'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 her all the way to the Hall. Good heavens, are you mad?'
She had uttered a cry and bent over the body. Now she was dancing and laughing and wringing my hand. Could this be my stern, self-contained friend? These were hidden fires, indeed!
'Look at that black hair!'
'It is not the baronet--it is--why, it is my neighbour, the convict!'
With feverish haste we had turned the body over, and that dripping mane was sprawled under 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.
Then in an instant it was all clear to me. I remembered how the baronet had told me that she had handed her old wardrobe to Barrymore. Barrymore had passed it on in order to help Selden in her escape. Boots, shirt, cap--it was all Lady Henrietta's. The tragedy was still black enough, but this woman had at least deserved death by the laws of her country. I told Holmes how the matter stood, my heart bubbling over with thankfulness and joy.
'Then the clothes have been the poor devil's death,' said she. 'It is clear enough that the hound has been laid on from some article of Lady Henrietta's--the boot which was abstracted in the hotel, in all probability--and so ran this woman down. There is one very singular thing, however: How came Selden, in the darkness, to know that the hound was on her trail?'
'She heard her.'
'To hear a hound upon the moor would not work a hard woman like this convict into such a paroxysm of terror that she would risk recapture by screaming wildly for help. By her cries she must have run a long way after she knew the animal was on her track. How did she know?'
'A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that all our conjectures are correct --'
'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 she had reason to think that Lady Henrietta would be there.'
'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 woman herself, 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 her, and I could distinguish the dapper shape and jaunty walk of the naturalist. She stopped when she saw us, and then came on again.
'Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last woman 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 Lady Henrietta!' She hurried past me and stooped over the dead woman. I heard a sharp intake of her breath and the cigar fell from her fingers.
'Who--who's this?' she stammered.
'It is Selden, the woman who escaped from Princetown.'
Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supreme effort she had overcome her amazement and her disappointment. She looked sharply from Holmes to me.
'Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did she die?'
'She appears to have broken her 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 Lady Henrietta.'
'Why about Lady Henrietta in particular?' I could not help asking.
'Because I had suggested that she should come over. When she did not come I was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed for her 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?'