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Capitol 7: La Stapletones de Casa Merripit

Chapter 7. The Stapletons of Merripit House

La belia fresca de la matina seguente ia susede alga sutrae de nosa mentes la impresa sombre e gris cual ia es lasada en ambos de nos par nosa esperia prima de Cason Baskerville. Cuando Sir Henry e me ia senta a come de matina, la lus de sol ia entra versante entre la maineles de la fenetras alta, lansante manxas acuin de color de la scermos eraldial cual ia covre los. La paneles oscur ia brilia como bronze en la raios oro, e difisil ia es la comprende ce esta es vera la sala cual ia colpa un tal sombria a nosa spiritos en la sera presedente.

The fresh beauty of the following morning did something to efface from our minds the grim and grey impression which had been left upon both of us by our first experience of Baskerville Hall. As Sir Henry and I sat at breakfast the sunlight flooded in through the high mullioned windows, throwing watery patches of colour from the coats of arms which covered them. The dark panelling glowed like bronze in the golden rays, and it was hard to realise that this was indeed the chamber which had struck such a gloom into our souls upon the evening before.

“Me suposa ce nos debe culpa nos mesma e no la casa!” – la baroneta ia dise. “Nos ia es fatigada par nosa viaja e frida par nosa vade, donce nos ia regarda gris la loca. Aora nos es fresca e sana, donce tota es denova plasente.”

“I guess it is ourselves and not the house that we have to blame!” said the baronet. “We were tired with our journey and chilled by our drive, so we took a grey view of the place. Now we are fresh and well, so it is all cheerful once more.”

“E an tal, lo no ia es intera un caso de imajina.” – me ia responde. “Esce, per esemplo, lo ia aveni ce tu ia oia algun, me crede un fem, sanglotante en la note?”

“And yet it was not entirely a question of imagination,” I answered. “Did you, for example, happen to hear someone, a woman I think, sobbing in the night?”

“Esta es strana, car cuando me ia es partal dorminte, me ia pare oia alga tal cosa. Me ia espeta tra un bon tempo, ma lo no ia reaveni, donce me ia conclui ce lo ia es tota un sonia.”

“That is curious, for I did when I was half asleep fancy that I heard something of the sort. I waited quite a time, but there was no more of it, so I concluded that it was all a dream.”

“Me ia oia clar lo, e me es serta ce lo ia es vera la sanglota de un fem.”

“I heard it distinctly, and I am sure that it was really the sob of a woman.”

“Nos debe demanda sur esta sin retarda.”

“We must ask about this right away.”

El ia sona la campana e ia demanda a Barrymore esce el pote esplica nosa esperia. Lo ia pare a me ce la fas pal de la servor xef ia deveni ancora pico plu pal cuando el ia escuta la demanda de sua mestre.

He rang the bell and asked Barrymore whether he could account for our experience. It seemed to me that the pallid features of the butler turned a shade paler still as he listened to his master’s question.

“On ave sola du femes en la casa, Sir Henry.” – el ia responde. “La un es la servor de cosina, ci dormi en la otra ala. La otra es mea sposa, e me pote afirma ce la sona no ia pote veni de el.”

“There are only two women in the house, Sir Henry,” he answered. “One is the scullery-maid, who sleeps in the other wing. The other is my wife, and I can answer for it that the sound could not have come from her.”

E an tal, el ia menti en dise lo, car acaso pos la come de matina me ia encontra Sra Barrymore en la coredor longa con la sol plen a sua fas. El ia es un fem grande e nonemosiosa con fas pesosa e un espresa de boca sever fisada. Ma sua oios tradosa ia es roja e ia regardeta me de entre palpebras inflada. Donce el ia es la person ci ia plora en la note, e si el ia fa tal, sua sposo debe sabe lo. Ma el ia eleje la risca evidente de es descovreda en declara ce lo no es tal. Perce el ia fa esta? E perce el ia plora tan amarga? Ja sirca esta om bela de fas pel e barba negra, un aira de misterio e sombria ia es forminte. El ia es la prima ci ia descovre la corpo de Sir Charles, e nos ia ave sola sua dise sur tota la situa cual ia gida a la mori de la om vea. Esce lo ia es posible ce, an con tota, Barrymore ia es el ci nos ia vide en la caro en Strada Regent? Serta la barba ia pote es la mesma. La taxiste ia descrive un om alga plu corta, ma un tal impresa ia pote era fasil. Como me ta pote deside la punto per sempre? Evidente la ata prima ia debe es consulta la xef de posteria de Grimpen per trova esce la telegram de proba ia es vera poneda en la propre manos de Barrymore. Sin depende de la responde, me ta ave a la min alga cosa per reporta a Sherlock Holmes.

And yet he lied as he said it, for it chanced that after breakfast I met Mrs. Barrymore in the long corridor with the sun full upon her face. She was a large, impassive, heavy-featured woman with a stern set expression of mouth. But her telltale eyes were red and glanced at me from between swollen lids. It was she, then, who wept in the night, and if she did so her husband must know it. Yet he had taken the obvious risk of discovery in declaring that it was not so. Why had he done this? And why did she weep so bitterly? Already round this pale-faced, handsome, black-bearded man there was gathering an atmosphere of mystery and of gloom. It was he who had been the first to discover the body of Sir Charles, and we had only his word for all the circumstances which led up to the old man’s death. Was it possible that it was Barrymore, after all, whom we had seen in the cab in Regent Street? The beard might well have been the same. The cabman had described a somewhat shorter man, but such an impression might easily have been erroneous. How could I settle the point forever? Obviously the first thing to do was to see the Grimpen postmaster and find whether the test telegram had really been placed in Barrymore’s own hands. Be the answer what it might, I should at least have something to report to Sherlock Holmes.

Sir Henry ia debe esamina multe paperes pos la come de matina, tal ce la tempo ia es vantajosa per mea escurso. Lo ia es un pasea plasente de ses cilometres longo la borda de la stepe, ultima gidante me a un vileta peti e gris en cual du construidas plu grande, cual ia es revelada como la otel e la casa de Dr Mortimer, ia sta alta supra la otras. La xef de posteria, ci ia es ance la comedor de la vileta, ia ave un recorda clar de la telegram.

Sir Henry had numerous papers to examine after breakfast, so that the time was propitious for my excursion. It was a pleasant walk of four miles along the edge of the moor, leading me at last to a small grey hamlet, in which two larger buildings, which proved to be the inn and the house of Dr. Mortimer, stood high above the rest. The postmaster, who was also the village grocer, had a clear recollection of the telegram.

“Serta, senior,” – el ia dise – “me ia fa ce on trae la telegram a Sr Barrymore, esata como dirijeda.”

“Certainly, sir,” said he, “I had the telegram delivered to Mr. Barrymore exactly as directed.”

“Ci ia trae lo?”

“Who delivered it?”

“Mea fio asi. James, tu ia trae acel telegram a Sr Barrymore a la Cason en la semana pasada, no?”

“My boy here. James, you delivered that telegram to Mr. Barrymore at the Hall last week, did you not?”

“Si, padre, me ia trae lo.”

“Yes, father, I delivered it.”

“A sua propre manos?” – me ia demanda.

“Into his own hands?” I asked.

“Bon, el ia es a supra en la suteto a acel tempo, donce me no ia pone lo a sua propre manos, ma me ia dona lo a la manos de Sra Barrymore, e el ia promete trae lo sin pausa.”

“Well, he was up in the loft at the time, so that I could not put it into his own hands, but I gave it into Mrs. Barrymore’s hands, and she promised to deliver it at once.”

“Esce tu ia vide Sr Barrymore?”

“Did you see Mr. Barrymore?”

“No, senior; como me ia dise, el ia es en la suteto.”

“No, sir; I tell you he was in the loft.”

“Si tu no ia vide el, como tu sabe ce el ia es en la suteto?”

“If you didn’t see him, how do you know he was in the loft?”

“Bon, serta sua propre sposa debe sabe do el es.” – la xef de posteria ia dise iritada. “Esce el no ia reseta la telegram? Si un era ia aveni, Sr Barrymore mem debe cexa.”

“Well, surely his own wife ought to know where he is,” said the postmaster testily. “Didn’t he get the telegram? If there is any mistake it is for Mr. Barrymore himself to complain.”

Continua plu la demandas ia pare futil, ma lo ia es clar ce, an con la rus par Holmes, nos ave no demostra ce Barrymore no ia es en London tra tota la tempo. Suposa ce lo ia es tal – suposa ce la mesma om ia es la ultima ci ia vide Sir Charles vivente, e la prima ci ia segue la eritor nova cuando el ia reveni a England. Cual resulta, alora? Esce el ia es la ajente de otras, o esce el ia ave alga propre projeta malvolente? Cual razona el ia pote ave per persegue la familia Baskerville? Me ia pensa a la averti strana sisorida de la article xef de la Times. Esce esta ia es fada par el o esce lo ia pote es fada par algun con intende forte de oposa sua scemas? La sola motiva consetable ia es lo cual ia es sujestada par Sir Henry, ce si la familia ta pote es asustada a via, un casa comfortosa e permanente ta es securida per la Barrymores. Ma serta un tal esplica como esta ta es intera nonsufisinte per esplica la scemi profonda e sutil cual ia pare texe un rede nonvidable sirca la baroneta joven. Holmes mem ia dise ce no caso plu complicada ia veni a el en tota la serie longa de sua investigas dramosa. Me ia prea, en cuando me ia repasea longo la rua gris e solitar, ce pos corta mea ami va es librida de sua preocupas e va pote ariva per prende esta pesa grande de encarga a via de mea spalas.

It seemed hopeless to pursue the inquiry any farther, but it was clear that in spite of Holmes’s ruse we had no proof that Barrymore had not been in London all the time. Suppose that it were so – suppose that the same man had been the last who had seen Sir Charles alive, and the first to dog the new heir when he returned to England. What then? Was he the agent of others or had he some sinister design of his own? What interest could he have in persecuting the Baskerville family? I thought of the strange warning clipped out of the leading article of the Times. Was that his work or was it possibly the doing of someone who was bent upon counteracting his schemes? The only conceivable motive was that which had been suggested by Sir Henry, that if the family could be scared away a comfortable and permanent home would be secured for the Barrymores. But surely such an explanation as that would be quite inadequate to account for the deep and subtle scheming which seemed to be weaving an invisible net round the young baronet. Holmes himself had said that no more complex case had come to him in all the long series of his sensational investigations. I prayed, as I walked back along the grey, lonely road, that my friend might soon be freed from his preoccupations and able to come down to take this heavy burden of responsibility from my shoulders.

Subita mea pensas ia es interompeda par la sona de pedes corente pos me e par un vose cual ia clama me par nom. Me ia turna, espetante vide Dr Mortimer, ma a mea surprende, el ci segue me ia es un nonconoseda. El ia es un om peti e grasil, de fas rasada e formal, con capeles jalin brun e mandibulas magra, de eda entre tredes e cuatrodes anios, vestida en un veston gris e portante un capel de palia. Un caxa de stanio per samples botanical ia pende de sua spala, e el ia ave un rede verde per papilios en un de sua manos.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feet behind me and by a voice which called me by name. I turned, expecting to see Dr. Mortimer, but to my surprise it was a stranger who was pursuing me. He was a small, slim, clean-shaven, prim-faced man, flaxen-haired and lean-jawed, between thirty and forty years of age, dressed in a grey suit and wearing a straw hat. A tin box for botanical specimens hung over his shoulder and he carried a green butterfly-net in one of his hands.

“Tu, me es serta, va pardona mea desrespeta, Dr Watson.” – el ia dise, veninte con respira rapida a do me ia sta. “Asi sur la stepe nos es persones familin e no espeta presentas formal. Cisa tu ia oia mea nom diseda par nosa ami mutua, Mortimer. Me es Stapleton, de Casa Merripit.”

“You will, I am sure, excuse my presumption, Dr. Watson,” said he as he came panting up to where I stood. “Here on the moor we are homely folk and do not wait for formal introductions. You may possibly have heard my name from our mutual friend, Mortimer. I am Stapleton, of Merripit House.”

“Tua rede e caxa ia ta espresa egal lo a me,” – me ia dise – “car me ia sabe ce Sr Stapleton es un naturiste. Ma como tu ia reconose me?”

“Your net and box would have told me as much,” said I, “for I knew that Mr. Stapleton was a naturalist. But how did you know me?”

“Me ia visita Mortimer, e el ia indica tu a me tra la fenetra de sua consulteria cuando tu ia pasa. Car nosa cursos ave la mesma dirije, me ia deside ateni tu e presenta me. Me espera ce Sir Henry es en bon sania pos sua viaja?”

“I have been calling on Mortimer, and he pointed you out to me from the window of his surgery as you passed. As our road lay the same way I thought that I would overtake you and introduce myself. I trust that Sir Henry is none the worse for his journey?”

“El es multe sana, grasias.”

“He is very well, thank you.”

“Tota de nos ia teme alga ce, pos la mori triste de Sir Charles, la baroneta nova va refusa cisa abita asi. Lo esije multe de un om rica ce el ta viaja per tombi se en un loca como esta, ma me no nesesa informa tu ce lo ave un sinifia vera enorme a la campania. Sir Henry ave, me suposa, no temes superstisiosa en la situa?”

“We were all rather afraid that after the sad death of Sir Charles the new baronet might refuse to live here. It is asking much of a wealthy man to come down and bury himself in a place of this kind, but I need not tell you that it means a very great deal to the countryside. Sir Henry has, I suppose, no superstitious fears in the matter?”

“Me no pensa ce acel es probable.”

“I do not think that it is likely.”

“Natural, tu conose la lejenda de la can demonin cual segue la familia?”

“Of course you know the legend of the fiend dog which haunts the family?”

“Me ia oia lo.”

“I have heard it.”

“Lo es stonante ce la campanianes en esta rejion es tan credosa! Un bon cuantia de los es preparada per jura ce los ia vide un tal bestia sur la stepe.” El ia parla con surie, ma lo ia pare ce me leje en sua oios ce el trata plu seria la tema. “La raconta ia catura grande la imajina de Sir Charles, e me ave no duta ce lo ia gida a sua fini trajedin.”

“It is extraordinary how credulous the peasants are about here! Any number of them are ready to swear that they have seen such a creature upon the moor.” He spoke with a smile, but I seemed to read in his eyes that he took the matter more seriously. “The story took a great hold upon the imagination of Sir Charles, and I have no doubt that it led to his tragic end.”

“Ma como?”

“But how?”

“Sua nervos ia es tan tisada ce la apare de cualce can ia ta fa cisa un efeto matante a sua cor malada. Me opina ce el ia vide vera alga tal cosa en acel note final en la rueta de taxos. Me ia teme ce alga desastre va aveni cisa, car me ia gusta multe la om vea, e me ia sabe ce sua cor es debil.”

“His nerves were so worked up that the appearance of any dog might have had a fatal effect upon his diseased heart. I fancy that he really did see something of the kind upon that last night in the yew alley. I feared that some disaster might occur, for I was very fond of the old man, and I knew that his heart was weak.”

“Como tu ia sabe esta?”

“How did you know that?”

“Mea ami Mortimer ia informa me.”

“My friend Mortimer told me.”

“Tu pensa, alora, ce alga can ia xasa Sir Charles, e ce el ia mori par teme en resulta?”

“You think, then, that some dog pursued Sir Charles, and that he died of fright in consequence?”

“Tu ave cualce esplica plu bon?”

“Have you any better explanation?”

“Me no ia veni a un conclui.”

“I have not come to any conclusion.”

“E Sherlock Holmes?”

“Has Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

La parolas ia aturdi mea respira per un instante, ma un regardeta a la fas pasosa e oios constante de mea acompanior ia mostra ce no surprende ia es intendeda.

The words took away my breath for an instant but a glance at the placid face and steadfast eyes of my companion showed that no surprise was intended.

“Lo ta es futil si nos ta finje ce nos no conose tu, Dr Watson,” – el ia dise. “La reportas de tua detetor ia ateni nos asi, e tu no ia pote loda el sin ce tu mesma deveni conoseda. Cuando Mortimer ia dise a me tua nom, el no ia pote nega tua identia. Si tu es asi, alora lo segue ce Sr Sherlock Holmes interesa se a la tema, e me es natural curiosa per sabe cual opina el ave cisa.

“It is useless for us to pretend that we do not know you, Dr. Watson,” said he. “The records of your detective have reached us here, and you could not celebrate him without being known yourself. When Mortimer told me your name he could not deny your identity. If you are here, then it follows that Mr. Sherlock Holmes is interesting himself in the matter, and I am naturally curious to know what view he may take.”

“Me regrete ce me no pote responde a acel demanda.”

“I am afraid that I cannot answer that question.”

“Ta ce me demanda esce el va onora nos par un propre visita?”

“May I ask if he is going to honour us with a visit himself?”

“El no pote parti de London a presente. El ave otra casos cual ocupa sua atende.”

“He cannot leave town at present. He has other cases which engage his attention.”

“Tan triste! El ta lansa cisa alga lus a lo cual es tan oscur per nos. Ma en pertine a tua propre esploras, si en cualce modo posible me pote servi tu, me espera ce tu va comanda me. Si me ta ave cualce indica de la natur de tua suspetas o como tu proposa investiga la caso, cisa an aora me ta dona a tu alga aida o consela.”

“What a pity! He might throw some light on that which is so dark to us. But as to your own researches, if there is any possible way in which I can be of service to you I trust that you will command me. If I had any indication of the nature of your suspicions or how you propose to investigate the case, I might perhaps even now give you some aid or advice.”

“Me afirma a tu ce me es simple asi per visita mea ami, Sir Henry, e ce me nesesa no aida de cualce spesie.”

“I assure you that I am simply here upon a visit to my friend, Sir Henry, and that I need no help of any kind.”

“Eselente!” – Stapleton ia dise. “Tu ata perfeta coreta con cautia e discretia. Me es justa reproxada per lo cual ia es, me senti, un intrui nonsuportable, e me promete a tu ce me no va parla denova a la tema.”

“Excellent!” said Stapleton. “You are perfectly right to be wary and discreet. I am justly reproved for what I feel was an unjustifiable intrusion, and I promise you that I will not mention the matter again.”

Nos ia veni a un loca do un vieta streta e erbosa ia separa de la rua e ia serpe en parti traversante la stepe. A destra on ia ave un colina presipe con rocones sperdeda, cual en dias pasada ia es taliada a un escaveria de granito. La fas dirijeda a nos ia formi un falesa oscur, con filises e rubos cresente en sua nixes. De pos un alta distante, un plumon de fuma ia flota.

We had come to a point where a narrow grassy path struck off from the road and wound away across the moor. A steep, boulder-sprinkled hill lay upon the right which had in bygone days been cut into a granite quarry. The face which was turned towards us formed a dark cliff, with ferns and brambles growing in its niches. From over a distant rise there floated a grey plume of smoke.

“Un pasea moderada longo esta vieta de stepe gida nos a Casa Merripit.” – el ia dise. “Cisa tu va sede un ora afin me ta ave la plaser de presenta tu a mea sore.”

“A moderate walk along this moor-path brings us to Merripit House,” said he. “Perhaps you will spare an hour that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister.”

Mea pensa prima ia es ce me debe es a lado de Sir Henry. Ma a pos me ia recorda la cumula de paperes e faturas par cual sua table de studio ia es covreda. Lo ia es serta ce me no pote aida con aceles. E Holmes ia dise franca ce me debe studia la visinas sur la stepe. Me ia aseta la invita de Stapleton, e nos ia turna en junta a la vieta.

My first thought was that I should be by Sir Henry’s side. But then I remembered the pile of papers and bills with which his study table was littered. It was certain that I could not help with those. And Holmes had expressly said that I should study the neighbours upon the moor. I accepted Stapleton’s invitation, and we turned together down the path.

“Un loca merveliosa es la stepe.” – el ia dise, regardante sirca se la colinas ondante, longa e verde con valetas, con crestas sierin de granito spumante a supra en surjes fantasin. “On es nunca noiada par la stepe. On no ta pote imajina la secretas merveliosa cual lo conteni. Lo es tan vasta, e tan esposada, e tan misteriosa.”

“It is a wonderful place, the moor,” said he, looking round over the undulating downs, long green rollers, with crests of jagged granite foaming up into fantastic surges. “You never tire of the moor. You cannot think the wonderful secrets which it contains. It is so vast, and so barren, and so mysterious.”

“Alora, tu conose bon lo?”

“You know it well, then?”

“Me es asi tra sola du anios. La abitores ta nomi me un arivor nova. Nos ia veni corta pos cuando Sir Charles ia comensa sua abita. Ma mea preferes ia gida me a esplora cada parte de la tereno ambiente, e me ta opina ce poca persones ave un conose plu bon de lo ca me.”

“I have only been here two years. The residents would call me a newcomer. We came shortly after Sir Charles settled. But my tastes led me to explore every part of the country round, and I should think that there are few men who know it better than I do.”

“Esce conose lo es difisil?”

“Is it hard to know?”

“Multe difisil. Vide, per esemplo, esta plano grande a la norde asi con colinas strana cual eruta de lo. Esce tu oserva cualce cosa notable en relata?”

“Very hard. You see, for example, this great plain to the north here with the queer hills breaking out of it. Do you observe anything remarkable about that?”

“Lo ta es un loca noncomun bon per galopa.”

“It would be a rare place for a gallop.”

“On ta pensa natural esta, e la pensa ia prende la vive de alga persones ante aora. Tu nota acel puntos forte verde cual covre lo en sperde densa?”

“You would naturally think so and the thought has cost several their lives before now. You notice those bright green spots scattered thickly over it?”

“Si, los pare plu fertil ca la otra partes.”

“Yes, they seem more fertile than the rest.”

Stapleton ia rie.

Stapleton laughed.

“Acel es la Pantan Grande de Grimpen.” – el ia dise. “Un mal paso ala sinifia moria per persones e bestias. Mera ier, me ia vide un de la cavalos peti de stepe vagante a en lo. El ia sorti nunca. Me ia vide sua testa estendente de acel buco de fango tra tempo alga longa, ma ultima lo ia suca el a su. An en saisones seca, traversa lo es perilosa, ma pos esta pluves de autono lo es un loca orible. E an tal, me pote trova la via a sua sentro mesma e reveni vivente. Par santia, on ave ala un plu de acel cavalos misera!”

“That is the great Grimpen Mire,” said he. “A false step yonder means death to man or beast. Only yesterday I saw one of the moor ponies wander into it. He never came out. I saw his head for quite a long time craning out of the bog-hole, but it sucked him down at last. Even in dry seasons it is a danger to cross it, but after these autumn rains it is an awful place. And yet I can find my way to the very heart of it and return alive. By George, there is another of those miserable ponies!”

Un cosa brun ia es rolante e turnante entre la siperos verde. A pos, un colo longa, angusada e contorsente ia xuta a supra e un cria asustante ia resona tra la stepe. Lo ia fri me con teror, ma la nervos de mea acompanior ia pare es plu forte ca la meas.

Something brown was rolling and tossing among the green sedges. Then a long, agonised, writhing neck shot upward and a dreadful cry echoed over the moor. It turned me cold with horror, but my companion’s nerves seemed to be stronger than mine.

“Lo ia desapare!” – el ia dise. “La pantan ia catura el. Du en du dias, e multe plu, cisa, car los vade abitual ala en la clima seca e sabe nunca la difere asta cuando la pantan ave los en sua saisi. Un mal loca es acel, la Pantan Grande de Grimpen.”

“It’s gone!” said he. “The mire has him. Two in two days, and many more, perhaps, for they get in the way of going there in the dry weather and never know the difference until the mire has them in its clutches. It’s a bad place, the great Grimpen Mire.”

“E tu dise ce tu sabe penetra lo?”

“And you say you can penetrate it?”

“Si, on ave un o du vietas cual un om multe ativa pote usa. Me ia descovre los.”

“Yes, there are one or two paths which a very active man can take. I have found them out.”

“Ma perce tu ta desira vade a un loca tan orible?”

“But why should you wish to go into so horrible a place?”

“Bon, tu vide la colinas a ultra? Los es vera isolas separada a tota lados par la pantan nontraversable, cual ia rampe per ensirca los en la curso de anios. Acel es do on ave la plantas rara e la papilios, si on es sufisinte astuta per ateni los.”

“Well, you see the hills beyond? They are really islands cut off on all sides by the impassable mire, which has crawled round them in the course of years. That is where the rare plants and the butterflies are, if you have the wit to reach them.”

“Me va proba la risca a alga dia.”

“I shall try my luck some day.”

El ia regarda me con fas surprendeda.

He looked at me with a surprised face.

“Par Dio, espulsa un tal idea de tua mente.” – el ia dise. “Me ta es culpable de tua sangue. Me serti a tu ce tu ta ave an no la posible la plu pico de reveni vivente. Lo es sola par recorda alga puntos complicada de orienta ce me pote fa lo.”

“For God’s sake put such an idea out of your mind,” said he. “Your blood would be upon my head. I assure you that there would not be the least chance of your coming back alive. It is only by remembering certain complex landmarks that I am able to do it.”

“Alo!” – me ia esclama. “Cual es acel?”

“Halloa!” I cried. “What is that?”

Un jemi longa e basa, nondescrivable triste, ia pasa tra la stepe. Lo ia pleni tota la aira, e an tal on no ia pote dise de do lo veni. De un murmura nonclar, lo ia crese a un ruji profonda, ante diminui denova a un murmura melancolica palpitante. Stapleton ia regarda me con espresa strana en sua fas.

A long, low moan, indescribably sad, swept over the moor. It filled the whole air, and yet it was impossible to say whence it came. From a dull murmur it swelled into a deep roar, and then sank back into a melancholy, throbbing murmur once again. Stapleton looked at me with a curious expression in his face.

“Un loca bizara, la stepe!” – el ia dise.

“Queer place, the moor!” said he.

“Ma lo es cual?”

“But what is it?”

“La campanianes dise ce lo es la Can de la Baskervilles criante a sua preda. Me ia oia lo a un o du veses pasada, ma nunca tan multe forte.”

“The peasants say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles calling for its prey. I’ve heard it once or twice before, but never quite so loud.”

Me ia regarda a sirca, con un jela de teme en mea cor, a la plano enorme estendente, manxada par la rejiones verde de juncos. No cosa ia move sur la tereno vasta estra un duple de corvones, cual ia cuaci forte de un roca alta pos nos.

I looked round, with a chill of fear in my heart, at the huge swelling plain, mottled with the green patches of rushes. Nothing stirred over the vast expanse save a pair of ravens, which croaked loudly from a tor behind us.

“Tu es un om educada. Tu no crede tal babelas como acel?” – me ia dise. “Cual, en tua opina, es la causa de un sona tan strana?”

“You are an educated man. You don’t believe such nonsense as that?” said I. “What do you think is the cause of so strange a sound?”

“Pantanes emete ruidos strana a veses. Un caso de fango afondante, o acua levante, o simil.”

“Bogs make queer noises sometimes. It’s the mud settling, or the water rising, or something.”

“No, no, acel ia es un vose vivente.”

“No, no, that was a living voice.”

“Bon, cisa tal. Tu ia oia ja la sona profonda de un botor?”

“Well, perhaps it was. Did you ever hear a bittern booming?”

“No, nunca.”

“No, I never did.”

“Lo es un avia multe rara – cuasi estinguida – en England aora, ma tota cosas es posible sur la stepe. Si, me no ta es stonada par aprende ce lo cual nos ia oia es la vose de la ultima de la botores.”

“It’s a very rare bird – practically extinct – in England now, but all things are possible upon the moor. Yes, I should not be surprised to learn that what we have heard is the cry of the last of the bitterns.”

“Lo es la cosa la plu strana e bizara cual me ia oia en tota mea vive.”

“It’s the weirdest, strangest thing that ever I heard in my life.”

“Si, esta es jeneral un loca alga misteriosa. Regarda la lado de la colina ala. Como tu interprete aceles?”

“Yes, it’s rather an uncanny place altogether. Look at the hillside yonder. What do you make of those?”

La intera de la inclinada presipe ia es covreda par anelos sirculo de petra gris, a la min dudes.

The whole steep slope was covered with grey circular rings of stone, a score of them at least.

“Los es cual? Ensircas per oveas?”

“What are they? Sheep-pens?”

“No, los es la abiterias de nosa asendentes brava. Umanas preistorial ia abita densa sur la stepe, e car nun notable ia abita ala a pos, nos trova tota sua posadas peti, esata como lasada. Estas es sua uiguames con la tetos sutraeda. On pote vide an sua ximinerias e sua letos si on es sufisinte curiosa per entra.

“No, they are the homes of our worthy ancestors. Prehistoric man lived thickly on the moor, and as no one in particular has lived there since, we find all his little arrangements exactly as he left them. These are his wigwams with the roofs off. You can even see his hearth and his couch if you have the curiosity to go inside.

“Ma lo es un vila alga grande. Cuando lo ia es abitada?”

“But it is quite a town. When was it inhabited?”

“Umanas neolitica – sin data.”

“Neolithic man – no date.”

“Cual los ia fa?”

“What did he do?”

“Los ia dona pasto a sua boves sur esta inclinadas, e los ia aprende escava per stanio cuando la spada de bronze ia comensa suprapasa la axa de petra. Regarda la foso grande en la colina fasante. Acel es sua marca. Si, tu va trova alga puntos multe unica en pertine a la stepe, Dr Watson. O, pardona me per un momento! Acel es serta un siclopido.”

“He grazed his cattle on these slopes, and he learned to dig for tin when the bronze sword began to supersede the stone axe. Look at the great trench in the opposite hill. That is his mark. Yes, you will find some very singular points about the moor, Dr. Watson. Oh, excuse me an instant! It is surely Cyclopides.”

Un mosca o papilio peti ia voleta traversante nosa curso, e instante Stapleton ia es fretante con enerjia e rapidia estracomun per xasa lo. Ansiante me, la animal ia vola en dirije direta a la pantan grande, e mea conoseda ia pausa nunca per un momento, bondinte de mexa a mexa pos lo, brandinte sua rede verde en la aira. Par sua vestes gris e progresa arancante, zigzagante, nonpredisable, el mesma no ia pare nonsimil a alga papilio jigante. Me ia sta regardante sua xasa con un misca de amira a sua ativia estracomun e teme ce el va fa un mal paso en la pantan tradosa, cuando me ia oia la sona de pasos e, turnante, ia trova un fem prosima a me sur la vieta. El ia veni de la dirije en cual la plumon de fuma ia indica la loca de Casa Merripit, ma la basi de la stepe ia asconde el asta cuando el ia es sufisinte prosima.

A small fly or moth had fluttered across our path, and in an instant Stapleton was rushing with extraordinary energy and speed in pursuit of it. To my dismay the creature flew straight for the great mire, and my acquaintance never paused for an instant, bounding from tuft to tuft behind it, his green net waving in the air. His grey clothes and jerky, zigzag, irregular progress made him not unlike some huge moth himself. I was standing watching his pursuit with a mixture of admiration for his extraordinary activity and fear lest he should lose his footing in the treacherous mire, when I heard the sound of steps and, turning round, found a woman near me upon the path. She had come from the direction in which the plume of smoke indicated the position of Merripit House, but the dip of the moor had hid her until she was quite close.

Me no ia pote duta ce esta es la Senioreta Stapleton sur ci on ia informa me, car femes de cualce spesie ia es suposable poca sur la stepe, e me ia recorda ce me ia oia algun descrivente el como un bela. La fem ci ia prosimi a me ia es serta tal, e de tipo multe noncomun. On no ia pote ave un contrasta grande entre frate e sore, car Stapleton ia es de tinje neutra, con capeles pal e oios gris, ma sua sore ia es plu oscur ca cualce capelbrun ci me ia vide en England – grasil, elegante e alta. El ia ave un fas orgulosa de forma refinada, tan regulada ce lo ta pare cisa sin emosia, si lo no ta ave la boca delicata e la oios bela, oscur e zelosa. Con sua figur perfeta e roba elegante, el ia es, vera, un apare strana sur un vieta solitar de stepe. Sua oios ia regarda sua frate cuando me ia turna, e pos esta el ia rapidi sua pasos a me. Me ia leva ja mea xapo, e ia es a punto de fa alga comenta esplicante, cuando sua propre parolas ia verje tota mea pensas a un curso nova.

I could not doubt that this was the Miss Stapleton of whom I had been told, since ladies of any sort must be few upon the moor, and I remembered that I had heard someone describe her as being a beauty. The woman who approached me was certainly that, and of a most uncommon type. There could not have been a greater contrast between brother and sister, for Stapleton was neutral tinted, with light hair and grey eyes, while she was darker than any brunette whom I have seen in England – slim, elegant, and tall. She had a proud, finely cut face, so regular that it might have seemed impassive were it not for the sensitive mouth and the beautiful dark, eager eyes. With her perfect figure and elegant dress she was, indeed, a strange apparition upon a lonely moorland path. Her eyes were on her brother as I turned, and then she quickened her pace towards me. I had raised my hat and was about to make some explanatory remark when her own words turned all my thoughts into a new channel.

“Revade!” – el ia dise. “Revade direta a London, instante.”

“Go back!” she said. “Go straight back to London, instantly.”

Me ia pote sola regarda el con surprende stupida. Sua oios ia flami a me, e el ia bateta nonpasiente la tera par sua pede.

I could only stare at her in stupid surprise. Her eyes blazed at me, and she tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.

“Perce me debe revade?” – me ia demanda.

“Why should I go back?” I asked.

“Me no pote esplica.” El ia parla en vose cuieta e stimulada, con un zezea strana en sua pronunsia. “Ma par Dio, fa como me solisita. Revade e pone nunca denova tua pede sur la stepe.”

“I cannot explain.” She spoke in a low, eager voice, with a curious lisp in her utterance. “But for God’s sake do what I ask you. Go back and never set foot upon the moor again.”

“Ma me es mera a fini de ariva.”

“But I have only just come.”

“Senior, senior!” – el ia esclama. “Esce tu no sabe cuando un averti es per tua propre bonstate? Revade a London! Comensa a esta note! Fuji de esta loca en cualce modo! Xux, mea frate veni! Repete no parola de lo cual me ia dise. Esce tu ta vole estrae per me acel orcidea de entre la ecuisitos ala? Nos es multe rica par orcideas sur la stepe, an si, natural, tu es alga tro tarda per vide la belias de la loca.”

“Man, man!” she cried. “Can you not tell when a warning is for your own good? Go back to London! Start tonight! Get away from this place at all costs! Hush, my brother is coming! Not a word of what I have said. Would you mind getting that orchid for me among the mare’s-tails yonder? We are very rich in orchids on the moor, though, of course, you are rather late to see the beauties of the place.”

Stapleton ia abandona ja la xasa e ia reveni a nos, forte respirante e rojida par sua eserses.

Stapleton had abandoned the chase and came back to us breathing hard and flushed with his exertions.

“Alo, Beryl!” – el ia dise, e lo ia pare a me ce la tono de sua saluta no es intera amin.

“Halloa, Beryl!” said he, and it seemed to me that the tone of his greeting was not altogether a cordial one.

“Bon, Jack, tu es multe calda.”

“Well, Jack, you are very hot.”

“Si, me ia xasa un siclopido. Los es multe rara e noncomun trovada en la tarda de autono. Tan triste ce me ia perde lo!”

“Yes, I was chasing a Cyclopides. He is very rare and seldom found in the late autumn. What a pity that I should have missed him!”

El ia parla sin conserna, ma sua oios peti e pal ia turna nonsesante de la fem joven a me.

He spoke unconcernedly, but his small light eyes glanced incessantly from the girl to me.

“Vos ia presenta vos, me vide.”

“You have introduced yourselves, I can see.”

“Si. Me ia dise a Sir Henry ce el es alga tro tarda per vide la belias vera de la stepe.”

“Yes. I was telling Sir Henry that it was rather late for him to see the true beauties of the moor.”

“Ma ci es esta, en tua opina?”

“Why, who do you think this is?”

“Me suposa ce el debe es Sir Henry Baskerville.”

“I imagine that it must be Sir Henry Baskerville.”

“No, no.” – me ia dise. “Mera un comunor umil, ma sua ami. Mea nom es Dr Watson.”

“No, no,” said I. “Only a humble commoner, but his friend. My name is Dr. Watson.”

Un roji de ajita ia traversa la fas espresosa de la fem.

A flush of vexation passed over her expressive face.

“Nos ia conversa en malcomprende mutua.” – el ia dise.

“We have been talking at cross purposes,” said she.

“Ma vos no ia ave multe tempo per conversa.” – sua frate ia comenta con la mesma oios curiosa.

“Why, you had not very much time for talk,” her brother remarked with the same questioning eyes.

“Me ia parla como si Dr Watson ta es un abitor en loca de mera un visitor.” – el ia dise. “Lo no pote importa multe a el esce el es tro temprana o tarda per la orcideas. Ma tu va continua, no, e vide Casa Merripit?”

“I talked as if Dr. Watson were a resident instead of being merely a visitor,” said she. “It cannot much matter to him whether it is early or late for the orchids. But you will come on, will you not, and see Merripit House?”

Un pasea corta ia trae nos a lo, un casa sombre de stepe, a ves pasada la cultiveria de alga pastor en la dias antica rica, ma aora reparada e cambiada a un abiteria moderna. Un bosce de frutas ia ensirca lo, ma la arbores, como usual sur la stepe, ia es sucreseda e danada par fria, e la efeto de la loca intera ia es gastada e melancolica. Nos ia es entrada par un servor strana e plietosa, en jaca descolorida, un om ci ia pare conveni a la casa. A interna, an tal, on ia ave salas grande, mobilida con un elegantia en cual me ia pare reconose la preferes de la seniora. Regardante de esta fenetras a la stepe nonfininte con sua manxas de granito, ondante sin interompe asta la orizon la plu distante, me no ia pote no mervelia sur la motiva cual ia gida esta om educada e esta fem bela a abita en un tal loca.

A short walk brought us to it, a bleak moorland house, once the farm of some grazier in the old prosperous days, but now put into repair and turned into a modern dwelling. An orchard surrounded it, but the trees, as is usual upon the moor, were stunted and nipped, and the effect of the whole place was mean and melancholy. We were admitted by a strange, wizened, rusty-coated old manservant, who seemed in keeping with the house. Inside, however, there were large rooms furnished with an elegance in which I seemed to recognize the taste of the lady. As I looked from their windows at the interminable granite-flecked moor rolling unbroken to the farthest horizon I could not but marvel at what could have brought this highly educated man and this beautiful woman to live in such a place.

“Un eleje strana de loca, no?” – el ia dise, como si en responde a mea pensa. “E an tal, nos susede fa ce nos es sufisinte felis, no, Beryl?”

“Queer spot to choose, is it not?” said he as if in answer to my thought. “And yet we manage to make ourselves fairly happy, do we not, Beryl?”

“Intera felis.” – el ia dise, ma sua parolas ia ave no tono convinseda.

“Quite happy,” said she, but there was no ring of conviction in her words.

“Me ia ave un scola.” – Stapleton ia dise. “Lo ia es en la norde de la pais. La labora a un om de mea tempera ia es macinal e noninteresante, ma la benefica de vive con jovenes, de aida moldi acel mentes joven, e de impresa los con sua propre carater e ideales ia es multe cara a me. An tal, la fortuna no ia favore nos. Un epidemica grave ia eruta en la scola, e tre de la xicos ia mori. Lo ia recovre nunca pos acel bate, e multe de mea capital ia es nonreganiable engolida. Ma ancora, con eseta de la perde de la acompania encantante de la xicos, me ta pote joia mea propre mal fortuna, car, con mea tendes forte a botanica e zolojia, me trova asi un campo nonlimitada de labora, e mea sore es tan dedicada a la Natur como me. Tota de esta, Dr Watson, es poneda a tua testa par causa de tua espresa cuando tu ia oserva la stepe tra nosa fenetra.

“I had a school,” said Stapleton. “It was in the north country. The work to a man of my temperament was mechanical and uninteresting, but the privilege of living with youth, of helping to mould those young minds, and of impressing them with one’s own character and ideals was very dear to me. However, the fates were against us. A serious epidemic broke out in the school and three of the boys died. It never recovered from the blow, and much of my capital was irretrievably swallowed up. And yet, if it were not for the loss of the charming companionship of the boys, I could rejoice over my own misfortune, for, with my strong tastes for botany and zoology, I find an unlimited field of work here, and my sister is as devoted to Nature as I am. All this, Dr. Watson, has been brought upon your head by your expression as you surveyed the moor out of our window.”

“Serta lo ia veni a mea mente ce lo es cisa pico noiante – min per tu, cisa, ca per tua sore.”

“It certainly did cross my mind that it might be a little dull – less for you, perhaps, than for your sister.”

“No, no, me es nunca noiada.” – el ia dise rapida.

“No, no, I am never dull,” said she quickly.

“Nos ave libros, nos ave nosa studias, e nos ave visinas interesante. Dr Mortimer es un om multe erudita en sua propre ramo. La povre Sir Charles ia es ance un acompanior amirable. Nos ia conose bon el e nos senti plu sua manca ca me pote dise. Esce tu opina ce me ta intrui si me ta visita a esta posmedia per comensa conose Sir Henry?”

“We have books, we have our studies, and we have interesting neighbours. Dr. Mortimer is a most learned man in his own line. Poor Sir Charles was also an admirable companion. We knew him well and miss him more than I can tell. Do you think that I should intrude if I were to call this afternoon and make the acquaintance of Sir Henry?”

“Me es serta ce el ta es deletada.”

“I am sure that he would be delighted.”

“Alora cisa tu ta indica ce me intende fa tal. En nosa modo umil, nos va fa cisa alga cosa afin la situa deveni plu fasil per el asta cuando el es abituada a sua ambiente nova. Esce tu ta veni a supra, Dr Watson, per esamina mea colie de papilios? Me crede ce lo es la plu completa en la sude-ueste de England. Pos cuando tu ia esplora los, la come media va es cuasi preparada.”

“Then perhaps you would mention that I propose to do so. We may in our humble way do something to make things more easy for him until he becomes accustomed to his new surroundings. Will you come upstairs, Dr. Watson, and inspect my collection of Lepidoptera? I think it is the most complete one in the south-west of England. By the time that you have looked through them lunch will be almost ready.”

Ma me ia desira forte revade a mea curada. La melancolia de la stepe, la mori de la cavalo malfortunosa, la ruido strana cual ia deveni asosiada con la lejenda macabre de la Baskervilles, tota esta cosas ia tinje mea pensas con tristia. Plu, en ajunta a esta impresa plu o min neblosa, me ia reseta la averti direta e clar par Senioreta Stapleton, vosida con seria tan intensa ce me no ia pote duta ce lo es fundida sur alga razona grave e profonda. Me ia resiste tota urjes ce me ta resta per come, e me ia comensa sin pausa mea viaja de revade, seguente la vieta erbosa longo cual nos ia ariva.

But I was eager to get back to my charge. The melancholy of the moor, the death of the unfortunate pony, the weird sound which had been associated with the grim legend of the Baskervilles, all these things tinged my thoughts with sadness. Then on the top of these more or less vague impressions there had come the definite and distinct warning of Miss Stapleton, delivered with such intense earnestness that I could not doubt that some grave and deep reason lay behind it. I resisted all pressure to stay for lunch, and I set off at once upon my return journey, taking the grass-grown path by which we had come.

Lo ia pare clar, an tal, ce alga via rapida es usable par los ci conose lo, car ante cuando me ia ateni la rua, me ia es stonada en vide Senioreta Stapleton sentante sur un roca a lado de la vieta. Sua fas ia es bela rojida par sua eserse, e el ia teni sua mano a sua lado.

It seems, however, that there must have been some short cut for those who knew it, for before I had reached the road I was astounded to see Miss Stapleton sitting upon a rock by the side of the track. Her face was beautifully flushed with her exertions and she held her hand to her side.

“Me ia core tra tota la via per suprapasa tu, Dr Watson.” – el ia dise. “Me ia ave an no la tempo per apone mea xapo. Me debe no pausa, o cisa mea frate va nota mea asentia. Me ia vole dise a tu ce me regrete tan la era stupida cual me ia fa en suposa ce tu es Sir Henry. Per favore, oblida la parolas cual me ia dise, cual ave tota no pertine a tu.”

“I have run all the way in order to cut you off, Dr. Watson,” said she. “I had not even time to put on my hat. I must not stop, or my brother may miss me. I wanted to say to you how sorry I am about the stupid mistake I made in thinking that you were Sir Henry. Please forget the words I said, which have no application whatever to you.”

“Ma me no pote oblida los, Senioreta Stapleton.” – me ia dise. “Me es la ami de Sir Henry, e sua bonstate es un conserna multe prosima a me. Dise a me per cual razona tu ia insiste tan ce Sir Henry debe revade a London.”

“But I can’t forget them, Miss Stapleton,” said I. “I am Sir Henry’s friend, and his welfare is a very close concern of mine. Tell me why it was that you were so eager that Sir Henry should return to London.”

“La capris de un fem, Dr Watson. Cuando tu conose plu bon me, tu va comprende ce me no pote sempre dona razonas per lo cual me dise o fa.”

“A woman’s whim, Dr. Watson. When you know me better you will understand that I cannot always give reasons for what I say or do.”

“No, no. Me recorda la stimula en tua vose. Me recorda la espresa en tua oios. Per favore, me prea, parla franca a me, Senioreta Stapleton, car sempre pos mea ariva asi, me es consensa de ombras ensircante me. La vive ia deveni simil a acel Pantan Grande de Grimpen, con peti rejiones verde sempre presente en cual on pote afonda, e sin gidor ci ta indica la via. Donce dise a me lo cual tu ia intende, e me va promete reporta tua averti a Sir Henry.”

“No, no. I remember the thrill in your voice. I remember the look in your eyes. Please, please, be frank with me, Miss Stapleton, for ever since I have been here I have been conscious of shadows all round me. Life has become like that great Grimpen Mire, with little green patches everywhere into which one may sink and with no guide to point the track. Tell me then what it was that you meant, and I will promise to convey your warning to Sir Henry.”

Un espresa de vasila ia pasa momental tra sua fas, ma sua oios ia duri ja denova cuando el ia responde a me.

An expression of irresolution passed for an instant over her face, but her eyes had hardened again when she answered me.

“Tu esajera la situa, Dr Watson.” – el ia dise. “Mea frate e me ia es vera multe xocada par la mori de Sir Charles. Nos ia conose multe intima el, car sua pasea prefereda ia traversa la stepe a nosa casa. El ia es profonda impresada par la maldise cual pende supra la familia, e cuando esta trajedia ia aveni, me ia senti natural ce on debe ave alga funda per la temes cual el ia espresa. Me ia es angusada, alora, cuando un otra membro de la familia ia veni per abita asi, e me ia senti ce el debe es avertida sur la peril cual el va risca. Esta ia es tota cual me ia intende dise.”

“You make too much of it, Dr. Watson,” said she. “My brother and I were very much shocked by the death of Sir Charles. We knew him very intimately, for his favourite walk was over the moor to our house. He was deeply impressed with the curse which hung over the family, and when this tragedy came I naturally felt that there must be some grounds for the fears which he had expressed. I was distressed therefore when another member of the family came down to live here, and I felt that he should be warned of the danger which he will run. That was all which I intended to convey.”

“Ma cual es la peril?”

“But what is the danger?”

“Tu conose la raconta de la can?”

“You know the story of the hound?”

“Me no crede tal babelas.”

“I do not believe in such nonsense.”

“Ma me crede. Si tu ave cualce influe a Sir Henry, gida el a via de un loca cual es ja sempre desastrosa per sua familia. La mundo es larga. Perce el ta desira vive en la loca de peril?”

“But I do. If you have any influence with Sir Henry, take him away from a place which has always been fatal to his family. The world is wide. Why should he wish to live at the place of danger?”

“Car lo es la loca de peril. Tal es la natur de Sir Henry. Me teme ce, estra si tu pote dona a me alga informa plu spesifante ca esta, lo va es nonposible ce on move el a via.”

“Because it is the place of danger. That is Sir Henry’s nature. I fear that unless you can give me some more definite information than this it would be impossible to get him to move.”

“Me pote dise no cosa spesifante, car me sabe no cosa spesifante.”

“I cannot say anything definite, for I do not know anything definite.”

“Me vole fa un plu demanda a tu, Senioreta Stapleton. Si tu ia intende no plu ca esta cuando tu ia parla prima a me, perce tu no ia vole ce tua frate oia lo cual tu dise? Lo conteni no cosa cual el, o cualce otra person, ta pote oposa.”

“I would ask you one more question, Miss Stapleton. If you meant no more than this when you first spoke to me, why should you not wish your brother to overhear what you said? There is nothing to which he, or anyone else, could object.”

“Mea frate es multe zelosa ce la Cason deveni abitada, car el opina ce lo va benefica la persones povre sur la stepe. El ta es multe coler si el ta sabe ce me ia dise cualce cosa cual ta indui Sir Henry a parti. Ma me ia fa aora mea debe e me va dise no plu. Me nesesa revade, o el va nota mea asentia e va suspeta ce me ia vide tu. Bon dia!”

“My brother is very anxious to have the Hall inhabited, for he thinks it is for the good of the poor folk upon the moor. He would be very angry if he knew that I have said anything which might induce Sir Henry to go away. But I have done my duty now and I will say no more. I must go back, or he will miss me and suspect that I have seen you. Good-bye!”

El ia turna, e pos un pico de minutos ia desapare entre la rocones sperdeda, en cuando me, con spirito plen de temes nonclar, ia segue mea via a Cason Baskerville.

She turned and had disappeared in a few minutes among the scattered boulders, while I, with my soul full of vague fears, pursued my way to Baskerville Hall.

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