelser etter innberetningene som jeg den første tiden sendte Sherlock Holmes. Men nå er jeg kommet til et punkt i fortellingen hvor jeg må oppgi denne fremgangsmåten, og atter stole mere på min hukommelse. Heldigvis vil dog den dagboken som jeg dengang førte, yte meg litt støtte. Et par utdrag av den vil nå føre meg frem til en rekke opptrinn som i sine minste enkeltheter står uutslettelig festet i min erindring. Jeg fortsetter nå fra morgenen etter vår uheldige jakt på den rømte fangen og våre merkelige opplevelser på moen.
So far I have been able to quote from the reports which I have forwarded during these early days to Sherlock Holmes. Now, however, I have arrived at a point in my narrative where I am compelled to abandon this method and to trust once more to my recollections, aided by the diary which I kept at the time. A few extracts from the latter will carry me on to those scenes which are indelibly fixed in every detail upon my memory. I proceed, then, from the morning which followed our abortive chase of the convict and our other strange experiences upon the moor.
16de oktober: En uhyggelig, tåkefull dag med silregn. Huset er innhyllet i bølgende tåkemasser som av og til letter og viser moens golde omriss med tynne sølvårer nedover høydedragenes sider og de fjerne steinblokker som blinker når lyset faller på deres våte overflate. Det er trist både inne og ute. Sir Henry har fått et mørkt tilbakefall etter nattens opphisselser. Selv føler jeg det som om det hvilte en tung byrde på mitt hjerte, og jeg har en fornemmelse av en stadig truende fare, som er dessto frykteligere fordi jeg ikke kan gjøre rede for meg selv hva den består i.
OCTOBER 16TH.--A dull and foggy day with a drizzle of rain. The house is banked in with rolling clouds, which rise now and then to show the dreary curves of the moor, with thin, silver veins upon the sides of the hills, and the distant boulders gleaming where the light strikes upon their wet faces. It is melancholy outside and in. The baronet is in a black reaction after the excitements of the night. I am conscious myself of a weight at my heart and a feeling of impending danger--ever present danger, which is the more terrible because I am unable to define it.
Og skulle det ikke være grunn til å ha en slik følelse når jeg tenker på den lange rekken av hendelser som alle har tydet på at en eller annen uhyggelig makt driver sitt spill omkring oss. Først har vi den eldre Baskervilles død, om hvem slektssagnet så nøyaktig gikk i oppfyllelse, og så har vi bøndenes fortellinger om det selsomme vesenet som stadig viser seg på moen. Jeg har med egne ører hørt en lyd som lignet en hunds uling i det fjerne. Det er utrolig, umulig, at det skulle kunne være noe som helst overnaturlig. En overnaturlig hund som etterlater virkelige fotspor og fyller luften med sine hyl er utenkelig. Stapleton kan henfalle til en slik overtro. Mortimer likeså. Men hvis jeg overhodet har noe, er det sunn sans, og intet kan få meg til å tro noe slikt. Skulle jeg det, måtte jeg stille meg selv i klasse med disse stakkars bøndene, som ikke kan nøye seg bare med en sint hund, men også må utstyre den med gloende helvedesild lysende ut av munn og øyne. Holmes ville ikke høre på slike fantasterier, og jeg er hans medarbeider. Men kjennsgjerninger er kjennsgjerninger, og jeg har to ganger hørt denne lyden på moen. Det kunne jo tenkes at det gikk en svær hund løs der ute; det ville nesten kunne forklare alt. Men hvor skulle den ligge skjult henne, hvor fikk den maten fra, hvor kunne den komme fra, og hva kom det av at aldri noen så den om dagen ? Man må innrømme at en naturlig forklaring frembød nesten like så mange vanskeligheter som den andre. Og bortsett fra hunden har vi spionen i London, mannen i vognen, og brevet, hvor sir Henry ble advart mot moen. Dette var i alle fall virkelig, men det kunne jo likes å godt være sendt av en venn som av en fiende. Hvor var den vennen eller fienden nå ? Var han fremdeles i London, eller hadde han fulgt oss hit ? Kunne han — kunne han være den fremmede, som jeg hadde sett på klippekammen ?
And have I not cause for such a feeling? Consider the long sequence of incidents which have all pointed to some sinister influence which is at work around us. There is the death of the last occupant of the Hall, fulfilling so exactly the conditions of the family legend, and there are the repeated reports from peasants of the appearance of a strange creature upon the moor. Twice I have with my own ears heard the sound which resembled the distant baying of a hound. It is incredible, impossible, that it should really be outside the ordinary laws of nature. A spectral hound which leaves material footmarks and fills the air with its howling is surely not to be thought of. Stapleton may fall in with such a superstition, and Mortimer also; but if I have one quality upon earth it is common-sense, and nothing will persuade me to believe in such a thing. To do so would be to descend to the level of these poor peasants, who are not content with a mere fiend dog but must needs describe him with hell-fire shooting from his mouth and eyes. Holmes would not listen to such fancies, and I am his agent. But facts are facts, and I have twice heard this crying upon the moor. Suppose that there were really some huge hound loose upon it; that would go far to explain everything. But where could such a hound lie concealed, where did it get its food, where did it come from, how was it that no one saw it by day? It must be confessed that the natural explanation offers almost as many difficulties as the other. And always, apart from the hound, there is the fact of the human agency in London, the man in the cab, and the letter which warned Sir Henry against the moor. This at least was real, but it might have been the work of a protecting friend as easily as of an enemy. Where is that friend or enemy now? Has he remained in London, or has he followed us down here? Could he--could he be the stranger whom I saw upon the tor?
Jeg har visstnok bare sett dette ene glimtet av ham, men jeg skulle gjerne sverge på at det ikke var noen av dem jeg har sett i omegnen her. Skikkelsen var meget høyere enn Stapleton og meget tynnere enn Frankland. Det kunne muligens ha vært Barrymore, men ham hadde vi forlatt hjemme på Baskerville herregård, og jeg er sikker på at han ikke hadde kunnet følge etter oss. En fremmed lurer altså etter oss her som i London. Vi har ikke kunnet bli kvitt ham. Kunne jeg bare få tak i den mannen, ville vi sikkerlig se alle vanskeligheter løst. Derfor må jeg nå oppby all min energi med dette målet for øye.
It is true that I have had only the one glance at him, and yet there are some things to which I am ready to swear. He is no one whom I have seen down here, and I have now met all the neighbours. The figure was far taller than that of Stapleton, far thinner than that of Frankland. Barrymore it might possibly have been, but we had left him behind us, and I am certain that he could not have followed us. A stranger then is still dogging us, just as a stranger dogged us in London. We have never shaken him off. If I could lay my hands upon that man, then at last we might find ourselves at the end of all our difficulties. To this one purpose I must now devote all my energies.
Min første tanke var å meddele sir Henry mine planer. Men jeg besluttet, og jeg tror det var det klokeste å handle på egen hånd og snakke så lite som mulig til noen andre. Sir Henry er taus og adspredt. Hans nerver er blitt alvorlig rystet ved lyden der ute på moen. Jeg vil ikke si noe for ikke å øke hans uro, men handle helt på egen hånd.
My first impulse was to tell Sir Henry all my plans. My second and wisest one is to play my own game and speak as little as possible to anyone. He is silent and distrait. His nerves have been strangely shaken by that sound upon the moor. I will say nothing to add to his anxieties, but I will take my own steps to attain my own end.
Vi hadde et lite opptrinn etter frokosten i dag. Barrymore bad om en samtale med sir Henry, og de lukket seg inne en stund. Jeg satt ute i biljardværelset, hvor jeg mere enn en gang hørte lyden av stemmer som ble hevet, og jeg kunne således utmerket godt gjøre meg opp en mening om hva emnet for samtalen var. Etter en stunds forløp åpnet sir Henry døren og ropte på meg.
We had a small scene this morning after breakfast. Barrymore asked leave to speak with Sir Henry, and they were closeted in his study some little time. Sitting in the billiard-room I more than once heard the sound of voices raised, and I had a pretty good idea what the point was which was under discussion. After a time the baronet opened his door and called for me.
"Barrymore considers that he has a grievance," he said. "He thinks that it was unfair on our part to hunt his brother-in-law down when he, of his own free will, had told us the secret."
Barrymore stod meget blek, men overordentlig rolig foran oss.
The butler was standing very pale but very collected before us.
“ Jeg har kanskje forivret meg noe, ” sa han, “ og må i så fall be Dem om unnskyldning. Men jeg kan ikke nekte at jeg ble meget overrasket, da jeg hørte at mine herrer kom tilbake imorges, og jeg fikk vite at dere hadde vært ute etter Selden. Det ulykkelige menneske har mere enn nok å kjempe med, uten at jeg skal legge stein til byrden. ”
"I may have spoken too warmly, sir," said he, "and if I have, I am sure that I beg your pardon. At the same time, I was very much surprised when I heard you two gentlemen come back this morning and learned that you had been chasing Selden. The poor fellow has enough to fight against without my putting more upon his track."
"If you had told us of your own free will it would have been a different thing," said the baronet, "you only told us, or rather your wife only told us, when it was forced from you and you could not help yourself."
"I didn't think you would have taken advantage of it, Sir Henry--indeed I didn't."
“ Mannen er jo en fare for samfunnet. Det ligger hus ensomt til bortover moen, og det er et menneske som ikke ville betenke seg på noe som helst. Man behøver bare å få et glimt av ham for å se det. Stapletons hus for eksempel. Det er jo bare ham selv til å forsvare det. Ingen kan være trygg, før den mannen er bak lås og lukke igjen. ”
"The man is a public danger. There are lonely houses scattered over the moor, and he is a fellow who would stick at nothing. You only want to get a glimpse of his face to see that. Look at Mr. Stapleton's house, for example, with no one but himself to defend it. There's no safety for anyone until he is under lock and key."
“ Han vil ikke bryte inn i noe hus, det kan jeg gi Dem mitt æresord på. Han vil aldri mere plage noen her til lands. Om noen dager vil de nødvendige foranstaltninger være truffet, og han vil da befinne seg på vei til Sydafrika. Men, sir Henry, jeg ber Dem, De må for Guds skyld ikke la politiet få kunnskap om at han befinner seg på moen. De har oppgitt å søke ham der, og nå kan han være i ro der til skipet er ferdig. De kan ikke gi noen underretning om ham uten at De også bringer meg og min hustru i forlegenhet. ”
"He'll break into no house, sir. I give you my solemn word upon that. But he will never trouble anyone in this country again. I assure you, Sir Henry, that in a very few days the necessary arrangements will have been made and he will be on his way to South America. For God's sake, sir, I beg of you not to let the police know that he is still on the moor. They have given up the chase there, and he can lie quiet until the ship is ready for him. You can't tell on him without getting my wife and me into trouble. I beg you, sir, to say nothing to the police."
“Hva mener De, Watson?”
"What do you say, Watson?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "If he were safely out of the country it would relieve the tax-payer of a burden."
“ Men hvilken sikkerhet har man for at han ikke overfaller noen ? ”
"But how about the chance of his holding someone up before he goes?"
"He would not do anything so mad, sir. We have provided him with all that he can want. To commit a crime would be to show where he was hiding."
"That is true," said Sir Henry. "Well, Barrymore --"
"God bless you, sir, and thank you from my heart! It would have killed my poor wife had he been taken again."
"I guess we are aiding and abetting a felony, Watson? But, after what we have heard I don't feel as if I could give the man up, so there is an end of it. All right, Barrymore, you can go."
With a few broken words of gratitude the man turned, but he hesitated and then came back.
“ De har vært så god mot oss, sir Henry, at jeg skulle ønske å kunne gjøre det beste for Dem til gjengjeld. Der er noe jeg vet, sir Henry, og jeg burde kanskje ha sagt det før; men jeg oppdaget det først lenge etter undersøkelsen. Jeg har ennå ikke sagt et ord om det til noe menneske i verden. Det angår sir Charles ' død. ”
"You've been so kind to us, sir, that I should like to do the best I can for you in return. I know something, Sir Henry, and perhaps I should have said it before, but it was long after the inquest that I found it out. I've never breathed a word about it yet to mortal man. It's about poor Sir Charles's death."
The baronet and I were both upon our feet. "Do you know how he died?"
“ Nei, det vet jeg ikke. ”
"No, sir, I don't know that."
“Hva da?”
"What then?"
"I know why he was at the gate at that hour. It was to meet a woman."
“ For å møte en kvinne ? Han ! ”
"To meet a woman! He?"
“ Ja, sir Henry. ”
"Yes, sir."
“Og denne kvinnens navn?”
"And the woman's name?"
"I can't give you the name, sir, but I can give you the initials. Her initials were L. L."
"How do you know this, Barrymore?"
“ Jo, sir Henry, Deres onkel hadde mottatt et brev den morgenen. Han fikk gjerne en hel del brev, for han var en kjent mann og alminnelig kjent for sitt gode hjertelag, slik at alle som var i forlegenhet, var glade for å kunne henvende seg til ham. Men denne morgenen kom det tilfeldigvis bare dette ene brevet. Jeg la derfor særlig merke til det. Det var fra Coombe Tracey, og adressen var skrevet med en kvinnes hånd. ”
"Well, Sir Henry, your uncle had a letter that morning. He had usually a great many letters, for he was a public man and well known for his kind heart, so that everyone who was in trouble was glad to turn to him. But that morning, as it chanced, there was only this one letter, so I took the more notice of it. It was from Coombe Tracey, and it was addressed in a woman's hand."
“Og så?”
"Well?"
“ Jeg tenkte ikke mere over saken, og ville heller ikke ha gjort det siden, hadde det ikke vært for min kone. For noen dager siden skulle hun gjøre rent i sir Charles ' arbeidsværelse. Da fant hun levningene av et brent brev bak kaminristen. Størstedelen var forkullet, men et lite stykke, den nederste del av en side, var uskadd, og skriften kunne ennå såvidt leses. Det så ut til å være en etterskrift og lød således: Kjære, vær så god å brenne dette brevet, så sant De er en gentleman, og vær ved porten klokken 10. ” Under kunne leses bokstavene L. L. ”
"Well, sir, I thought no more of the matter, and never would have done had it not been for my wife. Only a few weeks ago she was cleaning out Sir Charles's study--it had never been touched since his death--and she found the ashes of a burned letter in the back of the grate. The greater part of it was charred to pieces, but one little slip, the end of a page, hung together, and the writing could still be read, though it was gray on a black ground. It seemed to us to be a postscript at the end of the letter, and it said: 'Please, please, as you are a gentleman, burn this letter, and be at the gate by ten o clock. Beneath it were signed the initials L. L."
“ Har De det papirstykket ? ”
"Have you got that slip?"
"No, sir, it crumbled all to bits after we moved it."
"Had Sir Charles received any other letters in the same writing?"
"Well, sir, I took no particular notice of his letters. I should not have noticed this one, only it happened to come alone."
"And you have no idea who L. L. is?"
"No, sir. No more than you have. But I expect if we could lay our hands upon that lady we should know more about Sir Charles's death."
"I cannot understand, Barrymore, how you came to conceal this important information."
“ Det var umiddelbart etter at vi var kommet opp i våre egne forlegenheter. Og vi holdt begge meget av sir Charles, som hadde gjort så meget for oss. Å rippe opp i dette kunne ikke ha hjulpet vår stakkars herre, og det er alltid best å være varsom, når en kvinne er med i spillet. Selv de beste av oss — — — ”
"Well, sir, it was immediately after that our own trouble came to us. And then again, sir, we were both of us very fond of Sir Charles, as we well might be considering all that he has done for us. To rake this up couldn't help our poor master, and it's well to go carefully when there's a lady in the case. Even the best of us ----"
"You thought it might injure his reputation?"
"Well, sir, I thought no good could come of it. But now you have been kind to us, and I feel as if it would be treating you unfairly not to tell you all that I know about the matter."
"Very good, Barrymore; you can go." When the butler had left us Sir Henry turned to me. "Well, Watson, what do you think of this new light?"
"It seems to leave the darkness rather blacker than before."
"So I think. But if we can only trace L. L. it should clear up the whole business. We have gained that much. We know that there is someone who has the facts if we can only find her. What do you think we should do?"
"Let Holmes know all about it at once. It will give him the clue for which he has been seeking. I am much mistaken if it does not bring him down."
Jeg gikk rett inn på mitt værelse og skrev ned en innberetning til Holmes om samtalen samme morgen. Det var åpenbart at han hadde vært meget flittig i det siste; de meddelelsene jeg mottok fra Baker Street var både få og kortfattede, uten noen som helst bemerkninger om opplysningene som jeg hadde sendt, og nesten ikke en hentydning til mitt hverv. Han er sikkert fullstendig opptatt av injurieprosessen. Men denne nye omstendigheten må bestemt vekke hans oppmerksomhet og fornye hans interesse. Jeg ønsker bare at han var her.
I went at once to my room and drew up my report of the morning's conversation for Holmes. It was evident to me that he had been very busy of late, for the notes which I had from Baker Street were few and short, with no comments upon the information which I had supplied and hardly any reference to my mission. No doubt his blackmailing case is absorbing all his faculties. And yet this new factor must surely arrest his attention and renew his interest. I wish that he were here.
17de oktober: I hele dag har regnet strømmet ned, raslet i eføyen og dryppet fra taket. Jeg måtte tenke på den rømte fangen, som var uten ly ute på den kalde, uhyggelige moen. Stakkars menneske ! Hvilke forbrytelser han enn har begått, har han dog også måttet bøte hårdt for dem. Og siden måtte jeg tenke på den andre — ansiktet i vognen, skikkelsen mot månen. Var han også ute i denne syndflod — den hemmelighetsfulle vakten, mørkets mann ? Om ettermiddagen tok jeg på min regnkappe og vandret langt ut på den oppbløtte moen. Regnet pisket meg i ansiktet, og vinden hvinte i ørene. Gud hjelpe dem som er ute på den store myren nå; selv det faste land er blitt et gjørmehav. Jeg fant den sorte klippekammen hvor jeg hadde sett den ensomme skikkelsen, og fra dens taggete topp kunne jeg nå selv se utover de dystre strekningene nedenunder. Regnbyger drev over den rødbrune flaten, og tunge, blyfarvede skyer hang lavt over landskapet eller buktet seg i grå ringer om de fantastiske høydedragene. I en åpning til venstre, halvt skjult av tåken, hevet seg i det fjerne over trærne de to tynne tårn på Baskerville herregård. Det var det eneste vitnesbyrdet om menneskelig liv som jeg kunne oppdage, med unntagelse av de forhistoriske hyttene, som lå tett strødd utover høydeskrentene. Derimot var det intet spor å se etter den selsomme skikkelsen som jeg hadde sett på dette stedet to netter før.
OCTOBER 17TH.--All day to-day the rain poured down, rustling on the ivy and dripping from the eaves. I thought of the convict out upon the bleak, cold, shelterless moor. Poor devil! Whatever his crimes, he has suffered something to atone for them. And then I thought of that other one--the face in the cab, the figure against the moon. Was he also out in that deluged--the unseen watcher, the man of darkness? In the evening I put on my waterproof and I walked far upon the sodden moor, full of dark imaginings, the rain beating upon my face and the wind whistling about my ears. God help those who wander into the great mire now, for even the firm uplands are becoming a morass. I found the black tor upon which I had seen the solitary watcher, and from its craggy summit I looked out myself across the melancholy downs. Rain squalls drifted across their russet face, and the heavy, slate-coloured clouds hung low over the landscape, trailing in gray wreaths down the sides of the fantastic hills. In the distant hollow on the left, half hidden by the mist, the two thin towers of Baskerville Hall rose above the trees. They were the only signs of human life which I could see, save only those prehistoric huts which lay thickly upon the slopes of the hills. Nowhere was there any trace of that lonely man whom I had seen on the same spot two nights before.
Da jeg gikk tilbake, ble jeg innhentet av doktor Mortimer, som kom kjørende i sin gig ad en dårlig vei fra en liten gård, Foulmine, i utkanten av moen. Han hadde vært meget oppmerksom mot oss, og det er neppe gått en dag, uten at han har vært på Baskerville herregård for å høre om vårt befinnende. Han ville endelig at jeg skulle ta plass ved siden av ham, og kjørte meg hjem. Han var meget bedrøvet over at hans hund var forsvunnet. Den var sprunget ut på moen og var siden ikke kommet tilbake. Jeg trøstet ham så godt jeg kunne, men jeg måtte tenke på hesten i Grimpenmyren, og har ikke synderlig håp om at han vil få se hunden igjen.
As I walked back I was overtaken by Dr. Mortimer driving in his dog-cart over a rough moorland track which led from the outlying farmhouse of Foulmire. He has been very attentive to us, and hardly a day has passed that he has not called at the Hall to see how we were getting on. He insisted upon my climbing into his dog-cart, and he gave me a lift homeward. I found him much troubled over the disappearance of his little spaniel. It had wandered on to the moor and had never come back. I gave him such consolation as I might, but I thought of the pony on the Grimpen Mire, and I do not fancy that he will see his little dog again.
"By the way, Mortimer," said I as we jolted along the rough road, "I suppose there are few people living within driving distance of this whom you do not know?"
"Hardly any, I think."
"Can you, then, tell me the name of any woman whose initials are L. L.?"
Han tenkte seg om en stund. “ Nei, ” sa han. “ Her finnes noen tatere og arbeidsfolk som jeg ikke kjenner, men blant forpakterne eller de kondisjonerte familier finnes det ikke noen hvor navnet begynner med de bokstavene. Jo, vent litt, ” fortsatte han etter en stunds forløp. “ Laura Lyons — hennes forbokstaver er jo L. L. —, men hun bor i Coombe Tracey. ”
He thought for a few minutes. "No," said he. "There are a few gipsies and labouring folk for whom I can't answer, but among the farmers or gentry there is no one whose initials are those. Wait a bit though," he added after a pause. "There is Laura Lyons--her initials are L. L.--but she lives in Coombe Tracey."
"Who is she?" I asked.
“ Hun er datter av Frankland. ”
"She is Frankland's daughter."
“Hva? Den gamle Frankland?”
"What! Old Frankland the crank?"
“ Javisst. Hun ble gift med en kunstner ved navn Lyons, som var her ute på moen for å ta skisser. Det viste seg siden at det var en dårlig kar, og det endte med at han forlot henne. Etter hva jeg har hørt, kan skylden dog ikke bare tillegges den ene part. Hennes far ville ikke ha noe mer med henne å gjøre, fordi hun hadde giftet seg uten hans samtykke, og sannsynligvis vel også av andre grunner. Så mellom den gamle og den unge synder hadde den unge kvinne det derfor riktig ille. ”
"Exactly. She married an artist named Lyons, who came sketching on the moor. He proved to be a blackguard and deserted her. The fault from what I hear may not have been entirely on one side. Her father refused to have anything to do with her because she had married without his consent, and perhaps for one or two other reasons as well. So, between the old sinner and the young one the girl has had a pretty bad time."
“ Hvordan har hun det nå ? ”
"How does she live?"
“ Jeg antar at gamle Frankland gir henne litt understøttelse, men meget kan det ikke bli, for hans egne affærer står det temmelig dårlig til med. Men hvor meget hun enn hadde fortjent det, kunne man ikke la henne gå helt i hundene. Hennes historie ble kjent, og forskjellige av de herboende gjorde noe for å sikre henne et hederlig underhold. Stapleton og sir Charles gjorde sitt. Jeg bidro også en smule selv. Meningen var å sette henne i stand til å begynne med maskinskrivning. ”
"I fancy old Frankland allows her a pittance, but it cannot be more, for his own affairs are considerably involved. Whatever she may have deserved one could not allow her to go hopelessly to the bad. Her story got about, and several of the people here did something to enable her to earn an honest living. Stapleton did for one, and Sir Charles for another. I gave a trifle myself. It was to set her up in a typewriting business."
Han ville vite hvorfor jeg hadde spurt, men jeg lyktes i å tilfredsstille hans nysgjerrighet uten å fortelle ham for meget. Vi har jo ingen grunn til å innvie noen i disse affærene. I morgen vil jeg ta til Coombe Tracey, og kan jeg bare treffe denne fru Laura Lyons med det mindre gode ryktet, vil vi være kommet et langt stykke på vei til å få oppklart et ledd i denne lange rekken av mysterier. Jeg måtte utvikle en slanges snedighet, og da Mortimers spørsmål begynte å bli nærgående, spurte jeg ham ganske tilfeldig om hv slags type hodeskalle Franklands var. Siden var det på hele turen ikke snakk om annet enn skallevitenskap. Jeg har ikke vært sammen med Sherlock Holmes i årevis for ingenting.
He wanted to know the object of my inquiries, but I managed to satisfy his curiosity without telling him too much, for there is no reason why we should take anyone into our confidence. To-morrow morning I shall find my way to Coombe Tracey, and if I can see this Mrs. Laura Lyons, of equivocal reputation, a long step will have been made towards clearing one incident in this chain of mysteries. I am certainly developing the wisdom of the serpent, for when Mortimer pressed his questions to an inconvenient extent I asked him casually to what type Frankland's skull belonged, and so heard nothing but craniology for the rest of our drive. I have not lived for years with Sherlock Holmes for nothing.
I have only one other incident to record upon this tempestuous and melancholy day. This was my conversation with Barrymore just now, which gives me one more strong card which I can play in due time.
Mortimer had stayed to dinner, and he and the baronet played ecart‚ afterwards. The butler brought me my coffee into the library, and I took the chance to ask him a few questions.
"Well," said I, "has this precious relation of yours departed, or is he still lurking out yonder?"
"I don't know, sir. I hope to heaven that he has gone, for he has brought nothing but trouble here! I've not heard of him since I left out food for him last, and that was three days ago."
“ Så De ham da ? ”
"Did you see him then?"
"No, sir, but the food was gone when next I went that way."
“ Han var der altså ? ”
"Then he was certainly there?"
"So you would think, sir, unless it was the other man who took it."
I sat with my coffee-cup halfway to my lips and stared at Barrymore.
"You know that there is another man then?"
“ Ja, det er en annen mann på moen. ”
"Yes, sir; there is another man upon the moor."
"Have you seen him?"
“Nei, hr. doktor.”
"No, sir."
"How do you know of him then?"
"Selden told me of him, sir, a week ago or more. He's in hiding, too, but he's not a convict as far as I can make out. I don't like it, Dr. Watson--I tell you straight, sir, that I don't like it." He spoke with a sudden passion of earnestness.
"Now, listen to me, Barrymore! I have no interest in this matter but that of your master. I have come here with no object except to help him. Tell me, frankly, what it is that you don't like."
Barrymore hesitated for a moment, as if he regretted his outburst, or found it difficult to express his own feelings in words.
“ Alt dette som foregår her, ” svarte han til slutt og slo ut med hånden mot det regnfulle vinduet, som vendte ut til moen. “ Jeg vil sverge på at her spilles falskt spill et eller annet sted, og brygges på en eller annen ondskap. Jeg skulle bli meget glad når jeg kunne se sir Henry på vei tilbake til London. ”
"It's all these goings-on, sir," he cried at last, waving his hand towards the rain-lashed window which faced the moor. "There's foul play somewhere, and there's black villainy brewing, to that I'll swear! Very glad I should be, sir, to see Sir Henry on his way back to London again!"
“ Men hvorfor er De så urolig ? ”
"But what is it that alarms you?"
“ Tenk på sir Charles ' død ! — Den var uhyggelig nok, tross alt der ble sagt av folkene som foretok likskuet. Og lyden på moen om natten. Det finnes ikke en mann som ville gå over den etter mørkets frembrudd, om man betalte ham aldri så meget for det. Og denne fremmede, som nå ligger skjult der ute og lurer og venter ! Hva venter han på ? Hva skal det bety ? Det betyr ikke noe godt for noen av navnet Baskerville, og jeg vil bli meget glad når sir Henrys nye tjenerpersonale kan overta Baskerville herregård, og jeg kan komme ut av det alt sammen. ”
"Look at Sir Charles's death! That was bad enough, for all that the coroner said. Look at the noises on the moor at night. There's not a man would cross it after sundown if he was paid for it. Look at this stranger hiding out yonder, and watching and waiting! What's he waiting for? What does it mean? It means no good to anyone of the name of Baskerville, and very glad I shall be to be quit of it all on the day that Sir Henry's new servants are ready to take over the Hall."
"But about this stranger," said I. "Can you tell me anything about him? What did Selden say? Did he find out where he hid, or what he was doing?"
"He saw him once or twice, but he is a deep one, and gives nothing away. At first he thought that he was the police, but soon he found that he had some lay of his own. A kind of gentleman he was, as far as he could see, but what he was doing he could not make out."
"And where did he say that he lived?"
“ I de gamle husene på høydeskrenten — steinhyttene hvor folk bodde i gamle dager. ”
"Among the old houses on the hillside--the stone huts where the old folk used to live."
“ Men hvor fikk han mat fra ? ”
"But how about his food?"
"Selden found out that he has got a lad who works for him and brings him all he needs. I dare say he goes to Coombe Tracey for what he wants."
“ Godt, Barrymore. Vi må snakke mere sammen om dette senere. ” Da Barrymore var gått, gikk jeg over til det mørke vinduet og stirret gjennom ruten ut på de drivende skyene og trærne; deres kroner svingte frem og tilbake i vinden. Det er en uhyggelig aften inne, og hva må den ikke så være i en steinhytte ute på moen ? Hvilket lidenskapelig hat kan drive et menneske til å ligge og lure på et slikt sted på en slik tid ? Hvilket mål kan han ha satt seg, som gjør slikt nødvendig ? I den hytten på moen synes kjernen å måtte finnes i den gåten som nå har pint meg så lenge. Jeg lover at det skal ikke gå en dag til før jeg har gjort alt som står i menneskelig makt for å trenge til bunns i denne hemmeligheten. * * *
"Very good, Barrymore. We may talk further of this some other time." When the butler had gone I walked over to the black window, and I looked through a blurred pane at the driving clouds and at the tossing outline of the wind-swept trees. It is a wild night indoors, and what must it be in a stone hut upon the moor. What passion of hatred can it be which leads a man to lurk in such a place at such a time! And what deep and earnest purpose can he have which calls for such a trial! There, in that hut upon the moor, seems to lie the very centre of that problem which has vexed me so sorely. I swear that another day shall not have passed before I have done all that man can do to reach the heart of the mystery.
Ellevte kapitel. Mannen på klippekammen.
Chapter 11 The Man on the Tor
UTDRAGET av min dagbok som dannet innholdet av foregående kapitel har brakt min fortelling frem til den 18de oktober, et tidspunkt da disse merkelige begivenhetene begynte å utvikle seg meget raskt mot deres forferdelige avslutning. De nærmeste dagers hendelser er uutslettelig preget i min erindring, og jeg kan fortelle dem uten å ty til opptegnelsene jeg gjorde samtidig. Jeg begynner med dagen etter at jeg hadde konstatert to kjennsgjerninger som var av stor viktighet — den ene, at fru Laura Lyons fra Coombe Tracey hadde skrevet til sir Charles Baskerville og satt ham stevne nettopp på stedet og til tiden da han fant sin død — den andre, at mannen som lå på lur ute på moen, holdt til i de gamle steinhyttene der ute. Da jeg hadde fastslått disse to kjennsgjerningene, følte jeg med meg selv at enten måtte min fornuft eller mitt mot svikte meg hvis jeg nå ikke skulle kunne bringe mere lys i saken.
The extract from my private diary which forms the last chapter has brought my narrative up to the 18th of October, a time when these strange events began to move swiftly towards their terrible conclusion. The incidents of the next few days are indelibly graven upon my recollection, and I can tell them without reference to the notes made at the time. I start then from the day which succeeded that upon which I had established two facts of great importance, the one that Mrs. Laura Lyons of Coombe Tracey had written to Sir Charles Baskerville and made an appointment with him at the very place and hour that he met his death, the other that the lurking man upon the moor was to be found among the stone huts upon the hill-side. With these two facts in my possession I felt that either my intelligence or my courage must be deficient if I could not throw some further light upon these dark places.
Jeg hadde ingen anledning til å fortelle sir Henry hva jeg hadde fått vite om fru Lyons aftenen før. Doktor Mortimer ble nemlig hos oss og spilte kort med ham til sent på aftenen. Ved frokostbordet meddelte jeg ham min oppdagelse, og spurte om han ville ledsage meg til Coombe Tracey. Først var han meget ivrig etter å bli med, men etter nærmere overveielse fant vi begge ut at utbyttet kanskje ville bli bedre hvis jeg reiste alene bort dit. Jo mere formell visitten var, jo mindre opplysninger fikk vi kanskje. Sir Henry ble derfor hjemme, og jeg tok avsted alene, men jeg forlot ham ikke med helt god samvittighet.
I had no opportunity to tell the baronet what I had learned about Mrs. Lyons upon the evening before, for Dr. Mortimer remained with him at cards until it was very late. At breakfast, however, I informed him about my discovery, and asked him whether he would care to accompany me to Coombe Tracey. At first he was very eager to come, but on second thoughts it seemed to both of us that if I went alone the results might be better. The more formal we made the visit the less information we might obtain. I left Sir Henry behind, therefore, not without some prickings of conscience, and drove off upon my new quest.
Da jeg nådde Coombe Tracey, lot jeg Perkins ta vare på hestene, og begynte selv å søke å få greie på den damen som jeg skulle besøke, og det var ingen vanskeligheter med å finne hennes bolig. Hun bodde midt i byen og meget pent. En pike viste meg rett inn i stuen uten opphevelser. I det jeg kom inn, reiste en dame seg opp. Hun satt foran en Remington-skrivemaskin, og bød meg velkommen med et inntagende smil. Dette forsvant imidlertid da hun forstod jeg var en fremmed. Hun satte seg ned igjen og spurte meg hva jeg ønsket.
When I reached Coombe Tracey I told Perkins to put up the horses, and I made inquiries for the lady whom I had come to interrogate. I had no difficulty in finding her rooms, which were central and well appointed. A maid showed me in without ceremony, and as I entered the sitting-room a lady, who was sitting before a Remington typewriter, sprang up with a pleasant smile of welcome. Her face fell, however, when she saw that I was a stranger, and she sat down again and asked me the object of my visit.
Det første inntrykket av fru Lyons var at hun var en usedvanlig skjønnhet. Hennes øyne og hår var av samme rike, nøttebrune farve; kinnene var sterkt fregnet, men deres sjeldne rødme minnet om svovelrosens skjær. Det første inntrykket var beundring. Men det neste var kritikk. Det var noe i veien med ansiktet, noe grovt i uttrykket, en viss hårdhet i blikket og noe vekt ved munnen som skjemte helhetsinntrykket. I øyeblikket var jeg bare bevisst at jeg stod overfor en meget vakker dame, og at hun hadde spurt meg om grunnen til mitt besøk. Først nå gikk det opp for meg hvor ytterst vanskelig mitt hverv var.
The first impression left by Mrs. Lyons was one of extreme beauty. Her eyes and hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and her cheeks, though considerably freckled, were flushed with the exquisite bloom of the brunette, the dainty pink which lurks at the heart of the sulphur rose. Admiration was, I repeat, the first impression. But the second was criticism. There was something subtly wrong with the face, some coarseness of expression, some hardness, perhaps, of eye, some looseness of lip which marred its perfect beauty. But these, of course, are after-thoughts. At the moment I was simply conscious that I was in the presence of a very handsome woman, and that she was asking me the reasons for my visit. I had not quite understood until that instant how delicate my mission was.
"I have the pleasure," said I, "of knowing your father." It was a clumsy introduction, and the lady made me feel it.
"There is nothing in common between my father and me," she said. "I owe him nothing, and his friends are not mine. If it were not for the late Sir Charles Baskerville and some other kind hearts I might have starved for all that my father cared."
"It was about the late Sir Charles Baskerville that I have come here to see you."
Fregnene trådde skarpere frem i fru Lyons ansikt.
The freckles started out on the lady's face.
"What can I tell you about him?" she asked, and her fingers played nervously over the stops of her typewriter.
“ De kjente ham, ikke sant ? ”
"You knew him, did you not?"
"I have already said that I owe a great deal to his kindness. If I am able to support myself it is largely due to the interest which he took in my unhappy situation."
“ Vekslet De noensinne brev med ham ? ”
"Did you correspond with him?"
Hun så raskt opp med et misfornøyd glimt i sine nøttebrune øyne.
The lady looked quickly up with an angry gleam in her hazel eyes.
"What is the object of these questions?" she asked sharply.
"The object is to avoid a public scandal. It is better that I should ask them here than that the matter should pass outside our control."
She was silent and her face was still very pale. At last she looked up with something reckless and defiant in her manner.
"Well, I'll answer," she said. "What are your questions?"
"Did you correspond with Sir Charles?"
"I certainly wrote to him once or twice to acknowledge his delicacy and his generosity."
"Have you the dates of those letters?"
“Nei.”
"No."
"Have you ever met him?"
"Yes, once or twice, when he came into Coombe Tracey. He was a very retiring man, and he preferred to do good by stealth."
"But if you saw him so seldom and wrote so seldom, how did he know enough about your affairs to be able to help you, as you say that he has done?"
På dette spørsmål hadde hun straks svar på rede hånd.
She met my difficulty with the utmost readiness.
"There were several gentlemen who knew my sad history and united to help me. One was Mr. Stapleton, a neighbour and intimate friend of Sir Charles's. He was exceedingly kind, and it was through him that Sir Charles learned about my affairs."
I knew already that Sir Charles Baskerville had made Stapleton his almoner upon several occasions, so the lady's statement bore the impress of truth upon it.
"Did you ever write to Sir Charles asking him to meet you?" I continued.
Mrs. Lyons flushed with anger again.
“ Dette er virkelig et høyst merkelig spørsmål. ”
"Really, sir, this is a very extraordinary question."
"I am sorry, madam, but I must repeat it."
"Then I answer, certainly not."
"Not on the very day of Sir Charles's death?"
The flush had faded in an instant, and a deathly face was before me. Her dry lips could not speak the "No" which I saw rather than heard.
"Surely your memory deceives you," said I. "I could even quote a passage of your letter. It ran 'Please, please, as you are a gentleman, burn this letter, and be at the gate by ten o'clock.'"
I thought that she had fainted, but she recovered herself by a supreme effort.
“ Gis det da virkelig ikke noe slikt som en gentleman, ” hvisket hun.
"Is there no such thing as a gentleman?" she gasped.
"You do Sir Charles an injustice. He did burn the letter. But sometimes a letter may be legible even when burned. You acknowledge now that you wrote it?"
“ Ja, ” svarte hun og ga sin opphissede stemning luft i en strøm av ord. “ Ja, jeg skrev det. Hvorfor skulle jeg nekte for det ? Jeg har ingen grunn til å skamme meg over det. Jeg ville ha ham til å hjelpe meg. Jeg trodde at hvis jeg kunne få en samtale med ham, ville han gjøre det. Derfor bad jeg ham møte meg. ”
"Yes, I did write it," she cried, pouring out her soul in a torrent of words. "I did write it. Why should I deny it? I have no reason to be ashamed of it. I wished him to help me. I believed that if I had an interview I could gain his help, so I asked him to meet me."
“Men hvorfor på en slik tid?”
"But why at such an hour?"
"Because I had only just learned that he was going to London next day and might be away for months. There were reasons why I could not get there earlier."
"But why a rendezvous in the garden instead of a visit to the house?"
"Do you think a woman could go alone at that hour to a bachelor's house?"
"Well, what happened when you did get there?"
“ Jeg gikk aldri dit. ”
"I never went."
“Fru Lyons!”
"Mrs. Lyons!"
"No, I swear it to you on all I hold sacred. I never went. Something intervened to prevent my going."
“Hva da?”
"What was that?"
"That is a private matter. I cannot tell it."
"You acknowledge then that you made an appointment with Sir Charles at the very hour and place at which he met his death, but you deny that you kept the appointment."
“Ja.”
"That is the truth."
Again and again I cross-questioned her, but I could never get past that point.
“ Fru Lyons, ” sa jeg, da jeg reiste meg etter denne lange og lite tilfredsstillende samtalen, “ De har tatt et meget stort ansvar på Dem og stiller Dem selv i en meget uheldig stilling når De ikke vil fortelle åpent og fullt ut alt som De vet. Hvis jeg er tvunget til å påkalle politiets hjelp, må De innse hvor sterkt De er kompromittert. Når De er ganske uskyldig, hvorfor nektet De da først at De hadde skrevet til sir Charles Baskerville den dagen ? ”
"Mrs. Lyons," said I, as I rose from this long and inconclusive interview, "you are taking a very great responsibility and putting yourself in a very false position by not making an absolutely clean breast of all that you know. If I have to call in the aid of the police you will find how seriously you are compromised. If your position is innocent, why did you in the first instance deny having written to Sir Charles upon that date?"
"Because I feared that some false conclusion might be drawn from it and that I might find myself involved in a scandal."
"And why were you so pressing that Sir Charles should destroy your letter?"
"If you have read the letter you will know."
"I did not say that I had read all the letter."
“ De siterte jo noe av det. ”
"You quoted some of it."
"I quoted the postscript. The letter had, as I said, been burned and it was not all legible. I ask you once again why it was that you were so pressing that Sir Charles should destroy this letter which he received on the day of his death."
“ Det er en fullstendig privat sak. ”
"The matter is a very private one."
"The more reason why you should avoid a public investigation."
"I will tell you, then. If you have heard anything of my unhappy history you will know that I made a rash marriage and had reason to regret it."
"I have heard so much."
“ Mitt liv har vært en uavbrutt forfølgelse av en mann som jeg avskyr. Han har loven på sin side, og hver dag kan jeg stå overfor den mulighet at han vil tvinge meg til å leve med seg. Den gangen jeg skrev dette brevet til sir Charles Baskerville, hadde jeg fått vite at det var en mulighet for å gjenvinne min frihet hvis jeg kunne skaffe en viss sum penger. Det var for meg alt — sjelefred, lykke, selvaktelse — alt. Jeg kjente sir Charles Baskervilles edelmodighet, og jeg tenkte at hvis han fikk høre min historie fra mine egne lepper ville han hjelpe meg. ”
"My life has been one incessant persecution from a husband whom I abhor. The law is upon his side, and every day I am faced by the possibility that he may force me to live with him. At the time that I wrote this letter to Sir Charles I had learned that there was a prospect of my regaining my freedom if certain expenses could be met. It meant everything to me--peace of mind, happiness, self-respect--everything. I knew Sir Charles's generosity, and I thought that if he heard the story from my own lips he would help me."
“ Hvorfor gikk De da ikke ? ”
"Then how is it that you did not go?"
“ Fordi jeg i mellomtiden fikk hjelp fra en annen kant. ”
"Because I received help in the interval from another source."
"Why then, did you not write to Sir Charles and explain this?"
"So I should have done had I not seen his death in the paper next morning."
The woman's story hung coherently together, and all my questions were unable to shake it. I could only check it by finding if she had, indeed, instituted divorce proceedings against her husband at or about the time of the tragedy.
Det var usannsynlig at hun ville våge å si at hun ikke hadde vært ved Baskerville herregård hvis hun virkelig hadde vært der, for hun måtte ha kjørt ditt, og hun kunne ikke vendt tilbake til Coombe Tracey før tidlig på morgensiden. En slik tur kunne ikke være holdt hemmelig. Det var derfor sannsynligst at hun hadde snakket, sant eller i alle fall delvis sant. Jeg var ikke kommet nærmere målet, og vendte skuffet tilbake. Atter hadde jeg støtt hodet mot denne muren som så ut til å krysse hvert et spor som jeg prøvde å følge for å komme til målet for min tilstedeværelse. Dog — jo mere jeg tenkte på fru Lyons ' ansikt og hennes oppførsel, jo sterkere følte jeg at der var noe som hun skjulte for meg. Hvorfor skulle hun bli så blek ? Hvorfor skulle hun vegre seg for enhver tilståelse, inntil den ble avtvunget henne ? Hvorfor skulle hun ha vært så forbeholden, den gang ulykken fant sted ? Grunnen til det kunne ikke være så uskyldig som hun ville ha meg til å tro. Men for øyeblikket kunne jeg ikke komme videre i denne retningen, men måtte vende tilbake til det andre sporet, som måtte søkes mellom steinhyttene på moen.
It was unlikely that she would dare to say that she had not been to Baskerville Hall if she really had been, for a trap would be necessary to take her there, and could not have returned to Coombe Tracey until the early hours of the morning. Such an excursion could not be kept secret. The probability was, therefore, that she was telling the truth, or, at least, a part of the truth. I came away baffled and disheartened. Once again I had reached that dead wall which seemed to be built across every path by which I tried to get at the object of my mission. And yet the more I thought of the lady's face and of her manner the more I felt that something was being held back from me. Why should she turn so pale? Why should she fight against every admission until it was forced from her? Why should she have been so reticent at the time of the tragedy? Surely the explanation of all this could not be as innocent as she would have me believe. For the moment I could proceed no farther in that direction, but must turn back to that other clue which was to be sought for among the stone huts upon the moor.
Å søke mellom steinhyttene var noe ubestemt. Det forstod jeg da jeg kjørte tilbake og la merke til hvordan høyde etter høyde bar spor etter forhistoriske mennesker. Barrymore hadde kun angitt at den fremmede holdt til i en av disse forlatte hyttene, og mange hundre av dem finnes spredt vidt og bredt ut over moen. Men jeg hadde jo min egen erfaring til rettledning. Jeg hadde sett mannen selv på klippekammen. Den måtte således bli midtpunktet for mine undersøkelser. Derfra måtte jeg undersøke hver eneste hytte på hele moen, inntil jeg traff på den rette. Hvis den fremmede fantes i en av dem, skulle jeg få ut av ham, om det så gjaldt ved hjelp av en revolver, hvem han var, og hvorfor han hadde fulgt oss så lenge i hælene. Han kunne nok slippe fra oss i Regent Street, men det ville ikke være så lett for ham her på den ensomme moen. Men fant jeg hytten, og den fremmede ikke var der, måtte jeg bli der inntil han kom tilbake, hvor lenge jeg så enn måtte vente. Holmes hadde tapt sporet hans i London. Det ville virkelig bli en triumf for meg hvis jeg kunne fakke ham når min mester ikke hadde maktet det.
And that was a most vague direction. I realized it as I drove back and noted how hill after hill showed traces of the ancient people. Barrymore's only indication had been that the stranger lived in one of these abandoned huts, and many hundreds of them are scattered throughout the length and breadth of the moor. But I had my own experience for a guide since it had shown me the man himself standing upon the summit of the Black Tor. That then should be the centre of my search. From there I should explore every hut upon the moor until I lighted upon the right one. If this man were inside it I should find out from his own lips, at the point of my revolver if necessary, who he was and why he had dogged us so long. He might slip away from us in the crowd of Regent Street, but it would puzzle him to do so upon the lonely moor. On the other hand, if I should find the hut and its tenant should not be within it I must remain there, however long the vigil, until he returned. Holmes had missed him in London. It would indeed be a triumph for me if I could run him to earth, where my master had failed.
Luck had been against us again and again in this inquiry, but now at last it came to my aid. And the messenger of good fortune was none other than Mr. Frankland, who was standing, gray-whiskered and red-faced, outside the gate of his garden, which opened on to the high road along which I travelled.
"Good-day, Dr. Watson," cried he with unwonted good humour, "you must really give your horses a rest, and come in to have a glass of wine and to congratulate me."
My feelings towards him were very far from being friendly after what I had heard of his treatment of his daughter, but I was anxious to send Perkins and the wagonette home, and the opportunity was a good one. I alighted and sent a message to Sir Henry that I should walk over in time for dinner. Then I followed Frankland into his dining-room.
“ Det er en viktig dag for meg, doktor Watson, en av de beste i mitt liv, ” utbrøt han med mange grimaser. “ Jeg har fått brakt to ting på det rene. Jeg skal lære folk på disse kanter, at lov er lov, og at det finnes en mann som ikke er redd for å kalle på lovens hjelp. Jeg har fått slått fast at folk har rett til vei tvers gjennom Middletons park, kun hundre meter fra hans egen gatedør. Hva sier De til det ? Vi skal lære disse storkarene at de ikke kan trampe på den menige manns rettigheter. Dessuten har jeg fått stengt skogen hvor folk fra Fernworthy har pleid å holde til og more seg. Disse forbannede mennesker innbiller seg visst at det ikke er noe som heter eiendomsrett; de mener at de kan sverme omkring hvor de finner for godt med sine flasker og sitt papir. Begge saker er nå dømt, doktor Watson, og begge er falt ut til gunst for meg. Jeg har ikke hatt en slik dag siden jeg fikk dømt John Morland for ulovlig inntrengning på annen manns eiendom, skjønt han jaget på egen mark. ”
"It is a great day for me, sir--one of the red-letter days of my life," he cried with many chuckles. "I have brought off a double event. I mean to teach them in these parts that law is law, and that there is a man here who does not fear to invoke it. I have established a right of way through the centre of old Middleton's park, slap across it, sir, within a hundred yards of his own front door. What do you think of that? We'll teach these magnates that they cannot ride roughshod over the rights of the commoners, confound them! And I've closed the wood where the Fernworthy folk used to picnic. These infernal people seem to think that there are no rights of property, and that they can swarm where they like with their papers and their bottles. Both cases decided, Dr. Watson, and both in my favour. I haven't had such a day since I had Sir John Morland for trespass, because he shot in his own warren."
"How on earth did you do that?"
"Look it up in the books, sir. It will repay reading--Frankland v. Morland, Court of Queen's Bench. It cost me 200 pounds, but I got my verdict."
“ Hadde De noen nytte av det ? ”
"Did it do you any good?"
“ Nei, aldeles ikke. Jeg er stolt av at jeg ikke hadde noen personlig interesse i saken. Jeg handler utelukkende av følelsen av min plikt mot samfunnet. Jeg har ingen tvil om at folk her i Fernworthy vil brenne meg in effigie i natt. Jeg sa til politiet, sist de gjorde det, at det måtte settes en stopper for slike stygge opptrinn. Men politiet her på landet er i en skandaløs forfatning; det har ikke ytt meg den beskyttelsen som jeg kunne forlange. Saken Frankland mot Regina vil henlede publikums oppmerksomhet på dette forholdet. Jeg sa dem at de nok ville få grunn til å angre sin oppførsel mot meg, og mine ord er allerede gått i oppfyllelse. ”
"None, sir, none. I am proud to say that I had no interest in the matter. I act entirely from a sense of public duty. I have no doubt, for example, that the Fernworthy people will burn me in effigy to-night. I told the police last time they did it that they should stop these disgraceful exhibitions. The County Constabulary is in a scandalous state, sir, and it has not afforded me the protection to which I am entitled. The case of Frankland v. Regina will bring the matter before the attention of the public. I told them that they would have occasion to regret their treatment of me, and already my words have come true."
“ Hvordan det ? ” spurte jeg.
"How so?" I asked.
Den gamle mann antok en meget vitende mine.
The old man put on a very knowing expression.
"Because I could tell them what they are dying to know; but nothing would induce me to help the rascals in any way."
I had been casting round for some excuse by which I could get away from his gossip, but now I began to wish to hear more of it. I had seen enough of the contrary nature of the old sinner to understand that any strong sign of interest would be the surest way to stop his confidences.
“ En eller annen krypskytterhistorie, formodentlig, ” sa jeg så likegyldig som mulig.
"Some poaching case, no doubt?" said I, with an indifferent manner.
"Ha, ha, my boy, a very much more important matter than that! What about the convict on the moor?"
I started. "You don't mean that you know where he is?" said I.
"I may not know exactly where he is, but I am quite sure that I could help the police to lay their hands on him. Has it never struck you that the way to catch that man was to find out where he got his food, and so trace it to him?"
He certainly seemed to be getting uncomfortably near the truth. "No doubt," said I; "but how do you know that he is anywhere upon the moor?"
"I know it because I have seen with my own eyes the messenger who takes him his food."
My heart sank for Barrymore. It was a serious thing to be in the power of this spiteful old busybody. But his next remark took a weight from my mind.
"You'll be surprised to hear that his food is taken to him by a child. I see him every day through my telescope upon the roof. He passes along the same path at the same hour, and to whom should he be going except to the convict?"
Her var jeg virkelig heldig ! Men jeg lot som om det ikke interesserte meg det minste. Et barn ! Barrymore hadde fortalt at vår ukjente mann ble skaffet det nødvendigste av en gutt. Frankland var kommet på spor etter ham, ikke etter den rømte fangen. Kunne jeg få ham til å fortelle hva han visste, ville det spare meg en lang og besværlig undersøkelse. Men jeg ville åpenbart komme lengst med mistro og likegyldighet.
Here was luck indeed! And yet I suppressed all appearance of interest. A child! Barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied by a boy. It was on his track, and not upon the convict's, that Frankland had stumbled. If I could get his knowledge it might save me a long and weary hunt. But incredulity and indifference were evidently my strongest cards.
"I should say that it was much more likely that it was the son of one of the moorland shepherds taking out his father's dinner."
The least appearance of opposition struck fire out of the old autocrat. His eyes looked malignantly at me, and his gray whiskers bristled like those of an angry cat.
"Indeed, sir!" said he, pointing out over the wide-stretching moor. "Do you see that Black Tor over yonder? Well, do you see the low hill beyond with the thornbush upon it? It is the stoniest part of the whole moor. Is that a place where a shepherd would be likely to take his station? Your suggestion, sir, is a most absurd one."
I meekly answered that I had spoken without knowing all the facts. My submission pleased him and led him to further confidences.
"You may be sure, sir, that I have very good grounds before I come to an opinion. I have seen the boy again and again with his bundle. Every day, and sometimes twice a day, I have been able--but wait a moment, Dr. Watson. Do my eyes deceive me, or is there at the present moment something moving upon that hill- side?"
It was several miles off, but I could distinctly see a small dark dot against the dull green and gray.
"Come, sir, come!" cried Frankland, rushing upstairs. "You will see with your own eyes and judge for yourself."
The telescope, a formidable instrument mounted upon a tripod, stood upon the flat leads of the house. Frankland clapped his eye to it and gave a cry of satisfaction.
“ Skynd Dem, doktor Watson, skynd Dem, før han forsvinner ! ”
"Quick, Dr. Watson, quick, before he passes over the hill!"
Jo, der var han. Det var sikkert nok at det var den lille gutten, med knyttet hengende over skulderen, som slepte seg opp over høyden. Da han var kommet opp på toppen, kunne jeg et øyeblikk se den pjaltete skikkelsen tegne seg skarpt mot den blå himmelen. Han så seg rundt med et flyktig og stjålent blikk, som en som er redd for å bli forfulgt. Så forsvant han på den annen side av høyden.
There he was, sure enough, a small urchin with a little bundle upon his shoulder, toiling slowly up the hill. When he reached the crest I saw the ragged uncouth figure outlined for an instant against the cold blue sky. He looked round him with a furtive and stealthy air, as one who dreads pursuit. Then he vanished over the hill.
“ Nå, hadde jeg rett ? ”
"Well! Am I right?"
"Certainly, there is a boy who seems to have some secret errand."
"And what the errand is even a county constable could guess. But not one word shall they have from me, and I bind you to secrecy also, Dr. Watson. Not a word! You understand!"
“ Som De ønsker. ”
"Just as you wish."
“ De har behandlet meg skammelig. Når de nærmere omstendighetene blir kjent i saken Frankland mot Regina, tenker jeg det vil gå en indignasjonens bølge over hele landet. Ingenting kunne allikevel bevege meg til å hjelpe politiet på noen slags måte. For det kunne disse slynglene gjerne ha brent meg selv istedenfor mitt bilde. Men De vil da ikke gå ? De må hjelpe meg å tømme en flaske i anledning av dagen. ”
"They have treated me shamefully--shamefully. When the facts come out in Frankland v. Regina I venture to think that a thrill of indignation will run through the country. Nothing would induce me to help the police in any way. For all they cared it might have been me, instead of my effigy, which these rascals burned at the stake. Surely you are not going! You will help me to empty the decanter in honour of this great occasion!"
Men jeg motstod alle hans oppfordringer, og det lyktes meg å overtale ham til ikke å følge meg hjem, slik som han først hadde tenkt. Jeg fulgte veien så lenge han kunne se meg, så tok jeg tvers over moen og la kursen mot den steinete høyden som den lille gutten var forsvunnet bakom. Allting gikk nå som jeg best kunne ønske det, og jeg lovet meg selv at jeg ikke på grunn av mangel på energi eller utholdenhet skulle forspille sjansen som min gode skjebne hadde lagt i min vei.
But I resisted all his solicitations and succeeded in dissuading him from his announced intention of walking home with me. I kept the road as long as his eye was on me, and then I struck off across the moor and made for the stony hill over which the boy had disappeared. Everything was working in my favour, and I swore that it should not be through lack of energy or perseverance that I should miss the chance which fortune had thrown in my way.
Solen holdt allerede på å gå ned da jeg nådde toppen av høyden, og de lange skråningene under meg lå gyldengrønne på den ene siden og grå på den andre. I synsranden lå et lag av dis, ut av de fantastiske formene av Belliver og Vixen klippekammene raget opp. Ikke en lyd hørtes, intet beveget seg i det vide rommet. En stor grå fugl fløy høyt gjennom luften. Den og jeg syntes å være de eneste levende vesenene mellom den veldige himmelhvelvingen og ødet under. Det golde landskapet, følelsen av ensomhet, det hemmelighetsfulle og hastverket i mitt foretagende fylte meg med en illevarslende, gysende fornemmelse. Gutten kunne nå ikke sees noesteds. Men nedenunder meg i en senkning mellom høydene lå en krets av de gamle steinhyttene, og midt inne mellom dem lå der en som hadde såvidt mye tilbake av taket at det kunne yte litt beskyttelse mot veiret. Hjertet hoppet i brystet da jeg oppdaget den. Dette måtte være hulen hvor den fremmede holdt til. Endelig stod jeg på terskelen til hans skjulested; hans hemmelighet var innen min rekkevidde.
The sun was already sinking when I reached the summit of the hill, and the long slopes beneath me were all golden-green on one side and gray shadow on the other. A haze lay low upon the farthest sky-line, out of which jutted the fantastic shapes of Belliver and Vixen Tor. Over the wide expanse there was no sound and no movement. One great gray bird, a gull or curlew, soared aloft in the blue heaven. He and I seemed to be the only living things between the huge arch of the sky and the desert beneath it. The barren scene, the sense of loneliness, and the mystery and urgency of my task all struck a chill into my heart. The boy was nowhere to be seen. But down beneath me in a cleft of the hills there was a circle of the old stone huts, and in the middle of them there was one which retained sufficient roof to act as a screen against the weather. My heart leaped within me as I saw it. This must be the burrow where the stranger lurked. At last my foot was on the threshold of his hiding place--his secret was within my grasp.
Jeg nærmet meg steinhytten med samme forsiktighet som Stapleton, når han med nettet sitt listet seg mot en sommerfugl som hadde slått seg ned, og jeg kunne til min glede straks se at den virkelig hadde vært benyttet til bolig. En smal sti, som nesten ikke kunne sees, førte mellom steinblokkene frem til den forfalne åpningen som gjorde tjeneste som dør. Innenfor hørtes ikke en lyd. Den ukjente mannen lå gjerne på lur der inne, eller kanskje listet han seg om på moen. Mine nerver dirret av spenning ved følelsen av det eventyrlige i stillingen.
As I approached the hut, walking as warily as Stapleton would do when with poised net he drew near the settled butterfly, I satisfied myself that the place had indeed been used as a habitation. A vague pathway among the boulders led to the dilapidated opening which served as a door. All was silent within. The unknown might be lurking there, or he might be prowling on the moor. My nerves tingled with the sense of adventure. Throwing aside my cigarette, I closed my hand upon the butt of my revolver and, walking swiftly up to the door, I looked in. The place was empty.
Jeg kastet sigaretten fra meg, grep fast om revolveren, gikk raskt hen til døren og kikket inn. Hytten var tom, men der var tegn nok som viste at jeg ikke var på feil spor. Det var sikkert nok at det var her mannen holdt til: Et par tepper, rullet inn i en regnkappe, lå på den samme steinhellen hvor de forhistoriske menneskene en gang hadde sovet. På et primitivt ildsted kunne sees aske etter ild. Ved siden av stod en del kokeredskaper og et spann, halvfullt med vann. En haug tomme blikkbokser viste at hytten hadde vært bebodd i noen tid, og da øynene hadde vennet seg bedre til det vekslende lyset, oppdaget jeg i en krok en panne og en halvfull flaske med brennevin. En flat stein midt i hytten tjente som bord, og på dette lå et lite knytte, utvilsomt det samme som jeg hadde sett den lille gutten bære på skulderen gjennom kikkerten. Det inneholdt et brød, en boks med hermetisk nedlagt tunge, og to bokser med syltede ferskener. Da jeg hadde lagt knyttet på plass igjen etter å ha undersøkt innholdet, ble jeg ytterligere spent da jeg så at ved siden av knyttet lå en papirlapp. Jeg tok den straks opp og leste følgende, som var klosset nedrablet med en blyant:
But there were ample signs that I had not come upon a false scent. This was certainly where the man lived. Some blankets rolled in a waterproof lay upon that very stone slab upon which Neolithic man had once slumbered. The ashes of a fire were heaped in a rude grate. Beside it lay some cooking utensils and a bucket half-full of water. A litter of empty tins showed that the place had been occupied for some time, and I saw, as my eyes became accustomed to the checkered light, a pannikin and a half-full bottle of spirits standing in the corner. In the middle of the hut a flat stone served the purpose of a table, and upon this stood a small cloth bundle--the same, no doubt, which I had seen through the telescope upon the shoulder of the boy. It contained a loaf of bread, a tinned tongue, and two tins of preserved peaches. As I set it down again, after having examined it, my heart leaped to see that beneath it there lay a sheet of paper with writing upon it. I raised it, and this was what I read, roughly scrawled in pencil:--
Dr. Watson has gone to Coombe Tracey.
Jeg ble stående et øyeblikk med papiret i hånden, mens jeg forsøkte å finne ut av hva meningen med denne korte meldingen kunne være. Det var altså meg og ikke sir Henry som ble overvåket av denne mannen. Han hadde ikke fulgt meg selv, men han hadde latt en annen — den lille gutten kanskje — passe på meg, og dette var hans melding. Sannsynligvis hadde jeg ikke rørt meg av stedet, siden jeg kom hit til moen, uten at det var iakttatt og meldt. Jeg hadde stadig denne følelsen av en usynlig makt, et fint nett, som med usedvanlig dyktighet og sluhet ble trukket omkring oss. Men det ble gjort så fint, at en først i aller ytterste øyeblikk selv merket at en var viklet inn i maskene.
For a minute I stood there with the paper in my hands thinking out the meaning of this curt message. It was I, then, and not Sir Henry, who was being dogged by this secret man. He had not followed me himself, but he had set an agent--the boy, perhaps--upon my track, and this was his report. Possibly I had taken no step since I had been upon the moor which had not been observed and reported. Always there was this feeling of an unseen force, a fine net drawn round us with infinite skill and delicacy, holding us so lightly that it was only at some supreme moment that one realized that one was indeed entangled in its meshes.
Når jeg hadde funnet én melding, kunne der vel kanskje finnes flere slike. Jeg undersøkte hytten. Men der var ikke et spor å oppdage av noe som helst slikt; heller ikke kunne jeg finne noe som kunne gi meg en mening om hva slags menneske det var som levde på dette merkelige stedet, og hvorfor han gjorde det. Det eneste jeg kunne slutte meg til, var at han måtte leve et meget spartansk liv og bry seg lite om livets hygge og velvære. Når jeg tenkte på det voldsomme regnveiret man ofte hadde her, og så det åpne tak, forstod jeg hvor sterkt og urokkelig det forsett måtte være som hadde kunnet holde ham på dette ugjestmilde stedet. Var han fiende, eller var han kanskje vår beskyttende engel ? Jeg lovet meg selv at jeg ikke ville forlate hytten før jeg hadde brakt dette på det rene.
If there was one report there might be others, so I looked round the hut in search of them. There was no trace, however, of anything of the kind, nor could I discover any sign which might indicate the character or intentions of the man who lived in this singular place, save that he must be of Spartan habits and cared little for the comforts of life. When I thought of the heavy rains and looked at the gaping roof I understood how strong and immutable must be the purpose which had kept him in that inhospitable abode. Was he our malignant enemy, or was he by chance our guardian angel? I swore that I would not leave the hut until I knew.
Solen utenfor var kommet lavt på himmelen, og den vestlige himmelranden strålte i purpur og gull. Gjenskinnet ble kastet tilbake i røde flak fra Grimpenmyrens småpytter i det fjerne. Man kunne se de to tårnene på Baskerville herregård, og røkbanker viste langt ute hvor landsbyen Grimpen lå. Mellom de to lå Stapletons hus bak høydedraget. Alt var mildt, bløtt og fredelig i den gyldne lysningen fra solnedgangen. Men skjønt jeg så all denne skjønnheten, følte min sjel dog ikke noe av naturens fred, men bevet i ubestemte anelser for møtet som hvert øyeblikk kom nærmere. Med spente nerver, men fast og bestemt i mitt forsett, satt jeg i den mørke bakgrunnen i hytten, og ventet tålmodig på at innehaveren skulle komme.
Outside the sun was sinking low and the west was blazing with scarlet and gold. Its reflection was shot back in ruddy patches by the distant pools which lay amid the great Grimpen Mire. There were the two towers of Baskerville Hall, and there a distant blur of smoke which marked the village of Grimpen. Between the two, behind the hill, was the house of the Stapletons. All was sweet and mellow and peaceful in the golden evening light, and yet as I looked at them my soul shared none of the peace of nature but quivered at the vagueness and the terror of that interview which every instant was bringing nearer. With tingling nerves, but a fixed purpose, I sat in the dark recess of the hut and waited with sombre patience for the coming of its tenant.
Endelig hørte jeg ham. Langt borte lød fotslagene på steingrunnen, de kom nærmere og nærmere. Jeg trakk meg tilbake i den mørkeste kroken med revolveren i halvspenn; jeg besluttet meg for ikke å røpe meg selv før jeg hadde hatt leilighet til å se noe av den fremmede. Det ble en lang pause, som viste at han hadde stoppet opp. Så begynte atter fottrinnene å nærme seg, og en skygge falt inn gjennom hyttens åpning.
And then at last I heard him. Far away came the sharp clink of a boot striking upon a stone. Then another and yet another, coming nearer and nearer. I shrank back into the darkest corner, and cocked the pistol in my pocket, determined not to discover myself until I had an opportunity of seeing something of the stranger. There was a long pause which showed that he had stopped. Then once more the footsteps approached and a shadow fell across the opening of the hut.
"It is a lovely evening, my dear Watson," said a well-known voice. "I really think that you will be more comfortable outside than in."
Tolvte kapitel. Dødsfallet på moen.
Chapter 12 Death on the Moor
For a moment or two I sat breathless, hardly able to believe my ears. Then my senses and my voice came back to me, while a crushing weight of responsibility seemed in an instant to be lifted from my soul. That cold, incisive, ironical voice could belong to but one man in all the world.
“ Holmes ! ” utbrøt jeg.
"Holmes!" I cried--"Holmes!"
"Come out," said he, "and please be careful with the revolver."
Da jeg kom ut, satt han på en stein rett utenfor. Hans grå øyne spilte av munterhet da han så mitt forbausede utseende. Han var tynn og medtatt, men like kvikk og aktpågiven som sedvanlig. Det glattrakede ansiktet var brunet av solen og veirbitt av vinden. I sin lette sommerdrakt lignet han en annen turist, og med den katteaktige trangen til personlig properhet som var en av hans karakteristiske egenskaper, hadde han sørget for at hans hud var likeså velpleid og hans skjortebryst likeså fullkomment som om han hadde vært i Baker Street.
I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stone outside, his gray eyes dancing with amusement as they fell upon my astonished features. He was thin and worn, but clear and alert, his keen face bronzed by the sun and roughened by the wind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap he looked like any other tourist upon the moor, and he had contrived, with that cat-like love of personal cleanliness which was one of his characteristics, that his chin should be as smooth and his linen as perfect as if he were in Baker Street.
"I never was more glad to see anyone in my life," said I, as I wrung him by the hand.
“Eller mere overrasket, hva?”
"Or more astonished, eh?"
"Well, I must confess to it."
"The surprise was not all on one side, I assure you. I had no idea that you had found my occasional retreat, still less that you were inside it, until I was within twenty paces of the door."
“Mine fotspor formodentlig?”
"My footprint, I presume?"
“ Nei, Watson. Jeg er redd for at jeg ikke kunne påta meg å gjenkjenne Deres fotspor blant all verdens. Men hvis De virkelig for alvor vil villede meg, så må De kjøpe Deres tobakk et andet sted. Når jeg ser en sigarettstump merket Bradley, Oxford Street, vet jeg straks at min venn Watson er i nærheten. Den ligger der ved siden av stien. De kastet den vel fra Dem i det øyeblikket De stormet inn i den tomme hytten ? ”
"No, Watson; I fear that I could not undertake to recognize your footprint amid all the footprints of the world. If you seriously desire to deceive me you must change your tobacconist; for when I see the stub of a cigarette marked Bradley, Oxford Street, I know that my friend Watson is in the neighbourhood. You will see it there beside the path. You threw it down, no doubt, at that supreme moment when you charged into the empty hut."
“Nettopp.”
"Exactly."
"I thought as much--and knowing your admirable tenacity I was convinced that you were sitting in ambush, a weapon within reach, waiting for the tenant to return. So you actually thought that I was the criminal?"
"I did not know who you were, but I was determined to find out."
"Excellent, Watson! And how did you localize me? You saw me, perhaps, on the night of the convict hunt, when I was so imprudent as to allow the moon to rise behind me?"
“ Ja, jeg så Dem den gangen. ”
"Yes, I saw you then."
"And have no doubt searched all the huts until you came to this one?"
"No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guide where to look."
“ Den gamle herren med kikkerten formodentlig. Jeg kunne ikke forstå hva det var, første gangen jeg så lyset blinke i kikkertens linse. ” Han reiste seg og kastet et blikk inn i hytten. “ Jeg ser at Cartwright har brakt meg litt ny forsyning. Men hva betyr denne seddelen ? De har altså vært i Coombe Tracey ? ”
"The old gentleman with the telescope, no doubt. I could not make it out when first I saw the light flashing upon the lens." He rose and peeped into the hut. "Ha, I see that Cartwright has brought up some supplies. What's this paper? So you have been to Coombe Tracey, have you?"
“Ja.”
"Yes."
“ For å treffe fru Laura Lyons ?
"To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?"
“Nettopp.”
"Exactly."
"Well done! Our researches have evidently been running on parallel lines, and when we unite our results I expect we shall have a fairly full knowledge of the case."
"Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeed the responsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for my nerves. But how in the name of wonder did you come here, and what have you been doing? I thought that you were in Baker Street working out that case of blackmailing."
"That was what I wished you to think."
"Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!" I cried with some bitterness. "I think that I have deserved better at your hands, Holmes."
“ Min kjære venn, De har vært til uvurderlig nytte for meg i denne som i så mange andre saker. De må unnskylde om det kan se ut som om jeg hadde ført Dem bak lyset. Det var virkelig for Deres egen skyld jeg gjorde det. Men da jeg forstod hvilken fare De var utsatt for, tok jeg her ned for selv å undersøke saken. Hadde jeg vært her sammen med sir Henry og Dem, er det klart jeg ville ha sett saken på samme måte som dere, og min nærværelse ville ha advart våre meget farlige motstandere, så de ville ha vært på sin post. Men som det nå er, har jeg kunnet gjøre hva jeg muligens ikke hadde kunnet hvis jeg hadde bodd på Baskerville herregård; jeg har kunnet fortsette å være en ubjent faktor i saken, beredt til å kaste meg avgjørende inn i det kritiske øyeblikk. ”
"My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come down and examine the matter for myself. Had I been with Sir Henry and you it is confident that my point of view would have been the same as yours, and my presence would have warned our very formidable opponents to be on their guard. As it is, I have been able to get about as I could not possibly have done had I been living in the Hall, and I remain an unknown factor in the business, ready to throw in all my weight at a critical moment."
"But why keep me in the dark?"
“ Om De hadde fått vite noe, kunne det kun ha hjulpet oss til at jeg ble røpet. De ville hatt noe å fortelle meg, eller De ville, snill som De er, sørget for å sende meg ett eller annet, og dermed kunne vi ha løpt en stor fare. Jeg tok med meg Cartwright, De husker gutten fra budkontoret. Han har skaffet meg det lille jeg har behøvd — litt mat og en ren snipp. Hva kan man mere ønske seg. Han stilte et par skarpe øyne og et par kvikke ben til min rådighet, og begge deler har vært av uvurderlig nytte. ” “ Mine innberetninger har altså bare vært rent bortkastet arbeide. ”
"For you to know could not have helped us, and might possibly have led to my discovery. You would have wished to tell me something, or in your kindness you would have brought me out some comfort or other, and so an unnecessary risk would be run. I brought Cartwright down with me--you remember the little chap at the express office--and he has seen after my simple wants: a loaf of bread and a clean collar. What does man want more? He has given me an extra pair of eyes upon a very active pair of feet, and both have been invaluable."
"Then my reports have all been wasted!"--My voice trembled as I recalled the pains and the pride with which I had composed them.
Holmes tok en bunke papirer opp av lommen.
Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket.
"Here are your reports, my dear fellow, and very well thumbed, I assure you. I made excellent arrangements, and they are only delayed one day upon their way. I must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal and the intelligence which you have shown over an extraordinarily difficult case."
Jeg hadde ennå ikke helt overvunnet inntrykket av bedraget som var utøvd mot meg, men Holmes ' varme ros satte meg igjen i godt humør. Jeg følte også i mitt hjerte at han hadde rett i det han sa, og at det sikkert var best for oppnåelsen av vårt øyemed at jeg ikke hadde visst om at han befant seg her på moen.
I was still rather raw over the deception which had been practised upon me, but the warmth of Holmes's praise drove my anger from my mind. I felt also in my heart that he was right in what he said and that it was really best for our purpose that I should not have known that he was upon the moor.
“ Det er godt, ” sa han, da han så skyggen forsvinne fra mitt ansikt. “ Fortell meg nå hva resultatet ble av Deres besøk hos fru Laura Lyons; — det var ikke vanskelig å gjette at De var tatt dit for å treffe henne, for jeg er allerede på det rene med at hun er den eneste i Coombe Tracey som vil kunne bli oss til noen nytte i saken. Hadde ikke De tatt dit i dag, hadde jeg sannsynligvis gjort det i morgen. ”
"That's better," said he, seeing the shadow rise from my face. "And now tell me the result of your visit to Mrs. Laura Lyons--it was not difficult for me to guess that it was to see her that you had gone, for I am already aware that she is the one person in Coombe Tracey who might be of service to us in the matter. In fact, if you had not gone to-day it is exceedingly probable that I should have gone to-morrow."
Solen var gått ned, og tusmørket begynte å senke seg over moen. Luften var blitt kald, og vi gikk inn i hytten for å få det litt varmere. Mens vi satt her i dobbeltlyset, fortalte jeg Holmes om min samtale med fru Lyons. Han var så interessert at jeg måtte gjenta flere ting to ganger før han ga seg tilfreds.
The sun had set and dusk was settling over the moor. The air had turned chill and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. There, sitting together in the twilight, I told Holmes of my conversation with the lady. So interested was he that I had to repeat some of it twice before he was satisfied.
"This is most important," said he when I had concluded. "It fills up a gap which I had been unable to bridge, in this most complex affair. You are aware, perhaps, that a close intimacy exists between this lady and the man Stapleton?"
"I did not know of a close intimacy."
"There can be no doubt about the matter. They meet, they write, there is a complete understanding between them. Now, this puts a very powerful weapon into our hands. If I could only use it to detach his wife----"
“Hans kone?”
"His wife?"
"I am giving you some information now, in return for all that you have given me. The lady who has passed here as Miss Stapleton is in reality his wife."
"Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? How could he have permitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?"
"Sir Henry's falling in love could do no harm to anyone except Sir Henry. He took particular care that Sir Henry did not make love to her, as you have yourself observed. I repeat that the lady is his wife and not his sister."
"But why this elaborate deception?"
"Because he foresaw that she would be very much more useful to him in the character of a free woman."
All min instinktmessige mistanke, som jeg hittil ikke hadde uttalt, samlet seg nå om naturforskeren. I denne følelsesløse, bleke mann med stråhatten og sommerfuglenettet begynte jeg å se noe forferdelig, et vesen med en uendelig tålmodighet og utholdenhet, med et smilende ansikt og en morders hjerte.
All my unspoken instincts, my vague suspicions, suddenly took shape and centred upon the naturalist. In that impassive, colourless man, with his straw hat and his butterfly-net, I seemed to see something terrible--a creature of infinite patience and craft, with a smiling face and a murderous heart.
"It is he, then, who is our enemy--it is he who dogged us in London?"
“ Slik tyder jeg gåten. ”
"So I read the riddle."
"And the warning--it must have come from her!"
“Nettopp.”
"Exactly."
The shape of some monstrous villainy, half seen, half guessed, loomed through the darkness which had girt me so long.
"But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that the woman is his wife?"
“ Fordi han selv forglemte seg så meget den gangen De først traff ham, at han fortalte Dem en del sannferdige opplysninger om sitt liv. Jeg er sikker på at han har angret det sterkt mange ganger siden. Han var en gang skolebestyrer i det nordlige England. Nå vet De at det finnes visse skolekontorer hvor man kan skaffe seg opplysninger om alle som har tilhørt lærerstanden. Etter å ha anstilt noen undersøkelser brakte jeg på det rene at en skole var lukket under mindre hyggelige forhold, og at eieren — hva han het, kan jo være det samme — var forsvunnet med sin kone. Beskrivelsen stemte. Da jeg så også fikk vite at vedkommende hadde vært entomolog, var jeg ikke lenger i tvil om den virkelige sammenhengen. ”
"Because he so far forgot himself as to tell you a true piece of autobiography upon the occasion when he first met you, and I dare say he has many a time regretted it since. He was once a schoolmaster in the north of England. Now, there is no one more easy to trace than a schoolmaster. There are scholastic agencies by which one may identify any man who has been in the profession. A little investigation showed me that a school had come to grief under atrocious circumstances, and that the man who had owned it--the name was different--had disappeared with his wife. The descriptions agreed. When I learned that the missing man was devoted to entomology the identification was complete."
The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by the shadows.
"If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs. Laura Lyons come in?" I asked.
“ Det er nettopp et av de punktene som De ved Deres undersøkelser selv har bidratt til å kaste lys over. Deres samtale med denne dame har oppklart adskillig. Jeg hadde ingen kunnskap om den påtenkte skilsmissen mellom henne og hennes mann. Hun trodde at Stapleton var ugift og regnet naturligvis med å bli hans hustru. ”
"That is one of the points upon which your own researches have shed a light. Your interview with the lady has cleared the situation very much. I did not know about a projected divorce between herself and her husband. In that case, regarding Stapleton as an unmarried man, she counted no doubt upon becoming his wife."
"And when she is undeceived?"
"Why, then we may find the lady of service. It must be our first duty to see her--both of us--to-morrow. Don't you think, Watson, that you are away from your charge rather long? Your place should be at Baskerville Hall."
The last red streaks had faded away in the west and night had settled upon the moor. A few faint stars were gleaming in a violet sky.
"One last question, Holmes," I said, as I rose. "Surely there is no need of secrecy between you and me. What is the meaning of it all? What is he after?"
Holmes svarte lavt:
Holmes's voice sank as he answered:----
“ Det er mord, Watson, mord med kaldt overlegg. Men spørr meg ikke om mere. Jeg spinner mitt garn fastere og fastere om ham, som han selv spinner sitt omkring sir Henry; — ved Deres hjelp er han nå også nesten i min makt. Vi løper kun en eneste fare. Han kunne slå slaget, før vi er klare til kampen. ” “ Om et par dager vil alt være klart, men inntil da må De våke omhyggelig over sir Henry, som en mor passer sitt barn. — Ja, jeg hadde aller helst sett at De aldeles ikke hadde forlatt sir Henry i dag, om enn Deres hverv her fullt ga Dem rett til det. — Hysj ! ”
"It is murder, Watson--refined, cold-blooded, deliberate murder. Do not ask me for particulars. My nets are closing upon him, even as his are upon Sir Henry, and with your help he is already almost at my mercy. There is but one danger which can threaten us. It is that he should strike before we are ready to do so. Another day--two at the most--and I have my case complete, but until then guard your charge as closely as ever a fond mother watched her ailing child. Your mission to-day has justified itself, and yet I could almost wish that you had not left his side. Hark!"
A terrible scream--a prolonged yell of horror and anguish--burst out of the silence of the moor. That frightful cry turned the blood to ice in my veins.
"Oh, my God!" I gasped. "What is it? What does it mean?"
Holmes had sprung to his feet, and I saw his dark, athletic outline at the door of the hut, his shoulders stooping, his head thrust forward, his face peering into the darkness.
“ Stille, stille ! ” hvisket han.
"Hush!" he whispered. "Hush!"
The cry had been loud on account of its vehemence, but it had pealed out from somewhere far off on the shadowy plain. Now it burst upon our ears, nearer, louder, more urgent than before.
"Where is it?" Holmes whispered; and I knew from the thrill of his voice that he, the man of iron, was shaken to the soul. "Where is it, Watson?"
"There, I think." I pointed into the darkness.
"No, there!"
Again the agonized cry swept through the silent night, louder and much nearer than ever. And a new sound mingled with it, a deep, muttered rumble, musical and yet menacing, rising and falling like the low, constant murmur of the sea.
"The hound!" cried Holmes. "Come, Watson, come! Great heavens, if we are too late!"
He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I had followed at his heels. But now from somewhere among the broken ground immediately in front of us there came one last despairing yell, and then a dull, heavy thud. We halted and listened. Not another sound broke the heavy silence of the windless night.
I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted. He stamped his feet upon the ground.
“ Han har overrumplet oss, Watson. Vi kommer for sent. ”
"He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late."
"No, no, surely not!"
"Fool that I was to hold my hand. And you, Watson, see what comes of abandoning your charge! But, by Heaven, if the worst has happened, we'll avenge him!"
Vi ilte blindt avsted gjennom mørket, snublet over steiner og banet oss vei gjennom det tette buskaset, oppad skrenter og ned gjennom kløfter, hele tiden rett frem i retningen hvor de redselsfulle skrikene var kommet fra. Holmes så seg ivrig omkring, men moen hvilte i tett mørke, og intet beveget seg på dens golde overflate.
Blindly we ran through the gloom, blundering against boulders, forcing our way through gorse bushes, panting up hills and rushing down slopes, heading always in the direction whence those dreadful sounds had come. At every rise Holmes looked eagerly round him, but the shadows were thick upon the moor, and nothing moved upon its dreary face.
"Can you see anything?"
“Nei.”
"Nothing."
“ Men hva er det ? ”
"But, hark, what is that?"
Lyden av et svakt sukk hadde nådd våre ører. Nå hørte vi det igjen på venstre side av oss. En loddrett fjellvegg hellet her utover en flate, overstrødd av steinblokker. Mellom steinene så vi en mørk, uregelmessig gjenstand. Da vi kom nærmere, begynte den å anta en bestemt form. Til slutt viste det seg at det var en mann som lå nesegrus i en forferdelig forvridd stilling. Skikkelsen gjorde et så selsomt inntrykk at det var vanskelig å forestille seg at sukket vi hadde hørt, hadde vært hans siste åndedrett. Ingen lyd, ingen bevegelse kunne spores lengre. Holmes la sin hånd på ham, men tok den straks til seg igjen med et redselsutbrudd. Lysskjæret fra en fyrstikk falt i det samme på hans blodplettede fingre og på offerets knuste hjerneskalle, som blodet var rent ut av i en stor, uhyggelig pøl. Og det falt på noe annet, som fylte våre hjerter med sorg — sir Henry Baskervilles legeme.
A low moan had fallen upon our ears. There it was again upon our left! On that side a ridge of rocks ended in a sheer cliff which overlooked a stone-strewn slope. On its jagged face was spread-eagled some dark, irregular object. As we ran towards it the vague outline hardened into a definite shape. It was a prostrate man face downward upon the ground, the head doubled under him at a horrible angle, the shoulders rounded and the body hunched together as if in the act of throwing a somersault. So grotesque was the attitude that I could not for the instant realize that that moan had been the passing of his soul. Not a whisper, not a rustle, rose now from the dark figure over which we stooped. Holmes laid his hand upon him, and held it up again, with an exclamation of horror. The gleam of the match which he struck shone upon his clotted fingers and upon the ghastly pool which widened slowly from the crushed skull of the victim. And it shone upon something else which turned our hearts sick and faint within us--the body of Sir Henry Baskerville!
There was no chance of either of us forgetting that peculiar ruddy tweed suit--the very one which he had worn on the first morning that we had seen him in Baker Street. We caught the one clear glimpse of it, and then the match flickered and went out, even as the hope had gone out of our souls. Holmes groaned, and his face glimmered white through the darkness.
"The brute! the brute!" I cried with clenched hands. "Oh Holmes, I shall never forgive myself for having left him to his fate."
“ Jeg er nok mere å bebreide enn De, Watson. Jeg har satt hans liv på spill bare for å skaffe et riktig pent bevismateriale. Det er det verste jeg til nå har vært utsatt for. Men hvordan kunne jeg vite, hvordan kunne jeg vite, at han etter alle mine advarsler ville våge livet ved å gi seg alene ut på moen. ”
"I am more to blame than you, Watson. In order to have my case well rounded and complete, I have thrown away the life of my client. It is the greatest blow which has befallen me in my career. But how could I know--how could l know--that he would risk his life alone upon the moor in the face of all my warnings?"
“ At vi skulle høre skrikene hans — disse forferdelige skrikene — og ikke kunne hjelpe ham ! Men hvor er dette udyr av en hund som drev ham i døden ? Det ligger vel i dette øyeblikk på lur et eller andet sted mellom klippene her. Og Stapleton, hvor er han ? Han skal stå til ansvar for denne udåden. ”
"That we should have heard his screams--my God, those screams!--and yet have been unable to save him! Where is this brute of a hound which drove him to his death? It may be lurking among these rocks at this instant. And Stapleton, where is he? He shall answer for this deed."
“ Ja, det skal han. Det skal jeg sørge for. Onkel og nevø begge myrdet; den ene ble skremt til døde bare ved synet av udyret, som han tok for et overnaturlig vesen, og den annen ble drevet like i døden under sin ville flukt for å redde seg fra det ! Men nå gjelder det å bevise forbindelsen mellom ham og udyret. Når vi unntar hva vi har hørt, kan vi jo ikke en gang sverge på at det virkelig eksisterer noe slikt vesen. Sir Henrys død skyldes åpenbart et fall. Men med Guds hjelp skal den gode mann, hvor slu han enn er, være i min makt før ennå en dag er gått til ende. ”
"He shall. I will see to that. Uncle and nephew have been murdered--the one frightened to death by the very sight of a beast which he thought to be supernatural, the other driven to his end in his wild flight to escape from it. But now we have to prove the connection between the man and the beast. Save from what we heard, we cannot even swear to the existence of the latter, since Sir Henry has evidently died from the fall. But, by heavens, cunning as he is, the fellow shall be in my power before another day is past!"
Med sorg og harme i hjertene stod vi på hver vår side av det mishandlede legemet, overveldet av den plutselige og uopprettelige ulykken som skulle bli en så sørgelig avslutning på våre langvarige og oppslitende anstrengelser. Da månen atter kom opp, klatret vi opp på toppen av klippeavsatsen som vår stakkars venn hadde falt utover. Fra det høyeste punktet her kunne vi se ut over moen. Langt borte i retning av Grimpen skinte et enslig lys. Det kunne bare komme fra Stapletons ensomme hus. Med en bitter forbannelse truet jeg med neven mot det og sa:
We stood with bitter hearts on either side of the mangled body, overwhelmed by this sudden and irrevocable disaster which had brought all our long and weary labours to so piteous an end. Then, as the moon rose we climbed to the top of the rocks over which our poor friend had fallen, and from the summit we gazed out over the shadowy moor, half silver and half gloom. Far away, miles off, in the direction of Grimpen, a single steady yellow light was shining. It could only come from the lonely abode of the Stapletons. With a bitter curse I shook my fist at it as I gazed.
“ Hvorfor ikke ta ham med det samme ? ”
"Why should we not seize him at once?"
"Our case is not complete. The fellow is wary and cunning to the last degree. It is not what we know, but what we can prove. If we make one false move the villain may escape us yet."
"What can we do?"
"There will be plenty for us to do to-morrow. To-night we can only perform the last offices to our poor friend."
Together we made our way down the precipitous slope and approached the body, black and clear against the silvered stones. The agony of those contorted limbs struck me with a spasm of pain and blurred my eyes with tears.
"We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all the way to the Hall. Good heavens, are you mad?"
He had uttered a cry and bent over the body. Now he was dancing and laughing and wringing my hand. Could this be my stern, self-contained friend? These were hidden fires, indeed!
"A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!"
“Skjegg!”
"A beard?"
"It is not the baronet--it is--why, it is my neighbour, the convict!"
Med feberaktig hast snudde vi liket helt over, og skjegget tegnet seg tydelig og bestemt i det kalde, klare måneskinnet. Den lave pannen og de innsunkne, dyriske øyne kunne ikke etterlate noen som helst tvil. Det var virkelig det samme ansiktet som hadde stirret på meg over klippen i skjæret fra lyset, den rømte fangen Seldens ansikt.
With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and that dripping beard was pointing up to the cold, clear moon. There could be no doubt about the beetling forehead, the sunken animal eyes. It was indeed the same face which had glared upon me in the light of the candle from over the rock--the face of Selden, the criminal.
I samme øyeblikk sto alt klart for meg. Jeg husket at sir Henry hadde fortalt meg at han hadde skjenket Barrymore sine gamle klær. Barrymore hadde benyttet seg av dette for å hjelpe Selden å flykte. Støvlene, skjorten, kappen, alt hadde tilhørt sir Henry. Hans skjebne var sørgelig nok, men denne mannen hadde da i alle fall fortjent døden etter sitt lands lover. Jeg fortalte Holmes hvordan sammenhengen var, og mitt hjerte strømmet over av taknemmelighet og glede.
Then in an instant it was all clear to me. I remembered how the baronet had told me that he had handed his old wardrobe to Barrymore. Barrymore had passed it on in order to help Selden in his escape. Boots, shirt, cap--it was all Sir Henry's. The tragedy was still black enough, but this man had at least deserved death by the laws of his country. I told Holmes how the matter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulness and joy.
“ Klærne har altså vært skyld i denne stakkars mannens død, ” sa han. “ Det er klart at hunden er blitt ledet på sporet ved hjelp av en annen av sir Henrys ting — sannsynligvis den støvelen som forsvant fra hotellet —; hunden har så jaget ham lukt i døden. Der er imidlertid en besynderlighet. Hvordan kunne Selden i mørket vite at hunden var etter ham ? ”
"Then the clothes have been the poor devil's death," said he. "It is clear enough that the hound has been laid on from some article of Sir Henry's--the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in all probability--and so ran this man down. There is one very singular thing, however: How came Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was on his trail?"
“ Han hørte den. ”
"He heard him."
“ Å høre en hund på moen ville ikke hos en så herdet mann som denne fangen fremkalle et slikt redselsanfall, slik at han ville utsette seg for å bli fakket ved å skrike i vilden sky om hjelp. Da han skrek, må han ha sprunget et langt stykke etter at han hadde oppdaget at hunden var etter ham. Men hvordan kunne han vite det ? ”
"To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard man like this convict into such a paroxysm of terror that he would risk recapture by screaming wildly for help. By his cries he must have run a long way after he knew the animal was on his track. How did he know?"
"A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that all our conjectures are correct --"
“ Jeg forutsetter ingenting. ”
"I presume nothing."
"Well, then, why this hound should be loose to-night. I suppose that it does not always run loose upon the moor. Stapleton would not let it go unless he had reason to think that Sir Henry would be there."
“ Den vanskeligheten jeg nevnte, er den verste å oppklare. Det vil visst nok ikke vare så lenge før vi får en forklaring på den De nevnte, men min vil sannsynligvis bestandig bli en uløst gåte. Men spørsmålet er nå: Hva skal vi gjøre med dette ulykkelige menneskets lik ? Vi kan ikke la det bli liggende her til bytte for ravn og rev. ”
"My difficulty is the more formidable of the two, for I think that we shall very shortly get an explanation of yours, while mine may remain forever a mystery. The question now is, what shall we do with this poor wretch's body? We cannot leave it here to the foxes and the ravens."
"I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we can communicate with the police."
"Exactly. I have no doubt that you and I could carry it so far. Halloa, Watson, what's this? It's the man himself, by all that's wonderful and audacious! Not a word to show your suspicions--not a word, or my plans crumble to the ground."
A figure was approaching us over the moor, and I saw the dull red glow of a cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I could distinguish the dapper shape and jaunty walk of the naturalist. He stopped when he saw us, and then came on again.
“ Er De, doktor Watson, her ? Det var virkelig den siste mann jeg hadde ventet å treffe her på moen på denne tid av døgnet. Men kjære Dem, hva er det ? Er noen kommet til skade ? Det er da vel ikke vår venn, sir Henry ? ” Han trengte seg frem bak meg og lente seg ned over den døde mannen. Jeg hørte ham trekke pusten tungt og langt, og sigaren falt ut av hans hånd.
"Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last man that I should have expected to see out on the moor at this time of night. But, dear me, what's this? Somebody hurt? Not--don't tell me that it is our friend Sir Henry!" He hurried past me and stooped over the dead man. I heard a sharp intake of his breath and the cigar fell from his fingers.
"Who--who's this?" he stammered.
"It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown."
Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supreme effort he had overcome his amazement and his disappointment. He looked sharply from Holmes to me.
“ For en skrekkelig hendelse ! Hvordan gikk det for seg ? ”
"Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?"
"He appears to have broken his neck by falling over these rocks. My friend and I were strolling on the moor when we heard a cry."
"I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I was uneasy about Sir Henry."
"Why about Sir Henry in particular?" I could not help asking.
“ Jeg hadde ventet at han skulle komme over til oss. Da han ikke kom, ble jeg forundret og naturligvis engstelig for at det kunne være tilstøtt ham noe, da jeg hørte skrikene ute på moen. Hørte De forresten noe annet enn skrikene ? ” spurte han, i det hans øyne igjen vandret fra mitt ansikt til Holmes '.
"Because I had suggested that he should come over. When he did not come I was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed for his safety when I heard cries upon the moor. By the way"--his eyes darted again from my face to Holmes's--"did you hear anything else besides a cry?"
"No," said Holmes; "did you?"
“Nei.”
"No."
“Hva mener De da?”
"What do you mean, then?"
"Oh, you know the stories that the peasants tell about a phantom hound, and so on. It is said to be heard at night upon the moor. I was wondering if there were any evidence of such a sound to-night."
"We heard nothing of the kind," said I.
“Og hva mener De om dette stakkars menneskets død?”
"And what is your theory of this poor fellow's death?"
"I have no doubt that anxiety and exposure have driven him off his head. He has rushed about the moor in a crazy state and eventually fallen over here and broken his neck."
"That seems the most reasonable theory," said Stapleton, and he gave a sigh which I took to indicate his relief. "What do you think about it, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
Min venn bukket høflig.
My friend bowed his compliments.
"You are quick at identification," said he.
"We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watson came down. You are in time to see a tragedy."
"Yes, indeed. I have no doubt that my friend's explanation will cover the facts. I will take an unpleasant remembrance back to London with me to-morrow."
“ De reiser altså tilbake i morgen ? ”
"Oh, you return to-morrow?"
"That is my intention."
"I hope your visit has cast some light upon those occurrences which have puzzled us?"
Holmes trakk på skuldrene.
Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
"One cannot always have the success for which one hopes. An investigator needs facts, and not legends or rumours. It has not been a satisfactory case."
My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner. Stapleton still looked hard at him. Then he turned to me.
"I would suggest carrying this poor fellow to my house, but it would give my sister such a fright that I do not feel justified in doing it. I think that if we put something over his face he will be safe until morning."
And so it was arranged. Resisting Stapleton's offer of hospitality, Holmes and I set off to Baskerville Hall, leaving the naturalist to return alone. Looking back we saw the figure moving slowly away over the broad moor, and behind him that one black smudge on the silvered slope which showed where the man was lying who had come so horribly to his end.
Chapter 13 Fixing the Nets
"We're at close grips at last," said Holmes as we walked together across the moor. "What a nerve the fellow has! How he pulled himself together in the face of what must have been a paralyzing shock when he found that the wrong man had fallen a victim to his plot. I told you in London, Watson, and I tell you now again, that we have never had a foeman more worthy of our steel."
"I am sorry that he has seen you."
"And so was I at first. But there was no getting out of it."
"What effect do you think it will have upon his plans now that he knows you are here?"
"It may cause him to be more cautious, or it may drive him to desperate measures at once. Like most clever criminals, he may be too confident in his own cleverness and imagine that he has completely deceived us."
"Why should we not arrest him at once?"
“ Min kjære Watson, De er født som en handlingens mann. Deres første innskytelse er alltid å gjøre noe energisk. Men sett nå at vi lot ham arrestere i natt, hvor meget lengre ville vi vel være kommet med det ? Vi ville ikke kunne skaffe noe bevis mot ham. Det er denne djevelske listigheten ved det. Dersom han handlet gjennom et menneskelig vesen, kunne vi alltid skaffe bevis mot ham, men selv om det lyktes oss å bringe for dagen denne kjempehunden, ville det ikke hjelpe oss det minste til å få lagt strikken om halsen til dens herre. ”
"My dear Watson, you were born to be a man of action. Your instinct is always to do something energetic. But supposing, for argument's sake, that we had him arrested to-night, what on earth the better off should we be for that? We could prove nothing against him. There's the devilish cunning of it! If he were acting through a human agent we could get some evidence, but if we were to drag this great dog to the light of day it would not help us in putting a rope round the neck of its master."
"Surely we have a case."
"Not a shadow of one--only surmise and conjecture. We should be laughed out of court if we came with such a story and such evidence."
“ Men sir Charles Baskervilles død ? ”
"There is Sir Charles's death."
“ Han ble funnet død, uten at der var det minste spor av vold på liket. De og jeg vet at han døde av redsel, og vi vet også hva han ble skremt av; men hvordan skal vi kunne overbevise tolv dumme jurymenn om det ? Hvilke spor er det etter denne hunden ? Hvor er merkene etter dens tenner ? Naturligvis biter ikke en hund i et lik, og sir Charles var død før bestet kom over ham. Men alt dette må vi bevise, og det er vi ikke i stand til. ”
"Found dead without a mark upon him. You and I know that he died of sheer fright, and we know also what frightened him; but how are we to get twelve stolid jurymen to know it? What signs are there of a hound? Where are the marks of its fangs? Of course we know that a hound does not bite a dead body and that Sir Charles was dead before ever the brute overtook him. But we have to prove all this, and we are not in a position to do it."
“Men nå i natt da?”
"Well, then, to-night?"
“ Vi er ikke kommet synderlig lenger nå. Det var jo ikke noen direkte forbindelse mellom hunden og denne manns død nå heller. Vi har jo aldri sett hunden. Vi hørte den, men vi kan jo ikke bevise at den forfulgte denne mannens spor. Det kan ikke påvises noen som helst fornuftig beveggrunn. Nei, min gode venn, vi må forsone oss med kjennsgjerningen at vi ennå savner tilstrekkelige beviser, men at det vil lønne møyen å utsette oss for en hvilken som helst fare for å skaffe dem. ”
"We are not much better off to-night. Again, there was no direct connection between the hound and the man's death. We never saw the hound. We heard it; but we could not prove that it was running upon this man's trail. There is a complete absence of motive. No, my dear fellow; we must reconcile ourselves to the fact that we have no case at present, and that it is worth our while to run any risk in order to establish one."
"And how do you propose to do so?"
"I have great hopes of what Mrs. Laura Lyons may do for us when the position of affairs is made clear to her. And I have my own plan as well. Sufficient for to-morrow is the evil thereof; but I hope before the day is past to have the upper hand at last."
I could draw nothing further from him, and he walked, lost in thought, as far as the Baskerville gates.
“ Går De med inn ? ”
"Are you coming up?"
“ Ja, jeg kan ikke se at det er noen grunn til å holde meg skjult lengre. Men et ord til slutt, Watson ! Si ingenting til sir Henry om hunden. La ham tro at Seldens død er foregått som Stapleton ville ha oss til å tro. Han vil da være mindre nervøs når han skal undergå den store prøven i morgen; husker jeg ikke feil, har De vist i Deres innberetning fortalt at han skal til middag med disse menneskene i morgen. ”
"Yes; I see no reason for further concealment. But one last word, Watson. Say nothing of the hound to Sir Henry. Let him think that Selden's death was as Stapleton would have us believe. He will have a better nerve for the ordeal which he will have to undergo to-morrow, when he is engaged, if I remember your report aright, to dine with these people."
"And so am I."
"Then you must excuse yourself and he must go alone. That will be easily arranged. And now, if we are too late for dinner, I think that we are both ready for our suppers."
Trettende kapitel. Garnene trekkes sammen.
SIR Henry Baskerville ble mere glad enn overrasket ved synet av Sherlock Holmes, for han hadde i noen dager allerede antatt at begivenhetene nå hadde artet seg således at de ville tvinge ham ned hit fra London. Han satte dog store øyne da han så at min venn ikke hadde det minste reisetøy, og ikke ga noen som helst forklaring på hvorfor han ikke hadde det. Vi skaffet ham straks alt fornødent, og ved det sildige aftensmåltidet meddelte vi sir Henry så meget om våre opplevelser som vi fant det ønskelig å la ham få vite. Men først måtte jeg oppfylle den ubehagelige plikt å underrette Barrymore og hans hustru om Seldens død. For ham var budskapet visstnok en ublandet trøst, men hun gråt sårt i sitt forklede. For alle andre hadde han kun vært det brutale menneske, halvt et dyr og halvt en djevel, men for henne ble han bestandig ved å være den lille viltre gutt som hun mintes fra den gang hun selv var en liten pike, barnet, som hadde klynget seg til henne. Slett må også den mann være som ikke har en kvinne til å sørge over seg.
Sir Henry was more pleased than surprised to see Sherlock Holmes, for he had for some days been expecting that recent events would bring him down from London. He did raise his eyebrows, however, when he found that my friend had neither any luggage nor any explanations for its absence. Between us we soon supplied his wants, and then over a belated supper we explained to the baronet as much of our experience as it seemed desirable that he should know. But first I had the unpleasant duty of breaking the news to Barrymore and his wife. To him it may have been an unmitigated relief, but she wept bitterly in her apron. To all the world he was the man of violence, half animal and half demon; but to her he always remained the little wilful boy of her own girlhood, the child who had clung to her hand. Evil indeed is the man who has not one woman to mourn him.
“ Jeg har gått her i huset og sturet hele dagen siden Watson reiste imorges, ” sa sir Henry. “ Jeg synes virkelig jeg fortjener ros fordi jeg har holdt mitt løfte. Hvis jeg ikke hadde lovet at jeg ikke skulle gå ut alene, ville jeg ha kunnet tilbringe en langt hyggeligere aften, for jeg fikk bud fra Stapletons om å komme over til dem. ”
"I've been moping in the house all day since Watson went off in the morning," said the baronet. "I guess I should have some credit, for I have kept my promise. If I hadn't sworn not to go about alone I might have had a more lively evening, for I had a message from Stapleton asking me over there."
"I have no doubt that you would have had a more lively evening," said Holmes drily. "By the way, I don't suppose you appreciate that we have been mourning over you as having broken your neck?"
Sir Henry satte store øyne. “ Hva mener De ? ”
Sir Henry opened his eyes. "How was that?"
"This poor wretch was dressed in your clothes. I fear your servant who gave them to him may get into trouble with the police."
"That is unlikely. There was no mark on any of them, as far as I know."
“ Det er heldig for ham, ja det er virkelig heldig for dere alle, for I har alle vært på den vrange side av loven i denne saken. Jeg er ikke sikker på om ikke min første plikt som en samvittighetsfull detektiv burde være å arrestere hele huset. Watsons innberetninger er meget kompromitterende dokumenter. ”
"That's lucky for him--in fact, it's lucky for all of you, since you are all on the wrong side of the law in this matter. I am not sure that as a conscientious detective my first duty is not to arrest the whole household. Watson's reports are most incriminating documents."
"But how about the case?" asked the baronet. "Have you made anything out of the tangle? I don't know that Watson and I are much the wiser since we came down."
"I think that I shall be in a position to make the situation rather more clear to you before long. It has been an exceedingly difficult and most complicated business. There are several points upon which we still want light--but it is coming all the same."
“ Vi har opplevd en ting, som Watson naturligvis alt har fortalt Dem. Vi hørte hunden ute på moen, så jeg kan selv sverge på at alt ikke er bare overtro. Jeg hadde adskillig befatning med slike der borte i vesten, og jeg vet at det er en hund når jeg hører en. Dersom De kan få bukt med den hunden og lagt den i lenke, vil jeg ikke betenke meg på å avlegge ed på at De er den største av alle detektiver. ”
"We've had one experience, as Watson has no doubt told you. We heard the hound on the moor, so I can swear that it is not all empty superstition. I had something to do with dogs when I was out West, and I know one when I hear one. If you can muzzle that one and put him on a chain I'll be ready to swear you are the greatest detective of all time."
"I think I will muzzle him and chain him all right if you will give me your help."
"Whatever you tell me to do I will do."
"Very good; and I will ask you also to do it blindly, without always asking the reason."
“ Som De selv ønsker. ”
"Just as you like."
"If you will do this I think the chances are that our little problem will soon be solved. I have no doubt----"
He stopped suddenly and stared fixedly up over my head into the air. The lamp beat upon his face, and so intent was it and so still that it might have been that of a clear-cut classical statue, a personification of alertness and expectation.
"What is it?" we both cried.
I could see as he looked down that he was repressing some internal emotion. His features were still composed, but his eyes shone with amused exultation.
"Excuse the admiration of a connoisseur," said he as he waved his hand towards the line of portraits which covered the opposite wall. "Watson won't allow that I know anything of art, but that is mere jealousy, because our views upon the subject differ. Now, these are a really very fine series of portraits."
“ Det gleder meg å høre Dem si det, ” sa sir Henry, og så med en viss overraskelse på min venn. “ Jeg gjør ikke fordring på å forstå meg synderlig på kunst; jeg er sikker på at jeg ville bedømme en hest eller en okse bedre enn et maleri. Men jeg trodde ikke at De kunne finne tid til å beskjeftige Dem med denslags. ”
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so," said Sir Henry, glancing with some surprise at my friend. "I don't pretend to know much about these things, and I'd be a better judge of a horse or a steer than of a picture. I didn't know that you found time for such things."
"I know what is good when I see it, and I see it now. That's a Kneller, I'll swear, that lady in the blue silk over yonder, and the stout gentleman with the wig ought to be a Reynolds. They are all family portraits, I presume?"
“Ja, alle sammen.”
"Every one."
“ Vet De navnene på dem ? ”
"Do you know the names?"
"Barrymore has been coaching me in them, and I think I can say my lessons fairly well."
“ Hvem er han med kikkerten ?
"Who is the gentleman with the telescope?"
"That is Rear-Admiral Baskerville, who served under Rodney in the West Indies. The man with the blue coat and the roll of paper is Sir William Baskerville, who was Chairman of Committees of the House of Commons under Pitt."
“Og denne kavaler like mot meg — med den sorte fløyelsdrakten og kniplingene?”
"And this Cavalier opposite to me--the one with the black velvet and the lace?"
"Ah, you have a right to know about him. That is the cause of all the mischief, the wicked Hugo, who started the Hound of the Baskervilles. We're not likely to forget him."
Jeg betraktet portrettet med interesse og ikke uten overraskelse.
I gazed with interest and some surprise upon the portrait.
"Dear me!" said Holmes, "he seems a quiet, meek-mannered man enough, but I dare say that there was a lurking devil in his eyes. I had pictured him as a more robust and ruffianly person."
"There's no doubt about the authenticity, for the name and the date, 1647, are on the back of the canvas."
Holmes sa ikke stort mere, men bildet av den gamle Hugo øvet åpenbart en merkelig tiltrekning på ham, og øynene var under hele måltidet uavbrutt festet på det. Først etter at sir Henry hadde begitt seg inn på sitt værelse, kunne jeg forstå i hvilken retning tankene hans gikk. Med lyset i hånden førte han meg tilbake til den store festsalen og pekte på portrettet som hang, merket av tidens tann, der på veggen.
Holmes said little more, but the picture of the old roysterer seemed to have a fascination for him, and his eyes were continually fixed upon it during supper. It was not until later, when Sir Henry had gone to his room, that I was able to follow the trend of his thoughts. He led me back into the banqueting-hall, his bedroom candle in his hand, and he held it up against the time-stained portrait on the wall.
"Do you see anything there?"
I looked at the broad plumed hat, the curling love-locks, the white lace collar, and the straight, severe face which was framed between them. It was not a brutal countenance, but it was prim, hard, and stern, with a firm-set, thin-lipped mouth, and a coldly intolerant eye.
"Is it like anyone you know?"
"There is something of Sir Henry about the jaw."
"Just a suggestion, perhaps. But wait an instant!" He stood upon a chair, and, holding up the light in his left hand, he curved his right arm over the broad hat and round the long ringlets.
“ Gud i himmelen ! ” utbrøt jeg i største forferdelse.
"Good heavens!" I cried, in amazement.
Stapletons ansikt trådte frem av rammen.
The face of Stapleton had sprung out of the canvas.
"Ha, you see it now. My eyes have been trained to examine faces and not their trimmings. It is the first quality of a criminal investigator that he should see through a disguise."
"But this is marvellous. It might be his portrait."
"Yes, it is an interesting instance of a throwback, which appears to be both physical and spiritual. A study of family portraits is enough to convert a man to the doctrine of reincarnation. The fellow is a Baskerville--that is evident."
“ Med planer om å opptre som arving ? ”
"With designs upon the succession."
“ Nettopp denne hendelsen med maleriet her har forsynt oss med et av leddene i beviskjeden vi aller mest savnet. Nå har vi ham, Watson, nå har vi ham, og jeg tør sverge på at han skal sprelle i vårt garn likeså hjelpeløs som en av hans egne sommerfugler innen morgen aften. En nål, en kork og et kort, og vi innlemmer ham i samlingen i Baker Street ! ”
"Exactly. This chance of the picture has supplied us with one of our most obvious missing links. We have him, Watson, we have him, and I dare swear that before to-morrow night he will be fluttering in our net as helpless as one of his own butterflies. A pin, a cork, and a card, and we add him to the Baker Street collection!" He burst into one of his rare fits of laughter as he turned away from the picture. I have not heard him laugh often, and it has always boded ill to somebody.
I was up betimes in the morning, but Holmes was afoot earlier still, for I saw him as I dressed, coming up the drive.
“ Ja, vi får nok vår dag fullt besatt idag, ” bemerket han og gned sine hender i glede over at endelig kunne det handles. “ Alle garn er nå på plass, og vi har begynt å hale dem inn. Før dagen er til ende, vil det vise seg om vi har fått vår svære, spisskjevete gjedde i garnet, eller om det lykkes den å slippe gjennom maskene. ”
"Yes, we should have a full day to-day," he remarked, and he rubbed his hands with the joy of action. "The nets are all in place, and the drag is about to begin. We'll know before the day is out whether we have caught our big, lean-jawed pike, or whether he has got through the meshes."
"Have you been on the moor already?"
“ Jeg har sendt en rapport fra Grimpen til Princetown om Seldens død. Jeg håper at jeg kan love at ingen av dere skal bli uleiliget i den anledning. Jeg har også satt meg i forbindelse med min trofaste Cartwright, som sikkert ville ha gitt seg til å sture utenfor min hytte som en hund ved sin herres grav hvis jeg ikke hadde underrettet ham om at jeg var i god behold. ”
"I have sent a report from Grimpen to Princetown as to the death of Selden. I think I can promise that none of you will be troubled in the matter. And I have also communicated with my faithful Cartwright, who would certainly have pined away at the door of my hut, as a dog does at his master's grave, if I had not set his mind at rest about my safety."
“ Hva blir det neste skrittet ? ”
"What is the next move?"
"To see Sir Henry. Ah, here he is!"
“ God morgen, Holmes, ” sa sir Henry. “ De minner meg om en general som planlegger et slag sammen med sin stabssjef. ”
"Good morning, Holmes," said the baronet. "You look like a general who is planning a battle with his chief of the staff."
"That is the exact situation. Watson was asking for orders."
“ Det samme gjør jeg. ”
"And so do I."
"Very good. You are engaged, as I understand, to dine with our friends the Stapletons to-night."
"I hope that you will come also. They are very hospitable people, and I am sure that they would be very glad to see you."
"I fear that Watson and I must go to London."
“Til London!”
"To London?"
"Yes, I think that we should be more useful there at the present juncture."
The baronet's face perceptibly lengthened. "I hoped that you were going to see me through this business. The Hall and the moor are not very pleasant places when one is alone."
"My dear fellow, you must trust me implicitly and do exactly what I tell you. You can tell your friends that we should have been happy to have come with you, but that urgent business required us to be in town. We hope very soon to return to Devonshire. Will you remember to give them that message?"
“ Nei, når De endelig vil det sånn — — ”
"If you insist upon it."
“ Vi har ikke noe valg. ”
"There is no alternative, I assure you."
I saw by the baronet's clouded brow that he was deeply hurt by what he regarded as our desertion.
"When do you desire to go?" he asked coldly.
"Immediately after breakfast. We will drive in to Coombe Tracey, but Watson will leave his things as a pledge that he will come back to you. Watson, you will send a note to Stapleton to tell him that you regret that you cannot come."
"I have a good mind to go to London with you," said the baronet. "Why should I stay here alone?"
"Because it is your post of duty. Because you gave me your word that you would do as you were told, and I tell you to stay."
"All right, then, I'll stay."
"One more direction! I wish you to drive to Merripit House. Send back your trap, however, and let them know that you intend to walk home."
“Over moen?”
"To walk across the moor?"
“Ja.”
"Yes."
"But that is the very thing which you have so often cautioned me not to do."
"This time you may do it with safety. If I had not every confidence in your nerve and courage I would not suggest it, but it is essential that you should do it."
"Then I will do it."
"And as you value your life do not go across the moor in any direction save along the straight path which leads from Merripit House to the Grimpen Road, and is your natural way home."
"I will do just what you say."
"Very good. I should be glad to get away as soon after breakfast as possible, so as to reach London in the afternoon."
Jeg var meget forbauset over dette programmet, skjønt jeg husket at Holmes hadde sagt til Stapleton aftenen forut at hans besøk her kun ville vare til neste dag. Det hadde dog ikke falt meg inn at han ville jeg skulle følge med ham, og jeg kunne heller ikke forstå hvordan vi begge kunne være fraværende i et øyeblikk som han selv anså for kritisk. Men jeg hadde jo intet annet å gjøre enn å lystre blindt. Vi tok farvel med vår venn, og et par timer etter var vi ved stasjonen i Coombe Tracey, hvor vi sendte hesten og vognen tilbake. En liten gutt ventet på platformen.
I was much astounded by this programme, though I remembered that Holmes had said to Stapleton on the night before that his visit would terminate next day. It had not crossed my mind, however, that he would wish me to go with him, nor could I understand how we could both be absent at a moment which he himself declared to be critical. There was nothing for it, however, but implicit obedience; so we bade good-bye to our rueful friend, and a couple of hours afterwards we were at the station of Coombe Tracey and had dispatched the trap upon its return journey. A small boy was waiting upon the platform.
“ Er det noen ordre, hr. Holmes ? ”
"Any orders, sir?"
"You will take this train to town, Cartwright. The moment you arrive you will send a wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, in my name, to say that if he finds the pocket-book which I have dropped he is to send it by registered post to Baker Street."
“Ja, hr. Holmes.”
"Yes, sir."
"And ask at the station office if there is a message for me."
The boy returned with a telegram, which Holmes handed to me. It ran: "Wire received. Coming down with unsigned warrant. Arrive five-forty.--LESTRADE."
"That is in answer to mine of this morning. He is the best of the professionals, I think, and we may need his assistance. Now, Watson, I think that we cannot employ our time better than by calling upon your acquaintance, Mrs. Laura Lyons."
Hans slagplan begynte å bli forståelig. Han ville benytte sir Henry til å få Stapleton til å tro at vi virkelig var reist, mens vi ville vende tilbake når det var sannsynlig at vi ville trenges. Når sir Henry omtalte telegrammet fra London hos Stapletons, måtte deres siste mistanke forsvinne. Jeg syntes derfor allerede å kunne se hvordan garnet ble trukket tettere rundt den farlige fisken.
His plan of campaign was beginning to be evident. He would use the baronet in order to convince the Stapletons that we were really gone, while we should actually return at the instant when we were likely to be needed. That telegram from London, if mentioned by Sir Henry to the Stapletons, must remove the last suspicions from their minds. Already I seemed to see our nets drawing closer around that lean-jawed pike.
Fru Laura Lyons var på sitt kontor. Sherlock Holmes åpnet samtalen med en oppriktighet og likefremhet som syntes å overrumple henne fullstendig.
Mrs. Laura Lyons was in her office, and Sherlock Holmes opened his interview with a frankness and directness which considerably amazed her.
"I am investigating the circumstances which attended the death of the late Sir Charles Baskerville," said he. "My friend here, Dr. Watson, has informed me of what you have communicated, and also of what you have withheld in connection with that matter."
"What have I withheld?" she asked defiantly.
"You have confessed that you asked Sir Charles to be at the gate at ten o'clock. We know that that was the place and hour of his death. You have withheld what the connection is between these events."
“ Det er ikke noen forbindelse. ”
"There is no connection."
"In that case the coincidence must indeed be an extraordinary one. But I think that we shall succeed in establishing a connection after all. I wish to be perfectly frank with you, Mrs. Lyons. We regard this case as one of murder, and the evidence may implicate not only your friend Mr. Stapleton, but his wife as well." The lady sprang from her chair.
“ Hans hustru ! ” ropte hun.
"His wife!" she cried.
"The fact is no longer a secret. The person who has passed for his sister is really his wife."
Mrs. Lyons had resumed her seat. Her hands were grasping the arms of her chair, and I saw that the pink nails had turned white with the pressure of her grip.
"His wife!" she said again. "His wife! He is not a married man."
Sherlock Holmes trakk på skuldrene.
Sherlock Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
"Prove it to me! Prove it to me! And if you can do so --!" The fierce flash of her eyes said more than any words.
“ Jeg er kommet for å gjøre det, ” sa Holmes og tok en hel del papirer opp av lommen. “ Her er et fotografi av paret, tatt i New York for fire år siden. Bakpå står “ hr. og fru Vandeleur ”, men det vil ikke være Dem vanskelig å gjenkjenne ham, heller ikke fruen, dersom De har sett henne. Her er tre beskrivelser, skrevet av troverdige vitner, av hr. og fru Vandeleur, som den gang eiet St. Olivers privatskole. Les dem og se om De kan være i noen tvil om at det virkelig er disse menneskene. ”
"I have come prepared to do so," said Holmes, drawing several papers from his pocket. "Here is a photograph of the couple taken in York four years ago. It is indorsed 'Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur,' but you will have no difficulty in recognizing him, and her also, if you know her by sight. Here are three written descriptions by trustworthy witnesses of Mr. and Mrs. Vandeleur, who at that time kept St. Oliver's private school. Read them and see if you can doubt the identity of these people."
She glanced at them, and then looked up at us with the set, rigid face of a desperate woman.
“ Hr. Holmes, ” sa hun, “ denne mannen hadde tilbudt meg ekteskap hvis jeg kunne bli skilt fra min mann. Han har løyet for meg, den skurken, løyet på alle tenkelige måter. Det har ikke vært et sant ord i alt han har sagt meg. Men hvorfor ? Jeg innbilte meg at alt skedde for min egen skyld. Men nå forstår jeg at jeg bare har vært et redskap i hans hånd. Hvorfor skulle jeg holde mitt løfte til ham, som aldri har holdt noen av alle sine løfter til meg ? Hvorfor skal jeg forsøke å verge ham mot følgene av hans onde gjerninger ? Spør meg om hva De vil; jeg skal ikke legge skjul på noe. Men en ting kan jeg sverge på, og det er at da jeg skrev det brevet, hadde jeg ingen anelse om at det kunne føre til noe ondt for den gamle herren, som hadde vært den vennen som var mest snill mot meg av alle. ”
"Mr. Holmes," she said, "this man had offered me marriage on condition that I could get a divorce from my husband. He has lied to me, the villain, in every conceivable way. Not one word of truth has he ever told me. And why--why? I imagined that all was for my own sake. But now I see that I was never anything but a tool in his hands. Why should I preserve faith with him who never kept any with me? Why should I try to shield him from the consequences of his own wicked acts? Ask me what you like, and there is nothing which I shall hold back. One thing I swear to you, and that is that when I wrote the letter I never dreamed of any harm to the old gentleman, who had been my kindest friend."
“ Jeg tror Dem fullt ut, fru Lyons, ” sa Sherlock Holmes. “ Det må være meget pinlig for Dem å snakke om disse ting. Det vil kanskje falle Dem lettere, når jeg forteller Dem hva som hendte. De kan jo rette meg, hvis jeg begår noen feiltagelse. Det var Stapleton, som tilskyndet Dem til å sende brevet ? ”
"I entirely believe you, madam," said Sherlock Holmes. "The recital of these events must be very painful to you, and perhaps it will make it easier if I tell you what occurred, and you can check me if I make any material mistake. The sending of this letter was suggested to you by Stapleton?"
“ Han dikterte det. ”
"He dictated it."
"I presume that the reason he gave was that you would receive help from Sir Charles for the legal expenses connected with your divorce?"
“Nettopp.”
"Exactly."
"And then after you had sent the letter he dissuaded you from keeping the appointment?"
"He told me that it would hurt his self-respect that any other man should find the money for such an object, and that though he was a poor man himself he would devote his last penny to removing the obstacles which divided us."
"He appears to be a very consistent character. And then you heard nothing until you read the reports of the death in the paper?"
“Nei.”
"No."
"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."
“ Selvfølgelig. Men De hadde Deres egne tanker om dette ? ”
"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."
“ Jeg tror at når alt kommer til alt, kan De takke til at De er sluppet så heldig, ” sa Sherlock Holmes. “ De har hatt hans skjebne i Deres hånd; dette visste han, og til tross for det lever De. De har i noen måneder vandret meget nær avgrunnens rand. Vi må nå si farvel, fru Lyons, men De vil sannsynligvis meget snart høre fra oss. ”
"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."
“ Vår sak begynner å avrundes nå; den ene vanskeligheten etter den andre forsvinner, ” sa Holmes mens vi stod og ventet på hurtigtoget fra London. “ Om kort tid håper jeg å kunne gi en sammenhengende beretning om en av de merkeligste og mest oppsiktsvekkende forbrytelser som vår tid kjenner. Folk, som studerer kriminalhistorien, vil erindre et tilsvarende tilfelle i Grodno i Lillerusland i året 66, og dessuten har vi Andersons myrderier i Nord-Karolina, men denne saken har enkelte sider som er ganske særegne for den. Ennå har vi dog ikke fullt bevis mot skurken. Men det skulle forundre meg meget, om ikke alt vil bli oppklart før vi går til sengs i aften. ”
"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."
Hurtigtoget fra London kom brusende inn på stasjonen, og en liten, smidig mann, som lignet en buldog, kom springende ut av en førsteklasses kupé. Vi trykket begge hånden hans, og jeg så på den ærbødige måte som Lestrade betraktet min ledsager på, at han hadde lært en god del siden de dagene da de først begynte å arbeide sammen. Jeg kunne godt huske hvor overlegent han som praktisk mann dengang stilte seg til den andres teoretiserende fremgangsmåter.
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.
“Noe nytt av interesse?”
"Anything good?" he asked.
“ Den vanskeligste sak vi har hatt på mange år, ” svarte Holmes. “ Vi har ennå to timer igjen før vi behøver å dra herfra. Jeg tenker vi nytter tiden til å spise middag. Siden skal De få Dem en frisk tur i Dartmoors rene natteluft. Den vil rense Deres hals for all Londonertåken. Har De aldri vært her før ? Godt, De kommer ikke til å glemme det første besøket så fort, tenker jeg. ” * * *
"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."
Fjortende kapitel. Hunden fra Baskerville
Chapter 14 The Hound of the Baskervilles
SHERLOCK Holmes hadde den feil — om man overhodet kan kalle det en feil —, at han var høyst utilbøyelig til å innvie noen annen fullt i planene sine før nettopp i øyeblikket da de skulle fullbyrdes. Delvis kom det naturligvis av hans egen myndige natur; han likte godt å beherske og overraske sine omgivelser. Delvis stod det vel også i forbindelse med den professionelle forsiktighet, som tilsa ham ikke å spille noen sjanse. Det kunne dog ofte være meget tirrende for dem som skulle være hans medarbeidere og hjelpere. Jeg hadde ofte lidd under det, men aldri mere enn på denne lange kjøreturen i mørket. Vi stod rett foran den store avgjørelsen, vi skulle endelig slå det siste slaget, men Holmes hadde ennå ikke sagt noe, og jeg kunne bare gjette meg til hva planen hans var. Mine nerver var spent i høyeste forventning da den kalde vinden i ansiktene våre og de belgmørke, øde viddene på begge sider av den smale veien sa meg at vi atter var kommet tilbake på moen. Hvert skritt av hestene og hver omdreining av vognhjulene førte oss nærmere eventyrets avslutning.
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.
Vi hadde leid en vogn, og den fremmede kuskens nærværelse la bånd på vår samtale. Vi måtte derfor innskrenke oss til å passiare om likegyldige ting, skjønt våre nerver var spent i den sterkeste bevegelse og forventning. Etter denne unaturlige beherskelse var det en stor lettelse for meg, da vi endelig passerte Franklands hus, og jeg visste at vi nå begynte å nærme oss Baskerville herregård, og skueplassen for den forestående begivenheten. Vi kjørte ikke opp til inngangsdøren, men ned til porten som førte ut til moen. Kusken fikk sin betaling og kjørte straks tilbake til Coombe Tracey, mens vi bega oss til fots på vei til Merripitgården.
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.
“ Har De revolver, Lestrade ? ”
"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?"
“Et ventende vilt!”
"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."
We moved cautiously along the track as if we were bound for the house, but Holmes halted us when we were about two hundred yards from it.
"This will do," said he. "These rocks upon the right make an admirable screen."
"We are to wait here?"
"Yes, we shall make our little ambush here. Get into this hollow, Lestrade. You have been inside the house, have you not, Watson? Can you tell the position of the rooms? What are those latticed windows at this end?"
"I think they are the kitchen windows."
“ Og det andre, som det lyser så sterkt fra ? ”
"And the one beyond, which shines so brightly?"
“ Det er sikkert spisestuen. ”
"That is certainly the dining-room."
"The blinds are up. You know the lie of the land best. Creep forward quietly and see what they are doing--but for heaven's sake don't let them know that they are watched!"
I tiptoed down the path and stooped behind the low wall which surrounded the stunted orchard. Creeping in its shadow I reached a point whence I could look straight through the uncurtained window.
I værelset fantes bare to menn, sir Henry Baskerville og Stapleton. Jeg kunne se dem i profil, der de satt på hver sin side av bordet. Begge røkte sigarer, og kaffe og vin stod foran dem. Stapleton snakket meget ivrig, men sir Henry så blek og adspredt ut. Kanskje tanken på den ensomme vandringen over den beryktede moen trykket ham.
There were only two men in the room, Sir Henry and Stapleton. They sat with their profiles towards me on either side of the round table. Both of them were smoking cigars, and coffee and wine were in front of them. Stapleton was talking with animation, but the baronet looked pale and distrait. Perhaps the thought of that lonely walk across the ill-omened moor was weighing heavily upon his mind.
Mens jeg stod og betraktet dem, reiste Stapleton seg og forlot værelset. Sir Henry fylte sitt glass og lente seg tilbake i stolen, dampende på sin sigar. Jeg hørte det knirke i en dør og lyden av fottrinn i gruset. Skrittene fulgte gangen på den andre siden av hagemuren som jeg stod skjult bak. Jeg kikket over den og så naturforskeren stå utenfor døren til et lysthus i en krok av haven. En nøkkel ble dreiet om i en lås, og da han gikk inn, hørtes en underlig larm, som om noen ble slått. Han var bare et minutt eller to der inne; så hørte jeg nøkkelen bli dreiet om i låsen. Han gikk forbi meg og inn i huset igjen. Der så jeg ham slutte seg til sin gjest, og jeg listet meg deretter tilbake til stedet hvor mine kamerater ventet på meg for å fortelle dem hva jeg hadde iakttatt.
As I watched them Stapleton rose and left the room, while Sir Henry filled his glass again and leaned back in his chair, puffing at his cigar. I heard the creak of a door and the crisp sound of boots upon gravel. The steps passed along the path on the other side of the wall under which I crouched. Looking over, I saw the naturalist pause at the door of an out-house in the corner of the orchard. A key turned in a lock, and as he passed in there was a curious scuffling noise from within. He was only a minute or so inside, and then I heard the key turn once more and he passed me and re-entered the house. I saw him rejoin his guest, and I crept quietly back to where my companions were waiting to tell them what I had seen.
"You say, Watson, that the lady is not there?" Holmes asked, when I had finished my report.
“Nei.”
"No."
"Where can she be, then, since there is no light in any other room except the kitchen?"
"I cannot think where she is."
Jeg har allerede fortalt at der lå en tett, hvit tåke over Grimpenmyren. Den drev langsomt henover til oss og la seg i en tett og tydelig banke, som en mur. I månelyset tok den seg fullstendig ut som et glitrende snefjell med fjellknausene i det fjerne ragende som høye tårne opp av massene. Holmes ' blikk var rettet på tåkebanken, og han mumlet utålmodig, mens han fulgte driften av den:
I have said that over the great Grimpen Mire there hung a dense, white fog. It was drifting slowly in our direction, and banked itself up like a wall on that side of us, low, but thick and well defined. The moon shone on it, and it looked like a great shimmering ice-field, with the heads of the distant tors as rocks borne upon its surface. Holmes's face was turned towards it, and he muttered impatiently as he watched its sluggish drift.
“ Den kommer hitover, Watson. ”
"It's moving towards us, Watson."
"Is that serious?"
"Very serious, indeed--the one thing upon earth which could have disarranged my plans. He can't be very long, now. It is already ten o'clock. Our success and even his life may depend upon his coming out before the fog is over the path."
Der hvor vi var, var det ennå en vakker aften med klar himmel. Stjernene blinket kalde og strålende, mens halvmånen badet hele scenen i et bløtt, ubestemmelig lys. Foran oss lå det mørke huset. Taket og de opprakende skorstenene tegnet seg skarpt mot den sølvblanke himmelen. Fra vinduene i første etasje falt det gyldne lyset i brede strimer tvers over haven og ut på moen. Et av dem forsvant plutselig. Tjenerne hadde forlatt kjøkkenet. Nå var bare lampen i spisestuen tilbake, hvor de to mennene, den mordlystne vert og den intetanende gjest, satt med sine sigarer og passiarte.
The night was clear and fine above us. The stars shone cold and bright, while a half-moon bathed the whole scene in a soft, uncertain light. Before us lay the dark bulk of the house, its serrated roof and bristling chimneys hard outlined against the silver-spangled sky. Broad bars of golden light from the lower windows stretched across the orchard and the moor. One of them was suddenly shut off. The servants had left the kitchen. There only remained the lamp in the dining-room where the two men, the murderous host and the unconscious guest, still chatted over their cigars.
For hvert minutt kom den hvite, ulne massen, som dekket den ene halvdelen av moen, nærmere og nærmere til huset. De første tynne utløperne nådde allerede inn i det gyldne skjæret fra det opplyste vinduet. Den borterste delen av havemuren var alt usynlig, og trærne raget opp av bølgende, hvit damp. Mens vi stod og betraktet dette synet, begynte tåken allerede å trenge seg rundt begge husets hjørner og la seg om det i en tett bunke, hvor annen etasje og taket fløt som et underlig skip på et hav med drivende skyer. Holmes slo heftig med hånden på fjellveggen foran oss og stampet i jorden av utålmodighet.
Every minute that white woolly plain which covered one half of the moor was drifting closer and closer to the house. Already the first thin wisps of it were curling across the golden square of the lighted window. The farther wall of the orchard was already invisible, and the trees were standing out of a swirl of white vapour. As we watched it the fog-wreaths came crawling round both corners of the house and rolled slowly into one dense bank, on which the upper floor and the roof floated like a strange ship upon a shadowy sea. Holmes struck his hand passionately upon the rock in front of us and stamped his feet in his impatience.
"If he isn't out in a quarter of an hour the path will be covered. In half an hour we won't be able to see our hands in front of us."
"Shall we move farther back upon higher ground?"
"Yes, I think it would be as well."
So as the fog-bank flowed onward we fell back before it until we were half a mile from the house, and still that dense white sea, with the moon silvering its upper edge, swept slowly and inexorably on.
"We are going too far," said Holmes. "We dare not take the chance of his being overtaken before he can reach us. At all costs we must hold our ground where we are." He dropped on his knees and clapped his ear to the ground. "Thank God, I think that I hear him coming."
Lyden av raske skritt avbrøt stillheten på moen. Vi la oss ned mellom steinene og stirret spent på den skinnende sølvbanken foran oss. Skrittene ble nå tydeligere, og gjennom tåken kom, som frem bak en gardin, mannen vi ventet på. Han så seg overrasket omkring da han kom ut i den stjerneklare aftenen. Så kom han gående raskt langs stien, passerte like forbi hvor vi lå, og fortsatte oppover den lange skråningen bak oss. Mens han vandret videre, så han seg stadig omkring som en mann som ikke føler seg trygg.
A sound of quick steps broke the silence of the moor. Crouching among the stones we stared intently at the silver-tipped bank in front of us. The steps grew louder, and through the fog, as through a curtain, there stepped the man whom we were awaiting. He looked round him in surprise as he emerged into the clear, starlit night. Then he came swiftly along the path, passed close to where we lay, and went on up the long slope behind us. As he walked he glanced continually over either shoulder, like a man who is ill at ease.
"Hist!" cried Holmes, and I heard the sharp click of a cocking pistol. "Look out! It's coming!"
Der hørtes en selsom, tassende lyd inne fra hjertet av de bølgende tåkemassene. Tåken var bare et halvt hundre meter fra stedet hvor vi lå, og alle tre stirret vi inn i den, uvisse om hva redselfullt som ville komme frem av den. Jeg lå ved siden av Holmes og betraktet et øyeblikk hans ansikt. Det var blekt og stolt; øynene flammet i månelyset. Men plutselig stirret han i høyeste forferdelse rett ut med halvåpen munn. Lestrade satte i det samme i et redselsskrik og kastet seg nesegrus på jorden. Jeg sprang opp, min hånd grep uvilkårlig revolveren, men jeg ble som lamslått ved synet av den redselsfulle skikkelsen som plutselig hadde dukket frem av tåkehavet. Det var en hund, et kullsvart uhyre av en hund, som aldri noe dødelig øye hadde skuet. Varmen stod fresende ut av den åpne munnen, øynene glødet med en eiendommelig ulmende ild, snuten, ørene og kroppen lyste i flammer. Selv i den mest vanvittige hjernes villeste drømmer kunne det ikke unnfanges noe mere skrekkelig og redselsfullt, noe mere helvedesaktig enn denne mørke skikkelsen og dette ville åsyn, som nå kom ut av tåkemassen rett mot oss.
There was a thin, crisp, continuous patter from somewhere in the heart of that crawling bank. The cloud was within fifty yards of where we lay, and we glared at it, all three, uncertain what horror was about to break from the heart of it. I was at Holmes's elbow, and I glanced for an instant at his face. It was pale and exultant, his eyes shining brightly in the moonlight. But suddenly they started forward in a rigid, fixed stare, and his lips parted in amazement. At the same instant Lestrade gave a yell of terror and threw himself face downward upon the ground. I sprang to my feet, my inert hand grasping my pistol, my mind paralyzed by the dreadful shape which had sprung out upon us from the shadows of the fog. A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame. Never in the delirious dream of a disordered brain could anything more savage, more appalling, more hellish be conceived than that dark form and savage face which broke upon us out of the wall of fog.
I lange sprang løp det store, sorte dyret bortover stien, i det det fulgte vår venns spor. Vi ble så lamslått ved dette synet at vi lot dyret løpe forbi oss før vi kom helt til samling igjen. Så skjøt både Holmes og jeg samtidig, og dyret utstøtte et fælt hyl som tydet på at i alle fall en av oss hadde ramt det. Det gjorde imidlertid ingen stans, men sprang videre. Langt borte så vi sir Henry vende seg om og se tilbake; ansiktet hans var blekt i måneskinnet, han raktehendene opp mot himmelen i forferdelse og stirret hjelpeløst på det fryktelige vesenet som kom jagende etter ham.
With long bounds the huge black creature was leaping down the track, following hard upon the footsteps of our friend. So paralyzed were we by the apparition that we allowed him to pass before we had recovered our nerve. Then Holmes and I both fired together, and the creature gave a hideous howl, which showed that one at least had hit him. He did not pause, however, but bounded onward. Far away on the path we saw Sir Henry looking back, his face white in the moonlight, his hands raised in horror, glaring helplessly at the frightful thing which was hunting him down.
Men hundens smerteshyl hadde jaget vekk all frykt. Hvis den kunne såres, så var den dødelig, og kunne vi såre den, så kunne vi også drepe den. Jeg har aldri sett en mann løpe slik som Holmes løp den nattet. Jeg blir ansett for å være nokså lett til bens, men han fløy fra meg. Foran oss hørte vi det ene redselsskriket etter det andre fra sir Henry, og hyl og brøl fra hunden. Jeg kom akkurat tidsnok til å se dyret styrte løs på sitt offer, kaste ham til jorden og bite ham i strupen. Men i neste øyeblikk hadde Holmes sendt hunden fem revolverkuler i livet. Med et siste dødshyl og iltert snappende etter luft styrtet den om på ryggen, kavet med benene og ble så liggende på siden, slapp og ubevegelig. Jeg bøyet meg ned og satte min pistol like inn til det fæle hodet, men jeg behøvde ikke å røre ved avtrekkeren. Kjempehunden var død.
But that cry of pain from the hound had blown all our fears to the winds. If he was vulnerable he was mortal, and if we could wound him we could kill him. Never have I seen a man run as Holmes ran that night. I am reckoned fleet of foot, but he outpaced me as much as I outpaced the little professional. In front of us as we flew up the track we heard scream after scream from Sir Henry and the deep roar of the hound. I was in time to see the beast spring upon its victim, hurl him to the ground, and worry at his throat. But the next instant Holmes had emptied five barrels of his revolver into the creature's flank. With a last howl of agony and a vicious snap in the air, it rolled upon its back, four feet pawing furiously, and then fell limp upon its side. I stooped, panting, and pressed my pistol to the dreadful, shimmering head, but it was useless to press the trigger. The giant hound was dead.
Sir Henry lå bevisstløs der hvor han var falt overende. Vi rev halstørkleet og kraven av ham, og Holmes takket Gud da vi så at det ikke fantes noe tegn til sår, og skjønte at hjelpen var kommet tidsnok. Vår venns øyelokk begynte å skjelve, og han gjorde svake forsøk på å røre på seg. Lestrade satte sin konjakkflaske for munnen på ham, og to forskremte øyne åpnet seg og så på oss.
Sir Henry lay insensible where he had fallen. We tore away his collar, and Holmes breathed a prayer of gratitude when we saw that there was no sign of a wound and that the rescue had been in time. Already our friend's eyelids shivered and he made a feeble effort to move. Lestrade thrust his brandy-flask between the baronet's teeth, and two frightened eyes were looking up at us.
"My God!" he whispered. "What was it? What, in heaven's name, was it?"
"It's dead, whatever it is," said Holmes. "We've laid the family ghost once and forever."
Både med hensyn til størrelse og til styrke var det et fryktelig dyr, som lå død foran oss. Det var ikke en blodhund av ren rase og heller ikke en ekte bullbiter, men den syntes å være en blanding av begge deler — mager, vill og på størrelse med en liten løvinne. Selv nå i døden syntes de svære kjevene likesom å lyse med en blålig flamme, og de små dyptliggende grusomme øynene å skyte ild. Jeg la hånden på dyrets snute, og da jeg løftet den opp igjen, lyste fingrene i mørket.
In mere size and strength it was a terrible creature which was lying stretched before us. It was not a pure bloodhound and it was not a pure mastiff; but it appeared to be a combination of the two--gaunt, savage, and as large as a small lioness. Even now, in the stillness of death, the huge jaws seemed to be dripping with a bluish flame and the small, deep-set, cruel eyes were ringed with fire. I placed my hand upon the glowing muzzle, and as I held them up my own fingers smouldered and gleamed in the darkness.
“ Fosfor, ” sa jeg.
"Phosphorus," I said.
“ Et lumsk preparat av fosfor, ” sa Holmes, i det han luktet til det døde dyret. “ Det harr ingen lukt som kunne ha virket hemmende på dens egen luktesans. Vi må gjøre Dem en ærbødig unnskyldning, sir Henry, fordi vi har utsatt Dem for denne skrekken. Jeg var beredt på å møte en hund, men ikke et slikt dyr som dette. Og tåken gjorde det vanskelig for oss å få fatt på den. ”
"A cunning preparation of it," said Holmes, sniffing at the dead animal. "There is no smell which might have interfered with his power of scent. We owe you a deep apology, Sir Henry, for having exposed you to this fright. I was prepared for a hound, but not for such a creature as this. And the fog gave us little time to receive him."
"You have saved my life."
"Having first endangered it. Are you strong enough to stand?"
"Give me another mouthful of that brandy and I shall be ready for anything. So! Now, if you will help me up. What do you propose to do?"
"To leave you here. You are not fit for further adventures to-night. If you will wait, one or other of us will go back with you to the Hall."
He tried to stagger to his feet; but he was still ghastly pale and trembling in every limb. We helped him to a rock, where he sat shivering with his face buried in his hands.
"We must leave you now," said Holmes. "The rest of our work must be done, and every moment is of importance. We have our case, and now we only want our man.
"It's a thousand to one against our finding him at the house," he continued as we retraced our steps swiftly down the path. "Those shots must have told him that the game was up."
"We were some distance off, and this fog may have deadened them."
"He followed the hound to call him off--of that you may be certain. No, no, he's gone by this time! But we'll search the house and make sure."
Gatedøren stod åpen, og vi stormet inn og løp fra værelse til værelse til stor forbauselse for den gamle tjeneren, som vi møtte i gangen. Det var ikke tent lys, unntatt i spisestuen, men Holmes tok lampen og undersøkte hver krok i huset. Vi kunne ikke oppdage noe spor av mannen vi var på jakt etter. I annen etasje var døren til et av soveværelsene låst.
The front door was open, so we rushed in and hurried from room to room to the amazement of a doddering old manservant, who met us in the passage. There was no light save in the dining-room, but Holmes caught up the lamp and left no corner of the house unexplored. No sign could we see of the man whom we were chasing. On the upper floor, however, one of the bedroom doors was locked.
"There's someone in here," cried Lestrade. "I can hear a movement. Open this door!"
A faint moaning and rustling came from within. Holmes struck the door just over the lock with the flat of his foot and it flew open. Pistol in hand, we all three rushed into the room.
But there was no sign within it of that desperate and defiant villain whom we expected to see. Instead we were faced by an object so strange and so unexpected that we stood for a moment staring at it in amazement.
Værelset var innrettet til et lite museum, og langs veggene stod det esker med glasslokk, inneholdende samlingen av sommerfugler og andre insekter som hadde vært den sammensatte og farlige mannens tidsfordriv. Midt i værelset var det en søyle, som en gang i tiden var satt opp som støtte for den gamle, ormstukne takbjelken. Bundet til denne søylen var en skikkelse som var så innsvøpt og omviklet at vi i øyeblikket ikke kunne se om det var en mann eller en kvinne. Et håndklede var lagt om halsen på den og knyttet sammen på baksiden av søylen. Et andet håndklede var anbrakt over den nedre delen av ansiktet, og ovenfor såes to mørke øyne — øyne med et sorgfullt og skamfullt og forferdelig spørrende blikk — som stirret på oss. I løpet av et minutt hadde vi revet båndene vekk, og fru Stapleton falt ned på gulvet. I det hennes vakre hode senket seg ned mot hennes bryst, så jeg at hun hadde et tydeligt sort merke etter et piskeslag over halsen.
The room had been fashioned into a small museum, and the walls were lined by a number of glass-topped cases full of that collection of butterflies and moths the formation of which had been the relaxation of this complex and dangerous man. In the centre of this room there was an upright beam, which had been placed at some period as a support for the old worm-eaten baulk of timber which spanned the roof. To this post a figure was tied, so swathed and muffled in the sheets which had been used to secure it that one could not for the moment tell whether it was that of a man or a woman. One towel passed round the throat and was secured at the back of the pillar. Another covered the lower part of the face, and over it two dark eyes--eyes full of grief and shame and a dreadful questioning--stared back at us. In a minute we had torn off the gag, unswathed the bonds, and Mrs. Stapleton sank upon the floor in front of us. As her beautiful head fell upon her chest I saw the clear red weal of a whiplash across her neck.
"The brute!" cried Holmes. "Here, Lestrade, your brandy-bottle! Put her in the chair! She has fainted from ill-usage and exhaustion."
Hun slo øynene opp igjen.
She opened her eyes again.
"Is he safe?" she asked. "Has he escaped?"
"He cannot escape us, madam."
"No, no, I did not mean my husband. Sir Henry? Is he safe?"
“Ja.”
"Yes."
“Og hunden?”
"And the hound?"
“ Den er død. ”
"It is dead."
Hun sukket tilfreds — et langt lettelsens sukk.
She gave a long sigh of satisfaction.
“ Gudskjelov ! Gudskjelov ! Å, den kjeltringen ! Se her, hvordan han har behandlet meg ! ” Hun trakk kjole-ermene opp, og vi så med forferdelse at overalt bar armene hennes merker av slag. “ Men dette er ingenting — ingenting ! Det er sjelelig og åndelig at han har pint meg og krenket meg. Jeg kunne tåle alt, mishandling, ensomhet, skuffelser hele livet igjennom, alt, så lenge jeg kunne klamre meg fast til håpet om at jeg eide hans kjærlighet, men nå vet jeg at også i det stykket har jeg vært hans narr og hans redskap. ” Hun brast i en heftig gråt.
"Thank God! Thank God! Oh, this villain! See how he has treated me!" She shot her arms out from her sleeves, and we saw with horror that they were all mottled with bruises. "But this is nothing--nothing! It is my mind and soul that he has tortured and defiled. I could endure it all, ill-usage, solitude, a life of deception, everything, as long as I could still cling to the hope that I had his love, but now I know that in this also I have been his dupe and his tool." She broke into passionate sobbing as she spoke.
"You bear him no good will, madam," said Holmes. "Tell us then where we shall find him. If you have ever aided him in evil, help us now and so atone."
"There is but one place where he can have fled," she answered. "There is an old tin mine on an island in the heart of the mire. It was there that he kept his hound and there also he had made preparations so that he might have a refuge. That is where he would fly."
The fog-bank lay like white wool against the window. Holmes held the lamp towards it.
"See," said he. "No one could find his way into the Grimpen Mire to-night."
She laughed and clapped her hands. Her eyes and teeth gleamed with fierce merriment.
"He may find his way in, but never out," she cried. "How can he see the guiding wands to-night? We planted them together, he and I, to mark the pathway through the mire. Oh, if I could only have plucked them out to-day. Then indeed you would have had him at your mercy!"
Det var klart at en hver forfølgelse ville være forgjeves før tåken hadde lettet. Imidlertid lot vi Lestrade bli tilbake for å passe på huset, mens Holmes og jeg bega oss til Baskerville herregård med sir Henry. Historien om Stapletons kunne ikke lenger holdes skjult for ham; men han tok slaget med ro da han fikk vite sannheten om den kvinne han hadde elsket. Nattens opplevelser hadde imidlertid rystet nervene hans, og før det ble morgen lå han med høy feber, men ble omhyggelig pleiet av doktor Mortimer. Disse to mennene måtte jorden rundt før sir Henry igjen ble den friske, kjekke mann han var, da han ble herre på det ulykksalige gods. * * * Og nå kommer jeg hurtig til avslutningen av denne selsomme historien, hvor jeg har forsøkt å bringe leseren til å dele den dunkle frykten og de ubestemte anelsene som så lenge formørket vårt liv og endte på en så tragisk måte.
It was evident to us that all pursuit was in vain until the fog had lifted. Meanwhile we left Lestrade in possession of the house while Holmes and I went back with the baronet to Baskerville Hall. The story of the Stapletons could no longer be withheld from him, but he took the blow bravely when he learned the truth about the woman whom he had loved. But the shock of the night's adventures had shattered his nerves, and before morning he lay delirious in a high fever, under the care of Dr. Mortimer. The two of them were destined to travel together round the world before Sir Henry had become once more the hale, hearty man that he had been before he became master of that ill-omened estate.
Morgenen etter at hunden var drept, hadde tåken lettet, og vi ble ført til stedet hvor en fotsti gikk over myren av fru Stapleton. Vi forstod hvor redselsfullt denne kvinnens liv hadde vært da vi så med hvilken iver og glede hun satte oss på sporet etter sin mann. Hun ble stående på en liten halvøy av fast torvjord som strakte seg ut i den store sumpen. Utover fra spissen av denne halvøyen viste små nedrammede pæler hvor stien slynget seg i krumninger fra den ene sivtuen til den neste mellom grønskefylte vannhull og hengemyr. Illeluktende siv og våte, slimete vannplanter utsendte en duft av forfall, undergang, og en tung, sykdomsvekkende dunst, og når vi trådte feil, sank vi til langt opp på låret ned i det sorte, bløte mudderet, som i flere meters avstand bølget rundt føttene våre. Det tok fatt i hælene mens vi gikk, og når vi sank ned i det, var det som om en ondskapsfull hånd halte oss ned i det skitne dypet. Kun på et sted så vi spor av at noen hadde gått denne farlige veien før oss. Midt i en myrulltue stakk en mørk gjenstand frem. Holmes sank i til livet da han forlot stien for å få fatt i den, og hadde vi ikke vært til stede og kunnet hjelpe ham opp, kan det hende at han aldri mere hadde satt sin fot på fast grunn. Han holdt en gammel støvel i veiret. “ Meyers, Toronto, ” stod stemplet på skinnforet.
And now I come rapidly to the conclusion of this singular narrative, in which I have tried to make the reader share those dark fears and vague surmises which clouded our lives so long and ended in so tragic a manner. On the morning after the death of the hound the fog had lifted and we were guided by Mrs. Stapleton to the point where they had found a pathway through the bog. It helped us to realize the horror of this woman's life when we saw the eagerness and joy with which she laid us on her husband's track. We left her standing upon the thin peninsula of firm, peaty soil which tapered out into the widespread bog. From the end of it a small wand planted here and there showed where the path zigzagged from tuft to tuft of rushes among those green-scummed pits and foul quagmires which barred the way to the stranger. Rank reeds and lush, slimy water-plants sent an odour of decay and a heavy miasmatic vapour onto our faces, while a false step plunged us more than once thigh-deep into the dark, quivering mire, which shook for yards in soft undulations around our feet. Its tenacious grip plucked at our heels as we walked, and when we sank into it it was as if some malignant hand was tugging us down into those obscene depths, so grim and purposeful was the clutch in which it held us. Once only we saw a trace that someone had passed that perilous way before us. From amid a tuft of cotton grass which bore it up out of the slime some dark thing was projecting. Holmes sank to his waist as he stepped from the path to seize it, and had we not been there to drag him out he could never have set his foot upon firm land again. He held an old black boot in the air. "Meyers, Toronto," was printed on the leather inside.
"It is worth a mud bath," said he. "It is our friend Sir Henry's missing boot."
“ Kastet vekk her av Stapleton under flukten ? ”
"Thrown there by Stapleton in his flight."
"Exactly. He retained it in his hand after using it to set the hound upon the track. He fled when he knew the game was up, still clutching it. And he hurled it away at this point of his flight. We know at least that he came so far in safety."
Men mere enn dette skulle vi ikke få visshet for, skjønt det var meget som vi kunne ane. Det var ingen mulighet for å finne fotspor i myren, for de utslettes hurtig av den flytende gjørmen; men da vi endelig nådde fastere grunn, speidet vi alle ivrig etter spor. Men ikke det ringeste tegn til det fikk vi øye på. Hvis jordbunnen sa sant, hadde Stapleton aldri nådd frem til den frelsende øyen som han hadde søkt til i tåken den foregående natt. Ett eller annet sted i den store Grimpensumpen, i det råtne mudderet som hadde suget ham til seg, er denne kalde og grusomme mann begravd for alltid.
But more than that we were never destined to know, though there was much which we might surmise. There was no chance of finding footsteps in the mire, for the rising mud oozed swiftly in upon them, but as we at last reached firmer ground beyond the morass we all looked eagerly for them. But no slightest sign of them ever met our eyes. If the earth told a true story, then Stapleton never reached that island of refuge towards which he struggled through the fog upon that last night. Somewhere in the heart of the great Grimpen Mire, down in the foul slime of the huge morass which had sucked him in, this cold and cruel-hearted man is forever buried.
Mange spor etter ham ble funnet på den myr-omkransede øyen hvor han hadde holdt sin ville kamerat skjult. Et stort hjul til et heiseverk og en sjakt, halvt fylt med avfall og rusk, viste hvor en nå forlatt gruve hadde ligget. I nærheten fantes ruiner av gruvearbeidernes hytter. Folkene hadde uten tvil måttet flytte derfra på grunn av de usunne dunstene fra sumpen. I en av hyttene viste en krampe i veggen og en lenke, samt en hel del avgnagde ben, hvor dyret hadde vært innesperret. Et skjelett med en dusk brunt hår lå blant skrapet.
Many traces we found of him in the bog-girt island where he had hid his savage ally. A huge driving-wheel and a shaft half-filled with rubbish showed the position of an abandoned mine. Beside it were the crumbling remains of the cottages of the miners, driven away no doubt by the foul reek of the surrounding swamp. In one of these a staple and chain with a quantity of gnawed bones showed where the animal had been confined. A skeleton with a tangle of brown hair adhering to it lay among the debris.
“ En hund ! ” sa Holmes. “ Såmen kan det ha vært en krøllhåret puddel ! Stakkars Mortimer vil aldri få se sitt kjæledyr igjen. Nåvel, jeg tror ikke dette stedet huser noen hemmelighet som vi ikke allerede har trengt til bunns i. Han kunne skjule hunden, men han kunne ikke legge bånd på dens røst, og derfra skrev seg hylene som ikke var hyggelig å høre, selv ved høylys dag. I nødsfall kunne han holde hunden i uthuset i Merripit-gården, men det var risikabelt, og først den avgjørende dagen, da han gjorde regning med at alle hans anstrengelser skulle ta slutt, våget han å gjøre det. Denne deigaktige massen i blikkdåsen her er uten tvil den lysende substansen som dyret ble innsmurt med. Han kom naturligvis på tanken fordi han hadde hørt om familiens helvedeshund, og fordi han ønsket å skremme gamle sir Charles ihjel. Intet under at den stakkars stymper av en straffange rente avsted og skrek, akkurat som vår venn gjorde, og som vi selv kunne ha gjort, da han så et slikt dyr komme springende etter seg i mørket på moen. Det var et listig påfunn, for bortset fra muligheten av å skremme livet av det utsette offeret, så ville ingen av egnens bønder våge seg til å undersøke et slikt dyr altfor nøye om de fikk øye på det, som så mange har gjort. Jeg sa i London, Watson, og jeg gjentar det nå, at aldri har vi vært med å jakte på en farligere mann enn ham som ligger der ute ” — han pekte med armen utover den veldige, flekkete sumpen med de grønne tuene, som strakte seg langt henigjennom, inntil den endte ved en bratt klippeskrent.
"A dog!" said Holmes. "By Jove, a curly-haired spaniel. Poor Mortimer will never see his pet again. Well, I do not know that this place contains any secret which we have not already fathomed. He could hide his hound, but he could not hush its voice, and hence came those cries which even in daylight were not pleasant to hear. On an emergency he could keep the hound in the out-house at Merripit, but it was always a risk, and it was only on the supreme day, which he regarded as the end of all his efforts, that he dared do it. This paste in the tin is no doubt the luminous mixture with which the creature was daubed. It was suggested, of course, by the story of the family hell-hound, and by the desire to frighten old Sir Charles to death. No wonder the poor devil of a convict ran and screamed, even as our friend did, and as we ourselves might have done, when he saw such a creature bounding through the darkness of the moor upon his track. It was a cunning device, for, apart from the chance of driving your victim to his death, what peasant would venture to inquire too closely into such a creature should he get sight of it, as many have done, upon the moor? I said it in London, Watson, and I say it again now, that never yet have we helped to hunt down a more dangerous man than he who is lying yonder"--he swept his long arm towards the huge mottled expanse of green-splotched bog which stretched away until it merged into the russet slopes of the moor.
Femtende kapitel. Et tilbakeblikk.
Chapter 15 A Retrospection
DET var i slutten av november. Sherlock Holmes og jeg satt en sur, tåkefull aften på hver vår side av en flammende kaminild i vår dagligstue i Baker Street. Min venn var i utmerket humør på grunn av hellet han hadde hatt med en rekke vanskelige og betydningsfulle saker, og det var derfor en utmerket leilighet til å få ham til å drøfte enkelthetene ved Baskerville-mysteriet. Jeg hadde ventet tålmodig på denne anledningen, for jeg visste at han aldri blandet forskjellige saker sammen, og at hans klare og logiske ånd ikke lot seg lokke fra arbeidet som den var beskjeftiget med til en hver tid for å dvele ved erindringen om det forbigangne. Sir Henry og doktor Mortimer var imidlertid i London på vei til den lange reisen som var blitt anbefalt førstnevnte til styrkelse for hans angrepne nerver. De hadde besøkt oss samme ettermiddag, så det var naturlig at saken kom på tale.
It was the end of November and Holmes and I sat, upon a raw and foggy night, on either side of a blazing fire in our sitting-room in Baker Street. Since the tragic upshot of our visit to Devonshire he had been engaged in two affairs of the utmost importance, in the first of which he had exposed the atrocious conduct of Colonel Upwood in connection with the famous card scandal of the Nonpareil Club, while in the second he had defended the unfortunate Mme. Montpensier from the charge of murder which hung over her in connection with the death of her step-daughter, Mlle. Carere, the young lady who, as it will be remembered, was found six months later alive and married in New York. My friend was in excellent spirits over the success which had attended a succession of difficult and important cases, so that I was able to induce him to discuss the details of the Baskerville mystery. I had waited patiently for the opportunity, for I was aware that he would never permit cases to overlap, and that his clear and logical mind would not be drawn from its present work to dwell upon memories of the past. Sir Henry and Dr. Mortimer were, however, in London, on their way to that long voyage which had been recommended for the restoration of his shattered nerves. They had called upon us that very afternoon, so that it was natural that the subject should come up for discussion.
“ Begivenhetenes hele gang, ” sa Holmes, “ var enkel og likefrem fra synspunktet til den personen som kalte seg Stapleton, skjønt den fra først av forekom oss overordentlig innviklet fordi vi ikke visste årsakene til hans handlinger, og bare var i stand til å lære å kjenne en del av de virkelige forholdene. Jeg har to ganger hatt anledning til å snakke med fru Stapleton, og saken er nå så fullstendig oppklart at jeg ikke kan skjønne at det er noe som lenger er en hemmelighet for oss. De vil finne noen opptegnelser om saken under bokstav B. i min alfabetisk ordnede saksfortegnelse. ”
"The whole course of events," said Holmes, "from the point of view of the man who called himself Stapleton was simple and direct, although to us, who had no means in the beginning of knowing the motives of his actions and could only learn part of the facts, it all appeared exceedingly complex. I have had the advantage of two conversations with Mrs. Stapleton, and the case has now been so entirely cleared up that I am not aware that there is anything which has remained a secret to us. You will find a few notes upon the matter under the heading B in my indexed list of cases."
"Perhaps you would kindly give me a sketch of the course of events from memory."
“ Ja, men jeg kan ikke stå inne for at jeg husker alle omstendighetene. Intens samling av alle åndelige evner på ett punkt utsletter på en eiendommelig måte erindringen om ting som er opp og avgjort. Men hva angår historien med hunden skal jeg skildre Dem begivenhetenes utvikling så nøye som jeg formår, og er det noe jeg glemmer, så får De spørre. Mine undersøkelser viser utvilsomt at familieportrettet ikke har løyet, og at denne fyren virkelig var en Baskerville. Han var en sønn av den Rodger Baskerville, sir Charles ' yngre bror, som med et ødelagt rykte flyktet til Sydamerika, hvor det het at han døde ugift. Han ble dog virkelig gift og hadde et barn, nemlig denne fyren, hvis virkelige navn var det samme som farens.
"Certainly, though I cannot guarantee that I carry all the facts in my mind. Intense mental concentration has a curious way of blotting out what has passed. The barrister who has his case at his fingers' ends, and is able to argue with an expert upon his own subject finds that a week or two of the courts will drive it all out of his head once more. So each of my cases displaces the last, and Mlle. Carere has blurred my recollection of Baskerville Hall. To-morrow some other little problem may be submitted to my notice which will in turn dispossess the fair French lady and the infamous Upwood. So far as the case of the Hound goes, however, I will give you the course of events as nearly as I can, and you will suggest anything which I may have forgotten.
Sønnen ble gift med Beryl Garcia, en av Costa Ricas skjønnheter, og etter å ha forsynt seg med en betydelig sum av offentlige midler forandret han sitt navn til Vandeleur og flyktet til England, hvor han opprettet en skole i den østlige delen av Yorkshire. Hans grunn til å forsøke nettopp denne virksomhetsgrenen var at han på hjemreisen hadde stiftet bekjentskap med en tæringssyk lærer, hvis dyktighet han utnyttet, så foretagendet hadde hell med seg. Fraser, læreren, døde imidlertid, og skolen, som hadde begynt så godt, sank dypere og dypere. Ekteparet Vandeleur fant det hensiktsmessig å forandre sitt navn til Stapleton, og han brakte restene av sin formue, sine fremtidsplaner og sin tilbøyelighet for studiet av insekter med seg til Syd-England. Jeg har erfart i British Museum at han var en anerkjent autoritet som entomolog, og at navnet Vandeleur for bestandig er knyttet til en viss art møll som han var den første til å beskrive, under sitt opphold i Yorkshire.
"My inquiries show beyond all question that the family portrait did not lie, and that this fellow was indeed a Baskerville. He was a son of that Rodger Baskerville, the younger brother of Sir Charles, who fled with a sinister reputation to South America, where he was said to have died unmarried. He did, as a matter of fact, marry, and had one child, this fellow, whose real name is the same as his father's. He married Beryl Garcia, one of the beauties of Costa Rica, and, having purloined a considerable sum of public money, he changed his name to Vandeleur and fled to England, where he established a school in the east of Yorkshire. His reason for attempting this special line of business was that he had struck up an acquaintance with a consumptive tutor upon the voyage home, and that he had used this man's ability to make the undertaking a success. Fraser, the tutor, died however, and the school which had begun well sank from disrepute into infamy. The Vandeleurs found it convenient to change their name to Stapleton, and he brought the remains of his fortune, his schemes for the future, and his taste for entomology to the south of England. I learned at the British Museum that he was a recognized authority upon the subject, and that the name of Vandeleur has been permanently attached to a certain moth which he had, in his Yorkshire days, been the first to describe.
Vi kommer nå til avsnittet av hans liv som har fått så overordentlig stor interesse for oss. Mannen hadde tydeligvis anstilt undersøkelser, og funnet ut at det kun stod to liv mellom ham og et verdifullt gods. Da han kom til Devonshire, antar jeg at hans planer ennå var meget uklare, men at han like fra først av pønset på ondt, er åpenbart av den omstendigheten at han utga sin hustru for sin søster. Planen om å benytte henne som lokkemat var sikkert allerede fattet, skjønt han kanskje ikke har vært på det rene med hvordan intrigens enkeltheter skulle legges til rette. Det var hans faste beslutning å bli eier av godset, og han var parat til å bruke hvilket som helst middel, og løpe hvilken som helst risiko, for å nå dette mål. Det første han gjorde, var å bosette seg så nær sine fedres hjem som mulig, og det andre var å innlede en vennskapsforbindelse med sir Charles Baskerville og med naboene.
"We now come to that portion of his life which has proved to be of such intense interest to us. The fellow had evidently made inquiry and found that only two lives intervened between him and a valuable estate. When he went to Devonshire his plans were, I believe, exceedingly hazy, but that he meant mischief from the first is evident from the way in which he took his wife with him in the character of his sister. The idea of using her as a decoy was clearly already in his mind, though he may not have been certain how the details of his plot were to be arranged. He meant in the end to have the estate, and he was ready to use any tool or run any risk for that end. His first act was to establish himself as near to his ancestral home as he could, and his second was to cultivate a friendship with Sir Charles Baskerville and with the neighbours.
Sir Charles fortalte ham selv om familiens hund og banet således veien for sin egen død. Stapleton, som jeg vil fortsette å kalle ham, visste at den gamle mannen led av hjertefeil, og at en plutselig og heftig sinnsbevegelse kunne drepe ham. Det hadde han hørt av doktor Mortimer. Han hadde også hørt at sir Charles var overtroisk, og hadde tatt det uhyggelige gamle sagnet meget alvorlig. Hans kløktige hode fant straks på en måte for å ta sir Charles av dage, sånn at det neppe ville være mulig å spore den virkelige morderen.
"The baronet himself told him about the family hound, and so prepared the way for his own death. Stapleton, as I will continue to call him, knew that the old man's heart was weak and that a shock would kill him. So much he had learned from Dr. Mortimer. He had heard also that Sir Charles was superstitious and had taken this grim legend very seriously. His ingenious mind instantly suggested a way by which the baronet could be done to death, and yet it would be hardly possible to bring home the guilt to the real murderer.
Etter å ha unnfanget sin plan skred han til å utføre den med stor listighet. En alminnelig eventyrer ville ha benyttet seg av en alminnelig vill hund. Bruken av kunstige midler til å gi dyret et djevelsk utseende var et genialt påfunn av ham. Hunden kjøpte han i London hos Ross & Mangles i Fulham Road. Det var den sterkeste og villeste hunden som fantes hos dem. Han tok den med seg på Nord-Devon jernbanen, og gikk en lang vei over moen for å få brakt den hjem uten å vekke oppmerksomhet. Han hadde allerede lært å finne vei gjennom Grimpensumpen på sine utflukter for å fange insekter, og hadde også funnet et sikkert skjulested for dyret. Her sperret han det inne, og ventet så på det beleilige øyeblikket.
"Having conceived the idea he proceeded to carry it out with considerable finesse. An ordinary schemer would have been content to work with a savage hound. The use of artificial means to make the creature diabolical was a flash of genius upon his part. The dog he bought in London from Ross and Mangles, the dealers in Fulham Road. It was the strongest and most savage in their possession. He brought it down by the North Devon line and walked a great distance over the moor so as to get it home without exciting any remarks. He had already on his insect hunts learned to penetrate the Grimpen Mire, and so had found a safe hiding-place for the creature. Here he kennelled it and waited his chance.
Men det gikk en tid. Den gamle herren lot seg ikke lokke utenfor godsets område ved nattetid. Flere ganger lusket Stapleton omkring med sin hund, men til ingen nytte. Det var under disse fruktesløse streiftogene at han, eller rettere sagt hans medhjelper, ble sett av bøndene, og sagnet om den demoniske hunden fikk ny bekreftelse. Han hadde håpet at hans hustru skulle lokke sir Charles i fordervelsen, men i dette stykke viste hun seg, mot forventning, uavhengig. Hun ville ikke forsøke å innvikle den gamle herre i en kjærlighetsaffære som kunne bringe ham i hans fiendes hender. Trusler og dessverre også pryl klarte ikke å bevege henne. Hun ville intet ha å gjøre med dette, og for en tid måtte Stapleton innstille det hele.
"But it was some time coming. The old gentleman could not be decoyed outside of his grounds at night. Several times Stapleton lurked about with his hound, but without avail. It was during these fruitless quests that he, or rather his ally, was seen by peasants, and that the legend of the demon dog received a new confirmation. He had hoped that his wife might lure Sir Charles to his ruin, but here she proved unexpectedly independent. She would not endeavour to entangle the old gentleman in a sentimental attachment which might deliver him over to his enemy. Threats and even, I am sorry to say, blows refused to move her. She would have nothing to do with it, and for a time Stapleton was at a deadlock.
Så fant han en vei ut av sine vanskeligheter ved at sir Charles, som hadde fattet vennskap for ham, hadde gjort ham til mellommann ved den understøttelsen han ytte den ulykkelige kvinnen, fru Laura Lyons. Ved å fremstille seg som ugift fikk Stapleton en sterk innflytelse på henne, og han lot henne forstå at hvis hun kunne oppnå skilsmisse fra sin mann, ville han gifte seg med henne. Hans planer ble plutselig fremskynt fordi han fikk vite at sir Charles stod i ferd med å forlate godset etter doktor Mortimers råd, noe som han selv også lot som han var enig i. Han måtte handle straks, ellers ville hans offer komme utenfor hans rekkevidde. Han øvet derfor press på fru Lyons for at hun skulle skrive dette brevet og bønfalle den gamle mannen om å treffe henne for en samtale før hans avreise til London. Med vel uttenkte grunner fikk han henne overtalt til ikke å møte, og dermed hadde han sjansen han hadde ventet på.
"He found a way out of his difficulties through the chance that Sir Charles, who had conceived a friendship for him, made him the minister of his charity in the case of this unfortunate woman, Mrs. Laura Lyons. By representing himself as a single man he acquired complete influence over her, and he gave her to understand that in the event of her obtaining a divorce from her husband he would marry her. His plans were suddenly brought to a head by his knowledge that Sir Charles was about to leave the Hall on the advice of Dr. Mortimer, with whose opinion he himself pretended to coincide. He must act at once, or his victim might get beyond his power. He therefore put pressure upon Mrs. Lyons to write this letter, imploring the old man to give her an interview on the evening before his departure for London. He then, by a specious argument, prevented her from going, and so had the chance for which he had waited.
Da han om aftenen kjørte tilbake fra Coombe Tracey, kom han tidsnok til å få fatt på hunden, smøre den med den djevelske malingwn, og bringe dyret til porten hvor han hadde grunn til å anta at den gamle herren stod og ventet. Hisset av sin herre, sprang hunden over gitterporten og forfulgte den ulykkelige baronet, som skrikende flyktet nedover barlind-alleén. I den mørke gangen må det ha vært et skrekkelig syn å se det store sorte dyret, med de lysende kjever og ildøynene, løpe etter sitt offer. Ved enden av alléen falt han til jorden, død av hjerteslag og redsel. Hunden hadde holdt seg på gressrabatten, mens baronetten hadde sprunget bortette veien, så der var ingen andre synlige spor enn hans. Da dyret så ham bli liggende stille, hadde det rimeligvis nærmet seg for å snuse på ham, men gått sin vei igjen da det fant ut at han var død.
"Driving back in the evening from Coombe Tracey he was in time to get his hound, to treat it with his infernal paint, and to bring the beast round to the gate at which he had reason to expect that he would find the old gentleman waiting. The dog, incited by its master, sprang over the wicket-gate and pursued the unfortunate baronet, who fled screaming down the Yew Alley. In that gloomy tunnel it must indeed have been a dreadful sight to see that huge black creature, with its flaming jaws and blazing eyes, bounding after its victim. He fell dead at the end of the alley from heart disease and terror. The hound had kept upon the grassy border while the baronet had run down the path, so that no track but the man's was visible. On seeing him lying still the creature had probably approached to sniff at him, but finding him dead had turned away again. It was then that it left the print which was actually observed by Dr. Mortimer. The hound was called off and hurried away to its lair in the Grimpen Mire, and a mystery was left which puzzled the authorities, alarmed the country-side, and finally brought the case within the scope of our observation.
Det var på den måten hunden kom til å etterlate fotsporene som ble iakttatt av doktor Mortimer. Hunden ble kalt tilbake og snarest ført til sitt skjulested ute i sumpen, og der forelå så et mysterium som satte autoritetene i forlegenhet, vakte skrekk og uro i hele egnen, og endelig brakte affæren til å bli gjenstand for våre iakttagelser. Dette var altså omstendighetene ved sir Charles Baskervilles død. De forstår hvor djevelsk listig planen var lagt, for det ville være omtrent umulig å reise tiltale mot den virkelige morderen. Hans eneste medskyldige kunne aldri røpe ham, og planens groteske, ubegripelige natur hadde kun tjent til å gjøre den så meget mere virksom. Begge kvinnene som stod i forbindelse med saken, fru Stapleton og fru Laura Lyons, nærte en sterk mistanke mot Stapleton. Fru Stapleton visste at han hadde visse hensikter overfor den gamle mann, og hun visste også om hunden.
"So much for the death of Sir Charles Baskerville. You perceive the devilish cunning of it, for really it would be almost impossible to make a case against the real murderer. His only accomplice was one who could never give him away, and the grotesque, inconceivable nature of the device only served to make it more effective. Both of the women concerned in the case, Mrs. Stapleton and Mrs. Laura Lyons, were left with a strong suspicion against Stapleton. Mrs. Stapleton knew that he had designs upon the old man, and also of the existence of the hound. Mrs. Lyons knew neither of these things, but had been impressed by the death occurring at the time of an uncancelled appointment which was only known to him. However, both of them were under his influence, and he had nothing to fear from them. The first half of his task was successfully accomplished but the more difficult still remained.
Fru Lyons kjente ikke til noe av dette, men hadde bitt merke i at den gamle mannens død inntraff nettopp på den tiden da den sammenkomsten skulle ha funnet sted som ingen andre enn Stapleton visste om. Men de var begge avhengige av ham, og han hadde intet å frykte av dem. Den første halvdelen av hans oppgave var heldig løst, men den vanskeligere delen stod ennå tilbake. Det er mulig at Stapleton ikke visste om at det fantes en arving i Kanada. Men i alle tilfeller fikk han meget snart vite det av sin venn doktor Mortimer, som også fortalte ham alle enkeltheter angående sir Henry Baskervilles ankomst. Stapletons første tanke var at den unge mannen fra Kanada kanskje kunne drepes i London uten en gang å få komme til Devonshire. Han hadde mistro til sin hustru, siden hun hadde nektet å hjelpe ham med å legge en felle for den gamle mannen, og han våget ikke å la henne være lenge ute av syne av frykt for å tape sin makt over henne. Det var av den grunn han tok henne med seg til London. Etter hva jeg erfarer, bodde de i Mexborough privathotell i Craven Street, som var et av de hotellene som min utsending besøkte for å samle bevismateriale. Her holdt han sin hustru innesperret på hennes værelse, mens han selv, utstyrt med et falsk skjegg, fulgte etter doktor Mortimer til jernbanestasjonen og til Northumberland Hotel. Hans hustru hadde uklare anelser om planene hans, men hun var så redd for sin mann — på grunn av brutal mishandling fra hans side — at hun ikke våget å skrive for å advare mannen som hun visste var i fare. Hvis brevet falt i Stapletons hender ville hennes eget liv ikke være sikkert. Til slutt valgte hun, som vi vet, utveien å klippe ordene som kunne settes sammen til et advarselsbrev ut av en avis, og å skrive adressen med fordreid håndskrift. Brevet nådde baronetten, og ga ham det første varsko om faren.
"It is possible that Stapleton did not know of the existence of an heir in Canada. In any case he would very soon learn it from his friend Dr. Mortimer, and he was told by the latter all details about the arrival of Henry Baskerville. Stapleton's first idea was that this young stranger from Canada might possibly be done to death in London without coming down to Devonshire at all. He distrusted his wife ever since she had refused to help him in laying a trap for the old man, and he dared not leave her long out of his sight for fear he should lose his influence over her. It was for this reason that he took her to London with him. They lodged, I find, at the Mexborough Private Hotel, in Craven Street, which was actually one of those called upon by my agent in search of evidence. Here he kept his wife imprisoned in her room while he, disguised in a beard, followed Dr. Mortimer to Baker Street and afterwards to the station and to the Northumberland Hotel. His wife had some inkling of his plans; but she had such a fear of her husband--a fear founded upon brutal ill-treatment--that she dare not write to warn the man whom she knew to be in danger. If the letter should fall into Stapleton's hands her own life would not be safe. Eventually, as we know, she adopted the expedient of cutting out the words which would form the message, and addressing the letter in a disguised hand. It reached the baronet, and gave him the first warning of his danger.
Det var av stor betydning for Stapleton å få fatt på et eller annet klesplagg som tilhørte sir Henry, slik at i tilfelle av at han ble nødt til å bruke hunden, kunne sette den på sporet. Med sin sedvanlige raskhet og dristighet ga han seg straks i kast med å nå det målet, og det kan ikke være tvil om at hotellets skopusser eller stuepike fikk rikelig betaling for å hjelpe ham. Den første støvelen han fikk fatt på var imidlertid tilfeldigvis ny, og derfor ubrukelig til hans formål. Han leverte den derfor tilbake og fikk en annen — en meget opplysende omstendighet, da det overbeviste meg om at vi hadde å gjøre med en virkelig hund, i det ingen annen forutsetning kunne forklare at Stapleton var så ivrig på å få fatt i en gammel støvel og ikke brydde seg om den nye. Jo mere besynderlig og usedvanlig et tilfelle er, dessto omhyggeligere fortjener det å undersøkes, og nettopp det som synes å gjøre en sak mere innviklet, kan lett, når det overveies grundig og behandles vitenskapelig, bidra til å oppklare den.
"It was very essential for Stapleton to get some article of Sir Henry's attire so that, in case he was driven to use the dog, he might always have the means of setting him upon his track. With characteristic promptness and audacity he set about this at once, and we cannot doubt that the boots or chamber-maid of the hotel was well bribed to help him in his design. By chance, however, the first boot which was procured for him was a new one and, therefore, useless for his purpose. He then had it returned and obtained another--a most instructive incident, since it proved conclusively to my mind that we were dealing with a real hound, as no other supposition could explain this anxiety to obtain an old boot and this indifference to a new one. The more outre and grotesque an incident is the more carefully it deserves to be examined, and the very point which appears to complicate a case is, when duly considered and scientifically handled, the one which is most likely to elucidate it.
Neste morgen mottok vi visitt av våre venner, mens Stapleton fulgte etter i en vogn og holdt øye med dem. At han visste hvor vi bodde og kjente meg av utseende, likesom også hans forhold i det hele tatt, gjør meg tilbøyelig til å tro at hans forbrytervirksomhet på ingen måte har vært innskrenket til kun Baskerville-affæren. Det er verd å legge merke til at der vestpå har det i de siste tre år funnet sted fire store innbruddstyverier hvor man ikke har fått fatt i gjerningdmannen. Det siste av dem, i Folkstone Court i mai måned sistleden, er merkelig ved at den unge tjeneren som overrasket den maskerte innbruddstyven ble skutt ned med kaldt blod. Jeg kan ikke tvile på at Stapleton supplerte sine avtagende pengemidler på denne måten, og at han i en årrekke har vært en ytterst farlig mann.
"Then we had the visit from our friends next morning, shadowed always by Stapleton in the cab. From his knowledge of our rooms and of my appearance, as well as from his general conduct, I am inclined to think that Stapleton's career of crime has been by no means limited to this single Baskerville affair. It is suggestive that during the last three years there have been four considerable burglaries in the West Country, for none of which was any criminal ever arrested. The last of these, at Folkestone Court, in May, was remarkable for the cold-blooded pistoling of the page, who surprised the masked and solitary burglar. I cannot doubt that Stapleton recruited his waning resources in this fashion, and that for years he has been a desperate and dangerous man.
Vi hadde et eksempel på hans evner til å finne utveier den samme morgenen, da han slapp så heldig fra oss, og på hans dristighet ved at han lot vognmannen bringe meg en hilsen. Fra det øyeblikket forstod han at jeg hadde overtatt saken for Londons vedkommende, og derfor at han hadde ingen sjanser der. Han vendte derfor tilbake til Dartmoore og avventet sir Henrys ankomst. ”
"We had an example of his readiness of resource that morning when he got away from us so successfully, and also of his audacity in sending back my own name to me through the cabman. From that moment he understood that I had taken over the case in London, and that therefore there was no chance for him there. He returned to Dartmoor and awaited the arrival of the baronet."
"One moment!" said I. "You have, no doubt, described the sequence of events correctly, but there is one point which you have left unexplained. What became of the hound when its master was in London?"
“ Jeg har beskjeftiget meg en del med det, og den er utvilsomt av betydning. Det kan ikke være tvil om at Stapleton hadde en fortrolig, skjønt det er ikke sannsynlig at han noensinne ga seg denne i vold ved å meddele ham alle planene sine. På Merripit-gården var det en gammel tjener ved navn Anthony. Hans forbindelser med ekteparet Stapleton kan følges flere år tilbake, så langt som til Stapletons skolemesterdager, så han må ha visst at de to virkelig var mann og kone. Denne mannen er forsvunnet, og har forlatt landet. Det er av interesse at mens Anthony ikke er noe alminnelig navn i England, er Antonio meget alminnelig i alle spanske eller spansk-amerikanske lande. Mannen snakket likesom fru Stapleton godt engelsk, men med en besynderlig lespende aksent. Jeg har selv sett denne gamle mannen gå over Grimpensumpen ad stien som Stapleton hadde staket ut. Det er derfor sannsynlig at han har passet hunden i Stapletons fravær, skjønt han vel aldri har visst hva dyret skulle brukes til.
"I have given some attention to this matter and it is undoubtedly of importance. There can be no question that Stapleton had a confidant, though it is unlikely that he ever placed himself in his power by sharing all his plans with him. There was an old manservant at Merripit House, whose name was Anthony. His connection with the Stapletons can be traced for several years, as far back as the schoolmastering days, so that he must have been aware that his master and mistress were really husband and wife. This man has disappeared and has escaped from the country. It is suggestive that Anthony is not a common name in England, while Antonio is so in all Spanish or Spanish-American countries. The man, like Mrs. Stapleton herself, spoke good English, but with a curious lisping accent. I have myself seen this old man cross the Grimpen Mire by the path which Stapleton had marked out. It is very probable, therefore, that in the absence of his master it was he who cared for the hound, though he may never have known the purpose for which the beast was used.
Ekteparet Stapleton reiste så til Devonshire, og sir Henry og De fulgte snart etter. Jeg skal nevne litt om hvordan jeg var stilt den gangen. De vil kanskje huske at da jeg undersøkte papiret som de trykte ordene var klistret på, så jeg nøye etter vannmerket. I det jeg holdt papiret opp noen tommer foran mine øyne i dette øyemed, merket jeg en svak duft av den parfymen som kalles hvit jasmin. Der finnes fem og sytti parfymer som det er ganske nødvendig for en kriminalspesialist å kunne skjelne fra hverandre, og jeg har mere enn én gang opplevd at sakens utfall har vært avhengig av en slik hurtig og bestemt gjenkjenning. Duften antydet at en dame var med i spillet, og tankene mine begynte allerede å kretse om Stapletons. Jeg hadde således både fått greie på hunden, og dannet meg en formodning om hvem forbryteren var allerede før vi reiste der vest.
"The Stapletons then went down to Devonshire, whither they were soon followed by Sir Henry and you. One word now as to how I stood myself at that time. It may possibly recur to your memory that when I examined the paper upon which the printed words were fastened I made a close inspection for the water-mark. In doing so I held it within a few inches of my eyes, and was conscious of a faint smell of the scent known as white jessamine. There are seventy-five perfumes, which it is very necessary that a criminal expert should be able to distinguish from each other, and cases have more than once within my own experience depended upon their prompt recognition. The scent suggested the presence of a lady, and already my thoughts began to turn towards the Stapletons. Thus I had made certain of the hound, and had guessed at the criminal before ever we went to the west country.
Det var min oppgave å bevokte Stapleton. Det var imidlertid klart at dette kunne jeg ikke gjøre hvis jeg var sammen med Dem, i det han da ville være omhyggelig på vakt. Jeg førte derfor alle, Dem innbefattet, bak lyset og reiste i all hemmelighet, mens man antok at jeg fortsatt var i London. De gjenvordigheter jeg gjennomgikk var ikke så store som De har trodd, og den slags bagateller må aldri spille noen rolle når det gjelder å undersøke en sak. Jeg oppholdt meg for det meste på Coombe Tracey, og benyttet kun hytten ute på moen når det var nødvendig å være i nærheten av skueplassen for begivenhetene. Cartwright hadde fulgt med meg, og forkledt som en ung landsens gutt var han til stor nytte for meg. Det var ham som skaffet meg mat og rent tøy.
"It was my game to watch Stapleton. It was evident, however, that I could not do this if I were with you, since he would be keenly on his guard. I deceived everybody, therefore, yourself included, and I came down secretly when I was supposed to be in London. My hardships were not so great as you imagined, though such trifling details must never interfere with the investigation of a case. I stayed for the most part at Coombe Tracey, and only used the hut upon the moor when it was necessary to be near the scene of action. Cartwright had come down with me, and in his disguise as a country boy he was of great assistance to me. I was dependent upon him for food and clean linen. When I was watching Stapleton, Cartwright was frequently watching you, so that I was able to keep my hand upon all the strings.
Mens jeg holdt øye med Stapleton, holdt Cartwright ofte øye med Dem, så jeg var i stand til å holde alle trådene i hendene mine. Jeg har allerede sagt Dem at Deres innberetninger nådde meg hurtig, i det de straks ble sendt fra Baker Street til Coombe Tracey. De var til stor nytte for meg, især bidragene til Stapletons biografi. Jeg ble dermed satt i stand til å fastslå mannens og kvinnens identitet, og visste endelig nøyaktig beskjed om stillingen jeg befant meg i. Saken var blitt betydelig innviklet av tilfellet med den rømte straffangen, og forholdet mellom ham og familien Barrymore. Også dette forklarte De på en meget grei måte, men jeg var allerede selv kommet til de samme slutningene gjennom mine egne iakttagelser.
"I have already told you that your reports reached me rapidly, being forwarded instantly from Baker Street to Coombe Tracey. They were of great service to me, and especially that one incidentally truthful piece of biography of Stapleton's. I was able to establish the identity of the man and the woman and knew at last exactly how I stood. The case had been considerably complicated through the incident of the escaped convict and the relations between him and the Barrymores. This also you cleared up in a very effective way, though I had already come to the same conclusions from my own observations.
Dengang De fikk se meg ute på moen, hadde jeg fullt kjennskap til hele saken, men den forelå ikke på en sånn måte at den kunne bringes for retten. Selv Stapletons attentat hin natt på sir Henry, som endte med den ulykkelige straffangens død, kunne ikke hjelpe oss stort i retning av å bevise at mannen var skyldig i mord. Det syntes ikke å være noen annen utvei enn å gripe ham på fersk gjerning, og i den anledning måtte vi bruke sir Henry som lokkemat, alene og uten beskyttelse. Det gjorde vi så, og på bekostning av å tilføye vår klient en alvorlig nerverystelse, lyktes det oss å bringe saken til full modenhet og drive Stapleton til sin undergang. At sir Henry ble utsatt for dette, må jeg tilstå at jeg betrakter som en feil ved min befatning med saken, men vi kunne jo ikke forutse hva for et fryktelig og lamslående syn dyret frembød, og heller ikke kunne vi forutsette tåken, som gjorde det mulig at overfalle oss med så knapt varsel. Vi oppnådde vår hensikt med følger som både spesialisten og doktor Mortimer forsikrer meg kun vil bli forbigående. En lang reise kan bringe vår venn helsebot ikke bare for hans rystede nerver, men også for hans sårede følelser. Hans kjærlighet til denne damen var dyp og oppriktig, og for ham var det den sørgeligste siden ved hele denne stygge historien at hun hadde narret ham.
"By the time that you discovered me upon the moor I had a complete knowledge of the whole business, but I had not a case which could go to a jury. Even Stapleton's attempt upon Sir Henry that night which ended in the death of the unfortunate convict did not help us much in proving murder against our man. There seemed to be no alternative but to catch him red-handed, and to do so we had to use Sir Henry, alone and apparently unprotected, as a bait. We did so, and at the cost of a severe shock to our client we succeeded in completing our case and driving Stapleton to his destruction. That Sir Henry should have been exposed to this is, I must confess, a reproach to my management of the case, but we had no means of foreseeing the terrible and paralyzing spectacle which the beast presented, nor could we predict the fog which enabled him to burst upon us at such short notice. We succeeded in our object at a cost which both the specialist and Dr. Mortimer assure me will be a temporary one. A long journey may enable our friend to recover not only from his shattered nerves but also from his wounded feelings. His love for the lady was deep and sincere, and to him the saddest part of all this black business was that he should have been deceived by her.
Det står nå kun tilbake å forklare hvilken rolle hun hele tiden har spillet. Det kan ikke være tvil om at Stapleton øvet et herredømme over henne som kan ha skrevet seg enten fra kjærlighet fra hennes side eller fra frykt eller meget sannsynlig fra begge deler, da disse sinnstilstander på ingen måte utelukker hverandre. Hans innflytelse virket i alle fall. På hans befaling samtykket hun i å utgi seg for hans søster, men han så grensene for sin makt over henne da han forsøkte å gjøre henne direkte medskyldig i mord. Hun ville advare sir Henry, såvidt det var mulig uten å angi sin mann, og gang på gang forsøkte hun å gjøre det. Stapleton selv synes å ha vært i stand til å nære skinsyke, og da han la merke til at sir Henry gjorde kur til henne, kunne han skjønt dette jo inngikk i hans egen plan, ikke bare seg for å gripe inn med en lidenskapelig heftighet som røpet det glødende sinnet han pleide å holde så godt skjult med sin selvbeherskelse. Ved å oppmuntre det nære vennskapsforhold mellom demm sikret han seg at sir Henry ofte kom til Merripitgården, og at det tidligere eller senere ville la seg gjøre å finne anledningen som han ønsket. Men da den kritiske dagen kom, vendte plutselig hans hustru seg i mot ham. Hun hadde hørt noe om straffangens død, og hun visste at hunden var innestengt i uthuset den aftenen da sir Henry skulle spise hos dem. Hun beskyldte sin mann for planlagt forbrytelse, og det fant sted et heftig opptrinn, hvor han for første gang lot henne få vite at hun hadde en medbeilerinne til hans kjærlighet. Hennes troskap gikk i et øyeblikk over til bittert hat, og han skjønte at hun ville forråde ham. Derfor bandt han henne for at hun ikke skulle ha noen anledning til å varsko sir Henry, og han håpet uttvildomt at når alle mennesker i egnen fant årsaken til baronettens død i hans families gamle plage, som de ganske sikkert ville gjøre, kunne han få sin hustru til å slå seg til ro med en fullbrakt kjennsgjerning og tie stille med det hun visste. Her tror jeg han forregnet seg. Selv om vi ikke hadde vært der, ville hans skjebne allikevel vært beseglet. En kvinne med spansk blod i årene tar ikke en slik fornærmelse så lett. Og nå, kjære Watson, kan jeg ikke, uten å ty til opptegnelsene mine, gi Dem noen mere detaljert fremstilling av denne eiendommelige saken. Jeg tror ikke det er noe vesentlig som ikke er blitt forklart. ”
"It only remains to indicate the part which she had played throughout. There can be no doubt that Stapleton exercised an influence over her which may have been love or may have been fear, or very possibly both, since they are by no means incompatible emotions. It was, at least, absolutely effective. At his command she consented to pass as his sister, though he found the limits of his power over her when he endeavoured to make her the direct accessory to murder. She was ready to warn Sir Henry so far as she could without implicating her husband, and again and again she tried to do so. Stapleton himself seems to have been capable of jealousy, and when he saw the baronet paying court to the lady, even though it was part of his own plan, still he could not help interrupting with a passionate outburst which revealed the fiery soul which his self-contained manner so cleverly concealed. By encouraging the intimacy he made it certain that Sir Henry would frequently come to Merripit House and that he would sooner or later get the opportunity which he desired. On the day of the crisis, however, his wife turned suddenly against him. She had learned something of the death of the convict, and she knew that the hound was being kept in the out-house on the evening that Sir Henry was coming to dinner. She taxed her husband with his intended crime, and a furious scene followed, in which he showed her for the first time that she had a rival in his love. Her fidelity turned in an instant to bitter hatred and he saw that she would betray him. He tied her up, therefore, that she might have no chance of warning Sir Henry, and he hoped, no doubt, that when the whole country-side put down the baronet's death to the curse of his family, as they certainly would do, he could win his wife back to accept an accomplished fact and to keep silent upon what she knew. In this I fancy that in any case he made a miscalculation, and that, if we had not been there, his doom would none the less have been sealed. A woman of Spanish blood does not condone such an injury so lightly. And now, my dear Watson, without referring to my notes, I cannot give you a more detailed account of this curious case. I do not know that anything essential has been left unexplained."
"He could not hope to frighten Sir Henry to death as he had done the old uncle with his bogie hound."
"The beast was savage and half-starved. If its appearance did not frighten its victim to death, at least it would paralyze the resistance which might be offered."
“ Ganske visst. Der står kun en vanskelighet tilbake. Hvis Stapleton kom i besittelse av godset ved arv, hvordan ville han da kunne forklare omstendigheten at han, arvingen, hadde bodd under et annet navn rett ved eiendommen ? Hvordan kunne han gjøre krav på godset uten å vekke mistanke og foranledige undersøkelser ? ”
"No doubt. There only remains one difficulty. If Stapleton came into the succession, how could he explain the fact that he, the heir, had been living unannounced under another name so close to the property? How could he claim it without causing suspicion and inquiry?"
“ Dette er en forferdelig vanskelighet, og jeg er redd for De krever for meget når De vil ha meg til å løse den. Fortid og nåtid ligger innenfor mine undersøkelsers område, men hva en mann kan gjøre i fremtiden, det er et vanskelig spørsmål å besvare. Fru Stapleton har hørt sin mann drøfte dette problemet ved flere anledninger. Der var tre veier som det var mulig å gå. Han kunne gjøre krav på eiendommen fra Syd-Amerika, godtgjøre sin identitet overfor de derværende britiske autoriteter, og derved få arven uten overhodet å komme tilbake til England. Eller han kunne anlegge en ombyggelig utført forkledning og maskering i den korte tiden han behøvde å oppholde seg i London. Eller også kunne han overgi papirer og bevis til en medskyldig, innsette ham som arving, og betinge seg en viss del av inntektene. Etter alt hva vi vet om ham, kan vi ikke tvile på at han ville ha funnet en eller annen vei ut av vanskelighetene. Og nå, min kjære Watson, har vi hatt hardt arbeide i noen uker, og for en enkelt aften kan vi vel vende våre tanker hen på mere fornøyelige ting. Jeg har en losje i teatret til oppførelsen av “ Hugenottene ”. Har De hørt de Reszkes ? Jeg må da uleilige Dem med å være klar om en halv time, så kan vi gå innom Marcinis kafé underveis og få noe å spise. ”
"It is a formidable difficulty, and I fear that you ask too much when you expect me to solve it. The past and the present are within the field of my inquiry, but what a man may do in the future is a hard question to answer. Mrs. Stapleton has heard her husband discuss the problem on several occasions. There were three possible courses. He might claim the property from South America, establish his identity before the British authorities there and so obtain the fortune without ever coming to England at all; or he might adopt an elaborate disguise during the short time that he need be in London; or, again, he might furnish an accomplice with the proofs and papers, putting him in as heir, and retaining a claim upon some proportion of his income. We cannot doubt from what we know of him that he would have found some way out of the difficulty. And now, my dear Watson, we have had some weeks of severe work, and for one evening, I think, we may turn our thoughts into more pleasant channels. I have a box for 'Les Huguenots.' Have you heard the De Reszkes? Might I trouble you then to be ready in half an hour, and we can stop at Marcini's for a little dinner on the way?"