Mycroft Holmes

Diogenes Club

No. 15 Pall Mall, London

Dear Brother,

I write to you in secret knowing, should I divulge this information to my particular friend, all might become known to the public at large. Not that I do not trust the good doctor, only that he might at some point in the future inadvertently reveal the nature of the events as I have witnessed, rather than as he has recorded them. While his story will, I am sure, be accurate as it relates to the case upon which I was engaged by Sir Henry Baskerville, it cannot cover all that transpired upon the moors.

As you know, after my visit to you I travelled to Coombe Tracey and thence to the village of Grimpen and the moorland surrounding Princetown Prison. The Grimpen Mire was not the most hospitable environment I have ever encountered, but a prehistoric hut, once properly provisioned, made for a snug hide from which I conducted the bulk of my investigation. I will not burden you with details here, only that the moor is as you would expect it to be: A wide, desolate expanse of rolling downs with copses of brush and marshy fens sparsely settled.

I was well on the track of the murderer of Sir Charles Baskerville and had uncovered many clues to his identity when on a certain night I ventured from my hut to observe the night time activities of the remote households upon the moor with a mind to discover where the supposed spectral hound I told you of was kenneled. It was upon that night I discovered Selden the escaped convict. He had secreted himself among a cluster of boulders atop an up thrusting of rock. In his hand was a small lantern and by its light he had given his location away. It took only a moment of observation for me to understand he was signaling to someone in Baskerville Hall. I lay concealed long enough to observe a man I took to be the butler, Barrymore, come from a side door with a package.

While I lay in among the stones of a hilltop overlooking Barrymore's path I observed a most peculiar sight. Crossing the moor at a great distance was a glowing nimbus. I thought it no more than swamp gas at first. Yet, as I observed it, the nimbus moved rapidly across a shallow valley making its way toward the Hall. Using my spyglass I marked it as a great hound with fiery eyes and a green glow about its whole body. I have never seen the like in all my days. I might say, also, that the creature agreed in all particulars with the stories of the local farmers and shepherds. Indeed, it conformed to the description found in the Baskerville legend. And yet there was an even stranger incident. When Barrymore crossed not twenty yards below it, the beast did not strike. It lay in a fold of the ground watching as I was myself watching. Barrymore never noticed it owing, I think, to a small outcropping of stone behind which the animal lay. Returning to the hall Barrymore passed along the same path and again the beast let him be. Only after the butler had closed the door behind himself did the creature stand upon a large stone and howl. Then it sprang from the stone and with amazing speed it shot across the moorland in the direction of Merripit House. I quickly lost sight of it in the folds of the ground and a fog that seemed to billow up from the earth in its passing.

Having observed this phenomenon, I felt the need for brandy and indulged myself. Mycroft, I have never felt such a weight of relief as I did when the creature vanished from my sight. I am not a superstitious man, as you well know, but I do believe in the powers of darkness. I was not convinced at that point what I had witnessed was anything other than a flesh and blood hound somehow made up to conform to the old tales of the local inhabitants. The feeling I was left with, however, forced me to consider otherwise.

On the next day I retraced my steps to the vicinity of the Hall, making certain I could not be observed. I had taken the precaution of donning the garb of a vagabond so as not to give myself away should someone chance to cross my path unexpectedly. I centered my search on the area I believed the hound had lingered the previous night. I found nothing. No trace or track. From there I walked the route I had observed the hound to have taken, all to no avail. Even in the springy turf of the downs I should have found tracks or at the very least tears in the grass or claw marks in the patches of bare soil. I was confounded and finally gave up my search in favor of spying upon the residents of Merripit House.

Several nights later I was again abroad upon the moor in the vicinity of Baskerville Hall. I watched as Selden made his signal and received his answer from one of the upper windows. On this night the signal from the Hall was repeated, however. This struck me as odd and I watched with interest when, after a short delay, Dr. Watson and Sir Henry ventured out. Again this night the nimbus of the hound crossed the moor to the point from which it had observed the butler previously. You will understand I could not risk the lives of my friend and client, so quickly I struck out along a ridge keeping the creature in my sight at all times. It was a frightful run and I am quite amazed that I did not injure myself seriously crossing such treacherous ground. I was roughly half way to the beast when I heard a cry of rage and the clatter of a heavy stone. I learned later that Selden had cast a small boulder at his would be captors and then made off across the rocky hillock. Indeed, he crossed my path as I turned back to be sure my friends were not harmed. I fear in my haste and concern I allowed myself to be silhouetted against the moon and Watson saw me. Realizing my mistake, I ducked under cover. It was at that point I heard the baying of the great hound. When I looked, however, the creature I had originally seen was standing with its nose in the air as if sniffing for a scent. I scanned about and spied another beast in the distance. It too glowed but not so brightly as the fell light of the first creature. Too, it was not so large nor did I feel the anxiety I had upon sighting the monster two nights earlier. This then was a new concern. Were there two beasts upon the moor? As I had witnessed both of them, the conclusion was obvious. Yet, why two?

Needing to resolve the case in hand before murder could be done again, I chose to investigate the second beast. As was eventually proved through my inquiries, and as will be disclosed in Dr. Watson's account of the case, the second hound was purely a corporeal being. A wretched, abused dog made vicious by the ill treatment of a most cunning, ruthless man. Stapleton (His proper name is Robert Baskerville. I will continue to use his alias in order to avoid confusion.) paid the ultimate price for his crimes. It is his eventual fate that concerns me.

I will detail the particulars to you when we meet. For the moment be content with the fact that I formulated a plan and as a group we acted upon it. It was a near run thing, but Sir Henry survived his encounter with Stapleton's hound thanks in no small part to Watson's courage and steady shooting. By the time we returned to Merripit House, Stapleton had fled. Watson and I were able to track his path to the mire and a very short way into it. The mire is no place for a casual stroll, my dear Mycroft. 'Treacherous' does not begin to describe it. Therefore, the next day we were guided by Stapleton's wife, who had been posing as his sister, to the very spot where he had kenneled his dog, a disused tin mine. I can say with confidence that neither Watson nor Mrs. Stapleton saw the marks upon the ground of the man's feet. Given the general conditions there about, I myself was hard pressed to put together the scene. I found no fresh prints of any hound nor any other prints save those of Stapleton. They circled and pivoted as if the man were uncertain of pursuit. There were scuff marks as though he had backed rapidly away from something and there was a great indentation where he must have fallen to the ground with a great weight upon his chest. I drew Watson away from the area as quickly as I could. Watson had done some hunting while in India and his skills in detection are better than average, though he will never admit it. I could not risk him discovering what I had.

Mycroft, you must send a pair of your Ghillies to Dartmoor. If at all possible convince the most astute Mr. Flaxman Low to accompany them in all haste. Watson was able to persuade Dr. Mortimer to take Sir Henry away from the place on a tour of the world in order that the Baronet should recover his health. They depart in two weeks and will be absent for no less than six months, probably much longer. In that time your men may lay this phantom to rest. If it is not possible we shall need to dissuade Sir Henry from occupying the Hall. Should he do so, I fear it is only a matter of time before the Baskerville line will be extinct. I urge you to act with alacrity. Use your influence as you think best, but do not delay. The Hound may go dormant when Sir Henry leaves the Hall. That would be the next worst thing that could happen.

Watson and I return to London in two days. Should you require me, I will be at your disposal.

Sincerely, your brother,

Sherlock Holmes

Coombe Tracey, Devonshire