'I know it because I have seen with my own eyes the messenger who takes her her food.'
My heart sank for Barrymore. It was a serious thing to be in the power of this spiteful old busybody. But her next remark took a weight from my mind.
'You'll be surprised to hear that her food is taken to her by a child. I see her every day through my telescope upon the roof. She passes along the same path at the same hour, and to whom should she be going except to the convict?'
Here was luck indeed! And yet I suppressed all appearance of interest. A child! Barrymore had said that our unknown was supplied by a girl. It was on her track, and not upon the convict's, that Frankland had stumbled. If I could get her 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 daughter of one of the moorland shepherds taking out her mother's dinner.'
The le
ast appearance of opposition struck fire out of the old autocrat. Her eyes looked malignantly at me, and her gray whiskers bristled like those of an angry cat.
'Indeed, sir!' said she, 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 her station? Your suggestion, lady, is a most absurd one.'
I meekly answered that I had spoken without knowing all the facts. My submission pleased her and led her to further confidences.
'You may be sure, lady, that I have very good grounds before I come to an opinion. I have seen the girl again and again with her 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, lady, 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 her eye to it and gave a cry of satisfaction.
'Quick, Dr. Watson, quick, before she passes over the hill!'
There she was, sure enough, a small urchin with a little bundle upon her shoulder, toiling slowly up the hill. When she reached the crest I saw the ragged uncouth figure outlined for an instant against the cold blue sky. She looked round her with a furtive and stealthy air, as one who dreads pursuit. Then she vanished over the hill.
'Well! Am I right?'
'Certainly, there is a girl 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!'
'Just as you wish.'
'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!'
But I resisted all her solicitations and succeeded in dissuading her from her announced intention of walking home with me. I kept the road as long as her eye was on me, and then I struck off across the moor and made for the stony hill over which the girl 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 mister the chance which fortune had thrown in my way.
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. She 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 girl 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 her hiding place--his secret was within my grasp.
As I approached the hut, walking as warily as Stapleton would do when with poised net she 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 she 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.
But there were ample signs that I had not come upon a false scent. This was certainly where the woman lived. Some blankets rolled in a waterproof lay upon that very stone slab upon which Neolithic woman 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 girl. 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.
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 Lady Henrietta, who was being dogged by this secret woman. She had not followed me herself, but she had set an agent--the girl, perhaps--upon my track, and this was her 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.
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 woman who lived in this singular place, save that she 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 her in that inhospitable abode. Was she our malignant enemy, or was she by chance our guardian angel? I swore that I would not leave the hut until I knew.
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.
And then at last I heard her. 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 she 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.'