old tin mine on an island in the heart of the mire.
It was there that he kept his hound and there also he had made
preparations so that he might have a refuge. That is where he
would fly."

The fog-bank lay like white wool against the window. Holmes held
the lamp towards it.

"See," said he. "No one could find his way into the Grimpen Mire
to-night."

She laughed and clapped her hands. Her eyes and teeth gleamed
with fierce merriment.

"He may find his way in, but never out," she cried. "How can he
see the guiding wands to-night? We planted them together, he and
I, to mark the pathway through the mire. Oh, if I could only have
plucked them out to-day. Then indeed you would have had him at
your mercy!"

It was evident to us that all pursuit was in vain until the fog
had lifted. Meanwhile we left Lestrade in possession of the house
while Holmes and I went back with the baronet to Baskerville
Hall. The story of the Stapletons could no longer be withheld
from him, but he took the blow bravely when he learned the truth
about the woman whom he had loved. But the shock of the night's
adventures had shattered his nerves, and before morning he lay
delirious in a high fever, under the care of Dr. Mortimer. The
two of them were destined to travel together round the world
before Sir Henry had become once more the hale, hearty man that
he had been before he became master of that ill-omened estate.

And now I come rapidly to the conclusion of this singular
narrative, in which I have tried to make the reader share those
dark fears and vague surmises which clouded our lives so long and
ended in so tragic a manner. On the morning after the death of
the hound the fog had lifted and we were guided by Mrs. Stapleton
to the point where they had found a pathway through the bog. It
helped us to realize the horror of this woman's life when we saw
the eagerness and joy with which she laid us on her husband's
track. We left her standing upon the thin peninsula of firm,
peaty soil which tapered out into the widespread bog. From the
end of it a small wand planted here and there showed where the
path zigzagged from tuft to tuft of rushes among those
green-scummed pits and foul quagmires which barred the way to the
stranger. Rank reeds and lush, slimy water-plants sent an odour
of decay and a heavy miasmatic vapour onto our faces, while a
false step plunged us more than once thigh-deep into the dark,
quivering mire, which shook for yards