‘Holmes!’ I said in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I am watching,’ said Holmes. ‘I am waiting for the murderer to show himself.’
‘The murderer? Do you mean Selden? Selden is dead.’
‘I know. I was on the Tor last night and saw what happened,’ Holmes said. ‘Someone wanted to kill Sir Henry Baskerville, not Selden.’
‘But how long have you been here?’ I asked. ‘And why are you here in secret?’
‘I came here on the same day as you,’ answered Sherlock Holmes. ‘I came in secret because the murderer is clever. He will not show himself if he knows I am here.’
‘And what about my letters?’ I asked. ‘Have you read them?’
‘Yes, I have,’ Holmes replied. ‘They were sent to me from London. But I have not read your report of last night. Come. Tell me about it as we walk to Baskerville Hall.
He left the farmhouse and I walked quickly after him. The sun had gone down and it was getting dark. A thick white mist was rising from the moor.
‘You are a good detective,’ said Holmes. ‘Tell me, how did you find me? How did you know I was at High Tor Farm?’
‘I did not know it was you,’ I answered. ‘Mr Frankland saw you through his telescope. And he saw the boy who brought you food and letters. He thought you were Selden, the murderer. Also, I saw you last night on the Tor.’
‘I see,’ said Holmes. ‘If you saw me, I think the murderer of Sir Charles Baskerville saw me too. He will want to kill me as well as Sir Henry.’
‘So,’ I said, ‘you think that Sir Charles was murdered?’
‘I am sure of it,’ said Holmes. ‘Now, stay on the path.’
It was dark and the moon had not come up. We had to walk carefully. The path went through the Great Grimpen Mire and a sea of soft mud lay under the grass on either side of us.
Behind us, we heard that strange sound, the deep howling sound I had heard on the moor last night. It made me shiver with fear.
‘What is it, Holmes?’ I asked. ‘Do you know what makes that sound.’
‘No,’ he answered, ‘but the village people say it is the Hound of the Baskervilles. I will not go back to High Tor Farm tonight. Come. We must hurry. Keep your revolver ready.’
We walked quickly along the dark path. I was pleased to see the lights of Baskerville Hall in front of us. I was afraid of what was behind us — out on the moor, at night.