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Capitol 12: Un mori sur la stepe

Chapter 12. Death on the Moor

Tra un momento o du, me ia senta sin respira, apena capas de crede mea oreas. A pos, mea sensas e mea vose ia reveni a me, con ce un pesa crasente de encarga ia pare levada de mea alma en un instante. Acel vose fria, taliante, ironiosa ia pote parteni a sola un om en tota la mundo.

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!” – me ia esclama. “Holmes!”

“Holmes!” I cried – “Holmes!”

“Sorti,” – el ia dise – “e atende la revolver, per favore.”

“Come out,” said he, “and please be careful with the revolver.”

Me ia curvi su la lintel cru, e ala el ia senta sur un roca a estra, con sua oios gris en un dansa divertida cuando los ia turna a mea espresa stonada. El ia es magra e gastada, ma clar e enerjiosa, con fas zelosa bronzida par la sol e ruida par la venta. En sua completa de tuid e xapeta de stofa el ia aspeta como cualce otra turiste sur la stepe, e el ia reali, par acel ama gatin de limpia personal cual ia es un de sua cualias, ce sua mento es tan lisa e sua vestes tan perfeta como si el ta es en Strada Baker.

I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stone outside, his grey 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 catlike 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.

“Me ia es nunca plu felis de vide cualcun en mea vive.” – me ia dise, forte presante manos con el.

“I never was more glad to see anyone in my life,” said I as I wrung him by the hand.

“O plu stonada, si?”

“Or more astonished, eh?”

“Bon, me debe confesa lo.”

“Well, I must confess to it.”

“La surprende no ia es tota a un lado, me serti tu. Me ia ave no idea ce tu ia trova mea refujeria periodal, e an min ce tu es a interna de lo, asta cuando me ia es a dudes pasos de la porte.”

“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.”

“Mea impresa de pede, me suposa?”

“My footprint, I presume?”

“No, Watson, me teme ce me no ta emprende reconose tua impresa de pede entre tota la impresas de pede de la mundo. Si tu desira seria engana me, tu va debe cambia tua tabaciste; car cuando me vide la peseta de un sigareta con la indica Bradley, Strada Oxford, me sabe ce mea ami Watson es en la visineria. Tu pote vide lo ala a lado de la vieta. Tu ia lansa lo, sin duta, a acel momento suprema cuando tu ia entra atacosa a la cabana vacua.”

“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.”

“Esata.”

“Exactly.”

“Me ia suposa lo – e, conosente tua persiste amirable, me ia es convinseda ce tu senta emboscente, con un arma prosima, espetante la reveni de la abitor. Donce tu ia pensa vera ce me es la criminor?”

“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?”

“Me no ia sabe ci tu es, ma me ia es determinada per descovre.”

“I did not know who you were, but I was determined to find out.”

“Eselente, Watson! E como tu ia locali me? Tu ia vide me, cisa, a la note de la xasa de la prisonida, cuando me ia es tan nonatendente ce me ia permete la luna levante a formi un fondo pos me.”

“Excellent, Watson! And how did you localise 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?”

“Si, me ia vide tu alora.”

“Yes, I saw you then.”

“E ia xerca, sin duta, tota la cabanas asta veni a esta?”

“And have no doubt searched all the huts until you came to this one?”

“No, tua xico ia es oservada, e esta ia gida me a do me debe esplora.”

“No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guide where to look.”

“La senior vea con la telescopio, sin duta. Me no ia pote comprende lo cuando me ia vide prima la lus rebrilietante de la lente.” – El ia sta se e ia regarda en la cabana. – “Ha, me vide ca Carter ia trae alga furnis. Cual es esta paper? Donce tu ia vade a Vale Tracey, si?”

“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?”

“Si.”

“Yes.”

“Per vide Sra Laura Lyons?”

“To see Mrs. Laura Lyons?”

“Esata.”

“Exactly.”

“Bon fada! Nosa esploras ia segue evidente linias paralel, e cuando nos va uni nosa resultas, me espeta ce nos va ave sabes alga completa sur la caso.”

“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.”

“Bon, me es felis de mea cor ce tu es asi, car vera la encarga e la misterio ia comensa ambos deveni tro multe per mea nervos. Ma par nom de mervelia, como tu ia veni asi, e cual tu ia fa? Me ia crede ce tu es en Strada Baker, solvente acel caso de estorse.”

“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.”

“Me ia desira ce tu crede acel.”

“That was what I wished you to think.”

“Alora tu usa me, e an tal no fida me!” – me ia esclama con alga amargia. “Me opina ce me ia merita un trata plu bon de tu, Holmes.”

“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.”

“Mea cara bonom, tu ia es ultra valua per me en esta como en multe otra casos, e me solisita ce tu va pardona me si lo pare ce me ia engana tu. En fato, me ia fa lo partal per tua propre securia, e mea reconose de la peril cual tu risca ia es lo cual ia gida me a veni asi e esamina mesma la situa. Si me ta es con Sir Henry e tu, lo es serta ce mea opina ia ta es la mesma como la tua, e mea presentia ia ta averti nosa oposores multe capas a garda se. Ma en esta state, me ia pote vaga como me ia ta pote fa a no grado si me ia ta abita en la Cason, e me resta un fator nonconoseda en la caso, preparada per ajunta tota mea pesa a un momento de crise.”

“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.”

“Ma perce tu no ia esplica a me?”

“But why keep me in the dark?”

“Si tu ia ta sabe, esta no ia ta aida nos e cisa ia ta gida on a descovre me. Tu ia ta desira informa me sur alga cosa, o par tua jentilia tu ia ta porta a me alga cosa comfortante, e tal un risca nonesesada ta es fada. Veninte asi, me ia prende con me Carter – tu recorda la om peti a la ofisia de mesajores – e el ia furni mea desiras simple: un pan e un colar limpa. Como un om ta desira plu? El ia dona a me un duple de oios ajuntada sur un duple de pedes multe ativa, e ambos ia es ultra valua.”

“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.”

“Alora tota mea reportas ia es perida!” Mea vose ia trema cuando me ia recorda la laborosia e la orgulo con cual me ia composa los.

“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 ia estrae un faxo de paperes de sua pox.

Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket.

“Asi es tua reportas, mea cara bonom, e vera multe lejeda, me serti tu. Me ia organiza un sistem eselente, e los es retardada en via par mera un dia. Me debe estrema loda tu sur la zelo e la intelijentia cual tu ia mostra a tema de un caso estracomun difisil.”

“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.”

Me ia es ancora alga ofendeda par la engana cual ia es dirijeda a me, ma la zelo de la loda par Holmes ia puxa mea coleria de mea mente. Me ia senti ance en mea cor ce el dise coreta e ce vera lo ia es la plu bon per nosa projeta ce me no ia sabe ce el es sur la stepe.

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.

“Plu felis.” – el ia dise, vidente ce la ombra desapare de mea fas. “E aora informa me sur la resulta de tua visita a Sra Laura Lyons – no difisil per me ia es divina ce tu ia vade per vide el, car me es ja consensa ce el es la sola person en Vale Tracey ci pote aida nos en la caso. En fato, si tu no ta vade oji, lo es estrema probable ce me ta vade doman.”

“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 today it is exceedingly probable that I should have gone tomorrow.”

La sol ia reposa ja e la note ia es desendente supra la stepe. La aira ia deveni fria e nos ia retira nos a la cabana per caldia. Ala, sentante en junta en la duilus, me ia raconta a Holmes mea conversa con la dama. El ia es tan interesada ce me ia debe repete partes de lo a du veses ante cuando el ia es contente.

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.

“Esta es multe importante.” – el ia dise cuando me ia fini. “Lo pleni un canion cual me ia es noncapas de ponti en esta caso la plu complicada. Tu sabe, cisa, ce un intimia prosima esiste entre esta dama e la om Stapleton?”

“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?”

“Me no ia es consensa de un intimia prosima.”

“I did not know of a close intimacy.”

“On pote ave no duta sur lo. Los encontra, los coresponde, on ave un comprende completa entre los. Bon, esta pone un arma multe potiosa en nosa manos. Si me ta pote mera usa lo per desfisa sua sposa —”

“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 —”

“Sua sposa?”

“His wife?”

“Me dona a tu alga informa aora, par intercambia per tota cual tu ia dona a me. La dama ci ia es asetada asi como Senioreta Stapleton es en realia sua sposa.”

“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.”

“Par la sielo, Holmes! Esce tu es serta sur lo cual tu dise? Como el ia pote permete Sir Henry a deveni enamada par el?”

“Good heavens, Holmes! Are you sure of what you say? How could he have permitted Sir Henry to fall in love with her?”

“La enama de Sir Henry ia pote dana nun otra ca Sir Henry. El ia atende spesial ce Sir Henry no cortea el, como tu mesma ia oserva. Me repete ce la dama es sua sposa e no sua sore.”

“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.”

“Ma perce la engana complicada?”

“But why this elaborate deception?”

“Car el ia previde ce sua sposa va es vera multe plu usosa a el en la rol de un fem libre.”

“Because he foresaw that she would be very much more useful to him in the character of a free woman.”

Tota mea instintos nonespresada, mea suspetas neblosa, ia prende subita un forma e ia sentri a la naturiste. En acel om nonemosiosa e sin color, con sua capel de palia e rede per papilios, me ia pare vide un cosa asustante – un creada de pasientia e rusosia infinita, con fas suriente e cor matante.

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.

“El, donce, es la person ci es nosa enemi – el es la person ci ia spia nos en London?”

“It is he, then, who is our enemy – it is he who dogged us in London?”

“Tal me leje la enigma.”

“So I read the riddle.”

“E la averti – lo ia veni serta de la sposa!”

“And the warning – it must have come from her!”

“Esata.”

“Exactly.”

La forma de alga vilia monstrin, partal videda, partal divinada, ia emerji tra la oscuria par cual me ia es tan longa ensircada.

The shape of some monstrous villainy, half seen, half guessed, loomed through the darkness which had girt me so long.

“Ma esce tu es serta sur esta, Holmes? Como tu sabe ce la fem es sua sposa?”

“But are you sure of this, Holmes? How do you know that the woman is his wife?”

“Car el ia es tan nonatendente ce el ia dise a tu un peso de autobiografia vera cuando el ia encontra prima tu, e probable el ia regrete lo a multe veses plu tarda. El ia es a ves pasada un ensenior en la norde de England. Bon, on ave no person plu fasil per trasa ca un ensenior. On ave ajenterias scolal par cual on pote identifia cualcun ci ia segue acel profesa. Un pico de investiga ia mostra a me ce un scola ia fali en un situa odiable, e ce la om ci ia posese lo – la nom ia difere – ia desapare con sua sposa. La descrives ia acorda. Cuando me ia trova ce la om mancante ia es dedicada a entomolojia, la identifia ia es completa.”

“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.”

La oscuria ia clari, ma multe ia es ja ascondeda par la ombras.

The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by the shadows.

“Si esta fem es vera sua sposa, como Sra Laura Lyons pertine?” – me ia demanda.

“If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs. Laura Lyons come in?” I asked.

“Esta es un de la puntos cual tua propre rexercas ia lumina. Tua intervisa con la dama ia clari multe la situa. Me no ia sabe sur un divorsa projetada entre el e sua sposo. En acel caso, regardante Stapleton como un om nonsposida, el ia espeta sin duta deveni sua sposa.”

“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.”

“E pos sua desilude?”

“And when she is undeceived?”

“He, alora cisa nos va trova ce la dama es usosa. Ta ce nosa debe prima – per ambos de nos – es visita el doman. Esce tu no opina, Watson, ce tu es a via de tua curada tra tempo alga longa? Tua loca debe es en Cason Baskerville.”

“Why, then we may find the lady of service. It must be our first duty to see her – both of us – tomorrow. Don’t you think, Watson, that you are away from your charge rather long? Your place should be at Baskerville Hall.”

La bandas roja final ia desapare ja en la ueste e la note ia covre la stepe. Alga stelas debil ia brilia en un sielo violeta.

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.

“Un demanda ultima, Holmes.” – me ia dise en leva. “Serta on no nesesa secretia entre tu e me. Cual es la sinifia de tota? Cual Stapleton desira?”

“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?”

La vose de Holmes ia basi cuando el ia responde:

Holmes’s voice sank as he answered:

“Lo es omiside, Watson – omiside refinada, cruel, intendeda. No solisita detalias de me. Mea redes prosimi per enclui el, esata como la suas prosimi a Sir Henry, e con tua aida el es ja cuasi su mea controla. On ave sola un peril cual pote menasa nos. Lo es ce el va colpa cisa ante cuando nos va es preparada per fa tal. Pos un plu dia – masima pos du – e me va completi mea caso, ma asta alora, garda tua curada con tal atende con cual un madre amante vijila sempre sua enfante malada. Tua mision oji ia mostra sua merita, ma me pote cuasi desira ce tu no ia parti de la lado de el. Ma escuta!”

“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 today has justified itself, and yet I could almost wish that you had not left his side. Hark!”

Un xilia temable – un ruji longida de teror e angusa – ia esplode de la silentia de la stepe. Acel cria asustante ia cambia a jelo la sangue en mea venas.

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.

“O, mea dio!” – me ia esclama respirosa. “Cual lo es? Cual lo sinifia?”

“Oh, my God!” I gasped. “What is it? What does it mean?”

Holmes ia salta ja sur sua pedes, e me ia vide sua contorno oscur e atletin a la porte de la cabana, con spalas basida, con testa puxada a ante, con fas fisante sua regarda a la negria.

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.

“Xux!” – el ia xuxa. “Xux!”

“Hush!” he whispered. “Hush!”

La cria ia es forte par causa de sua intensia, ma sua sona ia radia de alga loca distante sur la plano ombrosa. Aora lo ia esplode a nosa oreas, plu prosima, plu forte, plu urjente ca a ante.

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.

“Do lo es?” – Holmes ia xuxa; e me ia sabe par la vibra de sua vose ce el, la om de fero, es secuteda asta sua alma.

“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?”

“Ala, me pensa.” Me ia indica un dirije en la oscuria.

“There, I think.” I pointed into the darkness.

“No, ala!”

“No, there!”

Denova la cria angusada ia penetra la note silente, plu forte e plu prosima ca sempre. E un sona nova ia es miscada con lo, un ronci profonda e farfuliada, musical ma menasante, levante e cadente como la murmura basa e constante de la mar.

Again the agonised 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.

“La can!” – Holmes ia esclama. “Veni, Watson, veni! Sielo vasta, ta ce nos no ariva tro tarda!”

“The hound!” cried Holmes. “Come, Watson, come! Great heavens, if we are too late!”

El ia comensa ja core rapida traversante la stepe, e me ia segue prosima el. Ma aora, de alga loca entre la tera ru direta ante nos, un xilia final e desperante ia veni, e pos acel un pum nonclar e pesosa. Nos ia para per escuta. No otra sona ia rompe la silentia pesosa de la note sin venta.

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.

Me ia vide Holmes ponente sua mano a sua fronte como un om distraeda. Sua pedes ia piafa sur la tera.

I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead like a man distracted. He stamped his feet upon the ground.

“El ia vinse nos, Watson. Nos es tro tarda.”

“He has beaten us, Watson. We are too late.”

“No, no, serta no!”

“No, no, surely not!”

“Fol me ia es en reteni mea mano. E tu, Watson, vide la resulta de abandona tua curada! Ma, par la sielo, si la plu mal ia aveni, nos va venja el!”

“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!”

Sieca nos ia core tra la negria, torpinte contra rocones, forsante nos tra arboretas spinosa, respirosa asendente colinas e fretosa desendente inclinas, sempre vadente en la dirije de do acel sonas temable ia veni. A cada alti, Holmes ia regarda zelosa sirca se, ma la ombras ia es densa sur la stepe, e no cosa ia move sur sua fas sombre.

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.

“Tu vide cualce cosa?”

“Can you see anything?”

“No cosa.”

“Nothing.”

“Ma escuta, cual es acel?”

“But, hark, what is that?”

Un jemi basa ia ateni nosa oreas. E aora lo ia reaveni a sinistra de nos! A acel lado, un cresta de rocas ia fini en un falesa presipe cual ia fasa un inclina con petras sperdeda. Sur sua surfas sierin on ia ave estendeda alga ojeto oscur e nonordinada. Cuando nos ia core en dirije a lo, la contorno nonclar ia firmi a un forma definida. Lo ia es un om prona reposante sur la tera, con la testa pliada a su a un angulo asustante, la spalas rondida e la corpo jibosa como si en curso de volta. La posa ia es tan orible ce me no ia pote en acel instante comprende ce acel jemi ia es la parti de sua alma. No xuxa, no crepita, ia asende aora de la figur oscur supra cual nos ia curvi nos. Holmes ia pone sua mano sur el e ia releva lo con un esclama de teror. La sintili de la fosfor cual el ia ensende ia brilia a sua ditos sanguosa e a la stangeta macabre cual ia largi lenta de la cranio craseda de la vitim. E lo ia brilia a un otra cosa cual ia debili e desmaia la cores en nos – la corpo de Sir Henry Baskerville!

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 realise 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!

Lo ia es nonposible ce o la un o la otra de nos oblida acel completa strana de tuid rojin – la mesma cual el ia porta a la matina prima cuando nos ia vide el en Strada Baker. Nos ia reseta de lo un sola vide clar, ante cuando la fosfor ia balbuta estinguinte, esata como la espera ia estingui en nosa almas. Holmes ia jemi, e sua fas ia rebrilia blanca tra la oscuria.

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.

“La bruta! La bruta!” – me ia esclama con manos en punios. “O, Holmes, me va pardona nunca me pos lasa el a sua mal destina.”

“The brute! The brute!” I cried with clenched hands. “Oh Holmes, I shall never forgive myself for having left him to his fate.”

“Me es plu culpable ca tu, Watson. Per ave un caso bon ronda e completa, me ia dejeta la vive de mea cliente. Lo es la colpa la plu forte cual me ia esperia en mea carera. Ma como me ta pote sabe – como me ia ta pote sabe – ce el va risca solitar sua vive sur la stepe an contra tota mea avertis?”

“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 I know – that he would risk his life alone upon the moor in the face of all my warnings?”

“Ce nos ia oia sua xilias – mea Dio, acel xilias! – e an tal no ia es capas de salva el! Do es esta can bruta cual ia forsa el a sua mori? Lo embosce cisa entre esta rocas a esta momento. E Stapleton, do es el? El va es respondosa per esta ata.”

“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.”

“Si, tal. Me va serti acel. La tio e la sobrino es omisideda – la un matada par teme a la vide mesma de un bestia sur cual el ia crede ce lo es supranatural, la otra puxada a sua fini en sua fuji nonfrenida per evade lo. Ma aora nos debe demostra la lia entre la om e la bestia. Estra par lo cual nos ia oia, nos no pote jura an la esiste de la bestia, car Sir Henry ia mori evidente par causa de la cade. Ma, par la sielo, an si el es tan rusosa, acel om va es su mea potia ante la pasa de un plu dia!”

“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!”

Nos ia sta con cores amarga a ambos lados de la corpo mutilada, inondada par esta desastre subita e nonreversable cual ia trae tota nosa laboras longa e fatigante asta un fini tan compatiable. A pos, en cuando la luna ia leva, nos ia trepa a la culmina de la rocas de cual nosa ami povre ia cade, e de la apico nos ia teni nosa regardas traversante la stepe ombrosa, partal arjento e partal nonluminada. Distante, a alga cilometres en dirije a Grimpen, un lus solitar ia brilia jala e constante. Lo ia pote veni sola de la abiteria isolida de la Stapletones. Con blasfema amarga, me ia secute mea punio a lo en regarda.

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.

“Perce nos no ta saisi el sin pausa?”

“Why should we not seize him at once?”

“Nosa caso no es completa. Acel om es cauta e rusosa a grado estrema. Lo conserna no lo cual nos sabe, ma lo cual nos pote demostra. Si nos fa an un move noncoreta, cisa la vil va evade ancora nos.”

“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.”

“Cual nos pote fa?”

“What can we do?”

“Nos va ave un abunda de taxes doman. A esta note nos pote fa mera la rituos final a nosa ami povre.”

“There will be plenty for us to do tomorrow. Tonight we can only perform the last offices to our poor friend.”

En junta, nos ia desende la inclina presipe e ia prosimi a la corpo, negra e clar contra la petras arjentin. La dolon de acel membros contorseda ia colpa me par un spasma de dole e ia nebli mea oios par larmas.

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.

“Nos debe envia per ave aida, Holmes! Nos no pote porta el longo tota la via a la Cason. Par la sielo, tu es loco?”

“We must send for help, Holmes! We cannot carry him all the way to the Hall. Good heavens, are you mad?”

El ia emete un esclama e ia curvi supra la corpo. Aora el ia dansa e rie e ia presa forte mea mano. Esce esta ia pote es mea ami sever e restrinjeda? Esta focos ia es ascondeda, vera!

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!

“Un barba! Un barba! La om ave un barba!”

“A beard! A beard! The man has a beard!”

“Un barba?”

“A beard?”

“El no es la baroneta – el es… he, el es mea visina, la prisonida!”

“It is not the baronet – it is – why, it is my neighbour, the convict!”

Con rapidia febrin nos ia turna la corpo, e acel barba gotante ia es dirijeda a supra a la luna fria clar. On ia pote ave no duta a tema de la fronte protendente, la oios afondada animalin. Lo ia es vera la mesma fas cual ia grima contra me en la lus de la candela de ultra la rocon – la fas de Selden, la criminor.

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.

Alora, en un instante, tota ia es clar a me. Me ia recorda como la baroneta ia informa me ce el ia dona sua vestes vea a Barrymore. Barrymore ia dona plu los per aida Selden en sua evade. Botas, camisa, xapeta – tota ia es de Sir Henry. La trajedia ia es ancora sufisinte negra, ma a la min esta om ia merita mori par la leges de sua pais. Me ia informa Holmes sur la state de la situa, con mea cor versante bolas de grasiosia e joia.

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.

“Donce la vestes ia causa la mori de esta compatiable.” – el ia dise. “Lo es sufisinte clar ce la can ia es stimulada par alga poseseda de Sir Henry – la bota cual ia es furada en la otel, multe probable – e tal ia trova esta om. On ave un cosa multe estracomun, an tal: como Selden, en la oscuria, ia sabe ce la can xasa el?”

“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?”

“El ia oia lo.”

“He heard him.”

“La oia de un can sur la stepe no ta puxa un om tan dur como esta prisonida a un tal ataca de teror ce el ta risca un recatura par xilia savaje per ave aida. Longo sua crias, el ia core serta tra un distantia grande pos sabe ce la animal trasa el. Como el ia sabe?”

“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?”

“Un misterio plu grande per me es perce esta can, si nos suposa ce tota nosa divinas es coreta –”

“A greater mystery to me is why this hound, presuming that all our conjectures are correct —”

“Me suposa no cosa.”

“I presume nothing.”

“Alora bon, perce esta can ia es libre en esta note. Me imajina ce lo no core sempre libre sur la stepe. Stapleton no ta libri lo, estra si el ta ave un razona per crede ce Sir Henry va es ala.”

“Well, then, why this hound should be loose tonight. 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.”

“Mea difisil es la plu intensa de la du, car me opina ce pos multe corta nos va reseta un esplica de la tua, ma cisa la mea va resta sempre un misterio. La demanda aora es: cual nos va fa con la corpo de esta compatiable misera? Nos no pote lasa lo asi a la volpes e la corvones.”

“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.”

“Me sujesta ce nos pone lo en un de la cabanas asta pote comunica con la polisia.”

“I suggest that we put it in one of the huts until we can communicate with the police.”

“Esata. Me ave no duta ce tu e me ta pote porta lo a ala. He, Watson, cual es esta? Lo es la om mesma, par tota cual es merveliosa e osante! Par no parola mostra tua suspetas – no parola, o mea projetas va cade en pesos a la tera.”

“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.”

Un figur ia es prosiminte a nos, traversante la stepe, e me ia vide la lus roja debil de un sigar. La luna ia brilia a el, e me ia pote distingui la forma bonvestida e la pasea vivosa de la naturiste. El ia para cuando el ia vide nos, ante continua prosimi.

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.

“He, Dr Watson, esta no es tu, si? Tu es la person ultima cual me ia ta espeta vide a estra sur la stepe a esta ora de la note. Ma, ai ai ai, cual es esta? Algun es ferida? No – no dise a me ce el es nosa ami Sir Henry!”

“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!”

El ia freta per pasa me e ia curvi supra la om mor. Me ia oia sua enspira subita e la sigar ia cade de sua ditos.

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.

“Ci – ci es esta?” – el ia balbuta.

“Who – who’s this?” he stammered.

“El es Selden, la om ci ia fuji de Princetown.”

“It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown.”

Stapleton ia turna un fas macabre a nos, ma par un labora suprema el ia vinse sua stona e sua delude. El ia regarda agu de Holmes a me.

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.

“Ai! Un aveni tan multe xocante! Como el ia mori?”

“Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?”

“Lo pare ce el ia rompe sua colo par cade de sur esta rocas. Mea ami e me ia pasea sur la stepe cuando nos ia oia un cria.”

“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.”

“Me ia oia un cria ance. Esta ia es lo cual ia fa ce me sorti. Me ia es ansiosa sur Sir Henry.”

“I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I was uneasy about Sir Henry.”

“Perce spesial sur Sir Henry?” – me no ia pote evita demanda.

“Why about Sir Henry in particular?” I could not help asking.

“Car me ia sujesta ce el ta visita nos. Cuando el no ia ariva, me ia es surprendeda, e natural me ia deveni alarmada sur sua securia cuando me ia oia crias sur la stepe. En pasa,” – sua oios ia dardi denova de mea fas a lo de Holmes – “esce tu ia oia cualce cosa otra ca un cria?”

“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,” – Holmes ia dise – “e tu?”

“No,” said Holmes; “did you?”

“No.”

“No.”

“Cual tu vole dise, alora?”

“What do you mean, then?”

“O, tu conose la racontas cual la campanianes nara sur un can fantasma, e tal plu. On dise ce lo es oiable a note sur la stepe. Me ia demanda a me esce on ia ave cualce indica de un tal sona a esta note.”

“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 tonight.”

“Nos ia oia no cosa de acel tipo.” – me ia dise.

“We heard nothing of the kind,” said I.

“E cual es tua teoria sur la mori de esta compatiable?”

“And what is your theory of this poor fellow’s death?”

“Me ave no duta ce el ia es dementida par ansia e esposa. El ia core de loca a loca sur la stepe en state fol, e final ia cade a tera asi e ia rompe sua colo.”

“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.”

“Acel pare la teoria la plu razonada.” – Stapleton ia dise, e el ia fa un suspira cual me ia interprete como indicante sua lejeri. “Como tu opina a la tema, Sr Sherlock Holmes?”

“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?”

Mea ami ia inclina per saluta.

My friend bowed his compliments.

“Tu es capas de identifia rapida.” – el ia dise.

“You are quick at identification,” said he.

“Nos espeta ja tu en esta partes pos la ariva de Dr Watson. Tu ia veni a tempo per vide un trajedia.”

“We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watson came down. You are in time to see a tragedy.”

“Si, vera. Me ave no duta ce la esplica de mea ami va coere con la fatos. Me va porta un recorda nonplasente a London con me doman.”

“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 tomorrow.”

“O, tu va revade doman?”

“Oh, you return tomorrow?”

“Esta es mea intende.”

“That is my intention.”

“Me espera ce tua visita ia lansa alga lus sur acel avenis cual ia confonde nos?”

“I hope your visit has cast some light upon those occurrences which have puzzled us?”

Holmes ia leva sua spalas.

Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

“On no pote sempre ave la susede cual on espera. Un investigor nesesa fatos e no lejendas o rumores. Esta no ia es un caso sasiante.”

“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.”

Mea ami ia parla en sua manera la plu franca e nonconsernada. Stapleton ia regarda ancora forte el. A pos, el ia turna a me.

My friend spoke in his frankest and most unconcerned manner. Stapleton still looked hard at him. Then he turned to me.

“Me ta sujesta porta esta compatiable a mea casa, ma lo ta asusta tan mea sore ce me no senti justida en fa tal. Me pensa ce si nos va covre sua fas con alga cosa, el va es secur asta la matina.”

“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.”

E tal lo ia es organizada. Resistente la ofre de ospitia par Stapleton, Holmes e me ia parti per Cason Baskerville, lasante la naturiste a revade solitar. Regardante a retro, nos ia vide la figur lenta movente a via longo la stepe larga, e pos el acel sola manxa negra sur la inclina arjentin cual ia mostra do la om reposa ci ia ateni tan orible sua fini.

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.

“Ultima, nos es prosima lutante.” – Holmes ia dise en cuando nos ia pasea en junta per traversa la stepe. “Acel om es tan osante! Como el ia controla se a fas de lo cual ia es sin duta un xoca paralisente cuando el ia trova ce un om nonintendeda ia deveni un vitim de sua scema… Me ia dise a tu en London, Watson, e me dise denova a tu aora, ce nos ia ave nunca un oposor ci merita plu nosa sabre.”

“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.”

“Me regrete ce el ia vide tu.”

“I am sorry that he has seen you.”

“Como ance me a la comensa. Ma me no ia pote evita lo.”

“And so was I at first. But there was no getting out of it.”

“Como, en tua opina, lo va afeta sua intendes ce el sabe aora ce tu es asi?”

“What effect do you think it will have upon his plans now that he knows you are here?”

“Cisa lo va causa ce el deveni plu cauta, o cisa lo va forsa el direta a metodos desperante. Como la plu criminores astuta, cisa el fida tro sua propre astutia e imajina ce el ia engana completa nos.”

“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.”

“Perce nos no ta aresta el sin pausa?”

“Why should we not arrest him at once?”

“Mea cara Watson, tu ia nase per es un om de ativia. Tua instinto es sempre la fa de alga ata enerjiosa. Ma suposante, par argumenta, ce nos ia ta aresta el a esta note, como de mundo nos ta es en state plu bon a pos? Nos ta pote demostra no cosa contra el. Esta es la rusosia diablin de la situa! Si el ta ata tra un ajente umana, nos ta pote colie alga atestas, ma si nos ta tira esta can grande a la lus de dia, lo no ta aida nos a pone un corda sirca la colo de sua mestre.”

“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 tonight, 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.”

“Ma nos ave serta un caso.”

“Surely we have a case.”

“An no un ombra de lo – sola suposas e divinas. Un corte ta burla nos a via si nos ta veni con un tal raconta e tal atestas.”

“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.”

“Nos ave la mori de Sir Charles.”

“There is Sir Charles’s death.”

“Trovada mor sin cualce feri. Tu e me sabe ce el ia mori tota asustada, e nos sabe ance lo cual ia asusta el, ma como nos va reali ce des-du juriores fidable sabe lo? Cual sinias esiste de un can? Do es la impresas de sua dentes? Natural, nos sabe ce un can no morde un corpo mor e ce Sir Charles ia es mor an ante cuando la bestia ia ateni el. Ma nos debe demostra tota de esta, e nos no es bon posada per fa lo.”

“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.”

“Alora bon, e esta note?”

“Well, then, tonight?”

“Nos no es multe plu bon posada a esta note. Denova, on ia ave no lia direta entre la can e la mori de la om. Nos ia vide nunca la can. Nos ia oia lo, ma nos no ta pote demostra ce lo ia core longo la trasa de esta om. Motivas manca completa. No, mea cara bonom, nos debe reconsilia nos a la fato ce nos ave presente no caso, e ce nos va benefica de aseta cualce risca per asembla un.”

“We are not much better off tonight. 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.”

“E como tu proposa fa esta?”

“And how do you propose to do so?”

“Me ave un espera grande sur lo cual cisa Sra Laura Lyons va fa per nos cuando la state de la situa va es clarida a el. E me ave ance mea propre scema. Ta ce la malia de doman sufisi; ma me espera ce, ante la pasa de la dia, me va ave a fini la vantaje.”

“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 tomorrow is the evil thereof; but I hope before the day is past to have the upper hand at last.”

Me ia pote estrae no plu cosa de el, e el ia pasea, perdeda en pensa, asta la porton de Baskerville.

I could draw nothing further from him, and he walked, lost in thought, as far as the Baskerville gates.

“Tu va entra?”

“Are you coming up?”

“Si; me vide no razona per asconde plu. Ma un plu parola final, Watson. Dise no cosa sur la can a Sir Henry. Ta ce el opina ce la mori de Selden ia es tal como Stapleton vole ce nos crede. El va ave coraje plu forte per la mal esperia tra cual el va debe pasa doman, cuando el es obligada, si me recorda coreta tua reporta, a come a sera con esta persones.”

“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 tomorrow, when he is engaged, if I remember your report aright, to dine with these people.”

“Como ance me.”

“And so am I.”

“Donce tu va debe escusa tu e el va debe vade solitar. Esta va es fasil organizada. E aora, si nos es tro tarda per la come de sera, me crede ce ambos de nos desira nosa comes de note.”

“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.”

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