ssibly have heard my name from our mutual friend, Mortimer. I
am Stapleton, of Merripit House."

"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?"

"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?"

"He is very well, thank you."

"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 country-side. Sir Henry has, I suppose, no
superstitious fears in the matter?"

"I do not think that it is likely."

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

"I have heard it."

"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."

"But how?"

"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."

"How did you know that?"

"My friend Mortimer told me."

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

"Have you any better explanation?"

"I have not come to any conclusion."

"Has Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

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.

"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 interesti