Sherlock Holmes had, in a very remarkable degree, the powerof detaching his mind at will. For two hours the strange businessin which we had been involved appeared to be forgotten, and hewas entirely absorbed in the pictures of the modern Belgianmasters. He would talk of nothing but art, of which he had thecrudest ideas, from our leaving the gallery until we found ourselves at the Northumberland Hotel.

"Sir Henry Baskerville is upstairs expecting you," said theclerk. "He asked me to show you up at once when you came."

"Have you any objection to my looking at your register?"said Holmes.

"Not in the least."

The book showed that two names had been added after that ofBaskerville. 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 toknow," said Holmes to the porter. "A lawyer, is he not, grayheaded, and walks with a limp?"

"No, sir, this is Mr. Johnson, the coal-owner, a very activegentleman, not older than yourself."

"Surely you are mistaken about his trade?"

"No, sir! he has used this hotel for many years, and he is verywell known to us."

"Ah, that settles it. Mrs. Oldmore, too; I seem to rememberthe name. Excuse my curiosity, but often in calling upon onefriend one finds another."

"She is an invalid lady, sir. Her husband was once mayor ofGloucester. She always comes to us when she is in town."

"Thank you; I am afraid I cannot claim her acquaintance. Wehave 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 ourfriend have not settled down in his own hotel. That means thatwhile they are, as we have seen, very anxious to watch him, theyare equally anxious that he should not see them. Now, this is amost suggestive fact."

"What does it suggest?"

"It suggests -- halloa, my dear fellow, what on earth is thematter?"

As we came round the top of the stairs we had run up againstSir Henry Baskerville himself. His face was flushed with anger,and he held an old and dusty boot in one of his hands. So furiouswas he that he was hardly articulate, and when he did speak itwas in a much broader and more Western dialect than any whichwe had heard from him in the morning.

"Seems to me they are playing me for a sucker in this hotel,"he cried. "They'll find they've stafted in to monkey with thewrong man unless they are careful. By thunder, if that chap can'tfind my missing boot there will be trouble. I can take a joke withthe best, Mr. Holmes, but they've got a bit over the mark thistime."

"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."

"What! you don't mean to say ?"

"That's just what I do mean to say. I only had three pairs inthe world -- the new brown, the old black, and the patent leathers, which I am wearing. Last night they took one of my brownones, and to-day they have sneaked one of the black. Well, haveyou 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 hearno word of it."

"Well, either that boot comes back before sundown or I'll seethe manager and tell him that I go right straight out of thishotel."

"It shall be found, sir -- I promise you that if you will have alittle patience it will be found."

"Mind it is, for it's the last thing of mine that I'll lose in thisden of thieves. Well, well, Mr. Holmes, you'll excuse mytroubling you about such a trifle --"

"I think it's well worth troubling about."

"Why, you look very serious over it."

"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."

"The queerest perhaps --" said Holmes thoughtfully.

"What do you make of it yourself?"

"Well, I don't profess to understand it yet. This case of yoursis very complex, Sir Henry. When taken in conjunction withyour uncle's death I am not sure that of all the five hundred casesof capital importance which I have handled there is one whichcuts so deep. But we hold several threads in our hands, and theodds are that one or other of them guides us to the truth. We maywaste time in following the wrong one, but sooner or later wemust come upon the right."

We had a pleasant luncheon in which little was said of thebusiness which had brought us together. It was in the privatesitting-room to which we afterwards repaired that Holmes askedBaskerville what were his intentions.

"To go to Baskerville Hall."

"And when?"

"At the end of the week."

"On the whole," said Holmes, "I think that your decision is awise one. I have ample evidence that you are being dogged inLondon, and amid the millions of this great city it is difficult todiscover who these people are or what their object can be. Iftheir intentions are evil they might do you a mischief, and weshould be powerless to prevent it. You did not know, Dr.Moftimer, that you were followed this morning from my house?"

Dr. Mortimer started violently.

"Followed! By whom?"

"That, unfortunately, is what I cannot tell you. Have youamong your neighbours or acquaintances on Daftmoor any manwith a black, full beard?"

"No -- or, let me see -- why, yes. Barrymore, Sir Charles'sbutler, is a man with a full, black beard."

"Ha! Where is Baffymore?"

"He is in charge of the Hall."

"We had best ascertain if he is really there, or if by anypossibility he might be in London."

"How can you do that?"

"Give me a telegraph form. 'Is all ready for Sir Henry?' Thatwill do. Address to Mr. Barrymore, Baskerville Hall. What isthe nearest telegraph-office? Grimpen. Very good, we will senda second wire to the postmaster, Grimpen: 'Telegram to Mr.Barrymore to be delivered into his own hand. If absent, pleasereturn wire to Sir Henry Baskerville, Northumberland Hotel.'That should let us know before evening whether Barrymore is athis 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 havelooked after the Hall for four generations now. So far as I know,he and his wife are as respectable a couple as any in thecounty."

"At the same time," said Baskerville, "it's clear enough thatso long as there are none of the family at the Hall these peoplehave a mighty fine home and nothing to do."

"That is true."

"Did Barrymore profit at all by Sir Charles's will?" askedHolmes.

"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 wlll."

"That is very interesting."

"I hope," said Dr. Mortimer, "that you do not look withsuspicious eyes upon everyone who received a legacy from SirCharles, for I also had a thousand pounds left to me."

"Indeed! And anyone else?"

"There were many insignificant sums to individuals, and alarge number of public charities. The residue all went to SirHenry."

"And how much was the residue?"

"Seven hundred and forty thousand pounds."

Holmes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I had no idea that sogigantic a sum was involved," said he.

"Sir Charles had the reputation of being rich, but we did notknow how very rich he was until we came to examine hissecurities. 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 adesperate game. And one more question, Dr. Mortimer. Supposing that anything happened to our young friend here -- you willforgive the unpleasant hypothesis! -- who would inherit the estate?"

"Since Rodger Baskerville, Sir Charles's younger brotherdied unmarried, the estate would descend to the Desmonds, whoare distant cousins. James Desmond is an elderly clergyman inWestmoreland."

"Thank you. These details are all of great interest. Have youmet Mr. James Desmond?"

"Yes; he once came down to visit Sir Charles. He is a man ofvenerable appearance and of saintly life. I remember that herefused to accept any settlement from Sir Charles, though hepressed it upon him."

"And this man of simple tastes would be the heir to SirCharles'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 willedotherwise by the present owner, who can, of course, do what helikes with it."

"And have you made your will, Sir Henry?"

"No, Mr. Holmes, I have not. I've had no time, for it wasonly yesterday that I learned how matters stood. But in any caseI feel that the money should go with the title and estate. Thatwas my poor uncle's idea. How is the owner going to restore theglories of the Baskervilles if he has not money enough to keepup the property? House, land, and dollars must go together."

"Quite so. Well, Sir Henry, I am of one mind with you as tothe advisability of your going down to Devonshire without delay.There is only one provision which I must make. You certainlymust not go alone."

"Dr. Mortimer returns with me."

"But Dr. Mortimer has his practice to attend to, and his houseis miles away from yours. With all the good will in the world hemay be unable to help you. No, Sir Henry, you must take withyou someone, a trusty man, who will be always by your side."

"Is it possible that you could come yourself, Mr. Holmes?"

"If matters came to a crisis I should endeavour to be presentin person; but you can understand that, with my extensive consulting practice and with the constant appeals which reach mefrom many quarters, it is impossible for me to be absent fromLondon for an indefinite time. At the present instant one of themost revered names in England is being besmirched by a blackmailer, and only I can stop a disastrous scandal. You will seehow impossible it is for me to go to Dartmoor."

"Whom would you recommend, then?"

Holmes laid his hand upon my arm.

"If my friend would undertake it there is no man who is betterworth having at your side when you are in a tight place. No onecan say so more confidently than I."

The proposition took me completely by surprise, but before Ihad time to answer, Baskerville seized me by the hand andwrung 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 aboutthe matter as I do. If you will come down to Baskerville Hall andsee 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 theeagerness with which the baronet hailed me as a companion.

"I will come, with pleasure," said I. "I do not know how Icould 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 shallact. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?"

"Would that suit Dr. Watson?"

"Perfectly."

"Then on Saturday, unless you hear to the contrary, we shallmeet at the ten-thirty 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 brownboot from under a cabinet.

"My missing boot!" he cried.

"May all our difficulties vanish as easily!" said SherlockHolmes.

"But it is a very, singular thing," Dr. Mortimer remarked. "Isearched this room carefully before lunch."

"And so did I," said Baskerville. "Every, inch of it."

"There was certainly no boot in it then."

"In that case the waiter must have placed it there while wewere lunching."

The German was sent for but professed to know nothing of thematter, nor could any inquiry, clear it up. Another item had beenadded to that constant and apparently purposeless series of smallmysteries which had succeeded each other so rapidly. Settingaside the whole grim story, of Sir Charles's death, we had a lineof inexplicable incidents all within the limits of two days, whichincluded the receipt of the printed letter, the black-bearded spy inthe hansom, the loss of the new brown boot, the loss of the oldblack boot, and now the return of the new brown boot. Holmessat in silence in the cab as we drove back to Baker Street, and Iknew from his drawn brows and keen face that his mind, like myown, was busy in endeavouring to frame some scheme intowhich all these strange and apparently disconnected episodescould be fitted. All afternoon and late into the evening he sat lostin tobacco and thought.

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.

CARTWRlGHT.

"There go two of my threads, Watson. There is nothing morestimulating than a case where everything goes against you. Wemust cast round for another scent."

"We have still the cabman who drove the spy."

"Exactly. I haw wired to get his name and address from theOfficial Registry. I should not be surprised if this were ananswer to my question."

The ring at the bell proved to be something even more satisfactory than an answer, however, for the door opened and arough-looking fellow entered who was evidently the man himself.

"I got a message from the head office that a gent at thisaddress had been inquiring for No. 2704," said he. "I've drivenmy cab this seven years and never a word of complaint. I camehere straight from the Yard to ask you to your face what you hadagainst me."

"I have nothing in the world against you, my good man,"said Holmes. "On the contrary, I have half a sovereign for youif you will give me a clear answer to my questions."

"Well, I've had a good day and no mistake," said the cabmanwith a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask, sir?"

"First of all your name and address, in case I want youagain."

"John Clayton, 3 Turpey Street, the Borough. My cab is outof Shipley's Yard, near Waterloo Station."

Sherlock Holmes made a note of it.

"Now, Clayton, tell me all about the fare who came andwatched this house at ten o'clock this morning and afterwardsfollowed the two gentlemen down Regent Street."

The man looked surprised and a little embarrassed. "Whythere's no good my telling you things, for you seem to know asmuch as I do already," said he. "The truth is that the gentlemantold me that he was a detective and that I was to say nothingabout him to anyone."

"My good fellow; this is a very serious business, and youmay find yourself in a pretty bad position if you try to hideanything from me. You say that your fare told you that he was adetective?"

"Yes, he did."

"When did he say this?"

"When he left me."

"Did he say anything more?"

"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 thename that he mentioned?"

"His name," said the cabman, "was Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Never have I seen my friend more completely taken abackthan by the cabman's reply. For an instant he sat in silentamazement. Then he burst into a hearty laugh.

"A touch, Watson -- an undeniable touch!" said he. "I feel afoil as quick and supple as my own. He got home upon me veryprettily that time. So his name was Sherlock Holmes, was it?"

"Yes, sir, that was the gentleman's name."

"Excellent! Tell me where you picked him up and all thatoccurred."

"He hailed me at half-past nine in Trafalgar Square. He saidthat he was a detective, and he offered me two guineas if I woulddo exactly what he wanted all day and ask no questions. I wasglad enough to agree. First we drove down to the NorthumberlandHotel and waited there until two gentlemen came out and took acab from the rank. We followed their cab until it pulled upsomewhere near here."

"This very door," said Holmes.

"Well, I couldn't be sure of that, but I dare say my fare knewall about it. We pulled up halfway down the street and waited anhour and a half. Then the two gentlemen passed us, walking, andwe followed down Baker Street and along --"

"I know," said Holmes.

"Until we got three-quarters down Regent Street. Then mygentleman threw up the trap, and he cried that I should driveright away to Waterloo Station as hard as I could go. I whippedup the mare and we were there under the ten minutes. Then hepaid up his two guineas, like a good one, and away he went intothe station. Only just as he was leaving he turned round and hesaid: 'It might interest you to know that you have been drivingMr. Sherlock Holmes.' That's how I come to know the name."

"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 altogethersuch an easy gentleman to describe. I'd put him at forty years ofage, and he was of a middle height, two or three inches shorterthan you, sir. He was dressed like a toff, and he had a blackbeard, cut square at the end, and a pale face. I don't know as Icould say more than that."

"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 onewaiting for you if you can bring any more information.Good-night!"

"Good-night, sir, and thank you!"

John Clayton departed chuckling, and Holmes turned to mewith a shrug of his shoulders and a rueful smile.

"Snap goes our third thread, and we end where we began,"said he. "The cunning rascal! He knew our number, knew thatSir Henry Baskerville had consulted me, spotted who I was inRegent Street, conjectured that I had got the number of the caband would lay my hands on the driver, and so sent back thisaudacious message. I tell you, Watson, this time we have got afoeman who is worthy of our steel. I've been checkmated inLondon. I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'mnot easy in my mind about it."

"About what?"

"About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an uglydangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yesmy dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that Ishall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in BakerStreet once more."