Chapter VIII.

First Report of Dr. Watson

From this point onward I will follow the course of events by transcribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before me on the table. One page is missing, but otherwise they are exactly as written and show my feelings and suspicions of the moment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon these tragic events, can possibly do.

Baskerville Hall, October 13th.

My dear Holmes:

My previous letters and telegrams have kept you pretty well up to date as to all that has occurred in this most God-forsaken corner of the world. The longer one stays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one's soul, its vastness, and also its grim charm. When you are once out upon its bosom you have left all traces of modern England behind you, but on the other hand you are conscious everywhere of the homes and the work of the prehistoric people. On all sides of you as you walk are the houses of these forgotten folk, with their graves and the huge monoliths which are supposed to have marked their temples. As you look at their gray stone huts against the scarred hill-sides you leave your own age behind you, and if you were to see a skin-clad, hairy man crawl out from the low door fitting a flint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow, you would feel that his presence there was more natural than your own. The strange thing is that they should have lived so thickly on what must always have been most unfruitful soil. I am no antiquarian, but I could imagine that they were some unwarlike and harried race who were forced to accept that which none other would occupy.

All this, however, is foreign to the mission on which you sent me and will probably be very uninteresting to your severely practical mind. I can still remember your complete indifference as to whether the sun moved round the earth or the earth round the sun. Let me, therefore, return to the facts concerning Sir Henry Baskerville.

If you have not had any report within the last few days it is because up to to-day there was nothing of importance to relate. Then a very surprising circumstance occurred, which I shall tell you in due course. But, first of all, I must keep you in touch with some of the other factors in the situation.

One of these, concerning which I have said little, is the escaped convict upon the moor. There is strong reason now to believe that he has got right away, which is a considerable relief to the lonely householders of this district. A fortnight has passed since his flight, during which he has not been seen and nothing has been heard of him. It is surely inconceivable that he could have held out upon the moor during all that time. Of course, so far as his concealment goes there is no difficulty at all. Any one of these stone huts would give him a hiding-place. But there is nothing to eat unless he were to catch and slaughter one of the moor sheep. We think, therefore, that he has gone, and the outlying farmers sleep the better in consequence.

We are four able-bodied men in this household, so that we could take good care of ourselves, but I confess that I have had uneasy moments when I have thought of the Stapletons. They live miles from any help. There are one maid, an old manservant, the sister, and the brother, the latter not a very strong man. They would be helpless in the hands of a desperate fellow like this Notting Hill criminal, if he could once effect an entrance. Both Sir Henry and I were concerned at their situation, and it was suggested that Perkins the groom should go over to sleep there, but Stapleton would not hear of it.

The fact is that our friend, the baronet, begins to display a considerable interest in our fair neighbour. It is not to be wondered at, for time hangs heavily in this lonely spot to an active man like him, and she is a very fascinating and beautiful woman. There is something tropical and exotic about her which forms a singular contrast to her cool and unemotional brother. Yet he also gives the idea of hidden fires. He has certainly a very marked influence over her, for I have seen her continually glance at him as she talked as if seeking approbation for what she said. I trust that he is kind to her. There is a dry glitter in his eyes, and a firm set of his thin lips, which goes with a positive and possibly a harsh nature. You would find him an interesting study.

He came over to call upon Baskerville on that first day, and the very next morning he took us both to show us the spot where the legend of the wicked Hugo is supposed to have had its origin. It was an excursion of some miles across the moor to a place which is so dismal that it might have suggested the story. We found a short valley between rugged tors which led to an open, grassy space flecked over with the white cotton grass. In the middle of it rose two great stones, worn and sharpened at the upper end, until they looked like the huge corroding fangs of some monstrous beast. In every way it corresponded with the scene of the old tragedy. Sir Henry was much interested and asked Stapleton more than once whether he did really believe in the possibility of the interference of the supernatural in the affairs of men. He spoke lightly, but it was evident that he was very much in earnest. Stapleton was guarded in his replies, but it was easy to see that he said less than he might, and that he would not express his whole opinion out of consideration for the feelings of the baronet. He told us of similar cases, where families had suffered from some evil influence, and he left us with the impression that he shared the popular view upon the matter.

On our way back we stayed for lunch at Merripit House, and it was there that Sir Henry made the acquaintance of Miss Stapleton. From the first moment that he saw her he appeared to be strongly attracted by her, and I am much mistaken if the feeling was not mutual. He referred to her again and again on our walk home, and since then hardly a day has passed that we have not seen something of the brother and sister. They dine here to-night, and there is some talk of our going to them next week. One would imagine that such a match would be very welcome to Stapleton, and yet I have more than once caught a look of the strongest disapprobation in his face when Sir Henry has been paying some attention to his sister. He is much attached to her, no doubt, and would lead a lonely life without her, but it would seem the height of selfishness if he were to stand in the way of her making so brilliant a marriage. Yet I am certain that he does not wish their intimacy to ripen into love, and I have several times observed that he has taken pains to prevent them from being tête-à-tête. By the way, your instructions to me never to allow Sir Henry to go out alone will become very much more onerous if a love affair were to be added to our other difficulties. My popularity would soon suffer if I were to carry out your orders to the letter.

The other day—Thursday, to be more exact—Dr. Mortimer lunched with us. He has been excavating a barrow at Long Down, and has got a prehistoric skull which fills him with great joy. Never was there such a single-minded enthusiast as he! The Stapletons came in afterwards, and the good doctor took us all to the Yew Alley, at Sir Henry's request, to show us exactly how everything occurred upon that fatal night. It is a long, dismal walk, the Yew Alley, between two high walls of clipped hedge, with a narrow band of grass upon either side. At the far end is an old tumble-down summer-house. Half-way down is the moor-gate, where the old gentleman left his cigar-ash. It is a white wooden gate with a latch. Beyond it lies the wide moor. I remembered your theory of the affair and tried to picture all that had occurred. As the old man stood there he saw something coming across the moor, something which terrified him so that he lost his wits, and ran and ran until he died of sheer horror and exhaustion. There was the long, gloomy tunnel down which he fled. And from what? A sheep-dog of the moor? Or a spectral hound, black, silent, and monstrous? Was there a human agency in the matter? Did the pale, watchful Barrymore know more than he cared to say? It was all dim and vague, but always there is the dark shadow of crime behind it.

One other neighbour I have met since I wrote last. This is Mr. Frankland, of Lafter Hall, who lives some four miles to the south of us. He is an elderly man, red-faced, white-haired, and choleric. His passion is for the British law, and he has spent a large fortune in litigation. He fights for the mere pleasure of fighting and is equally ready to take up either side of a question, so that it is no wonder that he has found it a costly amusement. Sometimes he will shut up a right of way and defy the parish to make him open it. At others he will with his own hands tear down some other man's gate and declare that a path has existed there from time immemorial, defying the owner to prosecute him for trespass. He is learned in old manorial and communal rights, and he applies his knowledge sometimes in favour of the villagers of Fernworthy and sometimes against them, so that he is periodically either carried in triumph down the village street or else burned in effigy, according to his latest exploit. He is said to have about seven lawsuits upon his hands at present, which will probably swallow up the remainder of his fortune and so draw his sting and leave him harmless for the future. Apart from the law he seems a kindly, good-natured person, and I only mention him because you were particular that I should send some description of the people who surround us. He is curiously employed at present, for, being an amateur astronomer, he has an excellent telescope, with which he lies upon the roof of his own house and sweeps the moor all day in the hope of catching a glimpse of the escaped convict. If he would confine his energies to this all would be well, but there are rumours that he intends to prosecute Dr. Mortimer for opening a grave without the consent of the next-of-kin, because he dug up the Neolithic skull in the barrow on Long Down. He helps to keep our lives from being monotonous and gives a little comic relief where it is badly needed.

And now, having brought you up to date in the escaped convict, the Stapletons, Dr. Mortimer, and Frankland, of Lafter Hall, let me end on that which is most important and tell you more about the Barrymores, and especially about the surprising development of last night.

First of all about the test telegram, which you sent from London in order to make sure that Barrymore was really here. I have already explained that the testimony of the postmaster shows that the test was worthless and that we have no proof one way or the other. I told Sir Henry how the matter stood, and he at once, in his downright fashion, had Barrymore up and asked him whether he had received the telegram himself. Barrymore said that he had.

“Did the boy deliver it into your own hands?” asked Sir Henry.

Barrymore looked surprised, and considered for a little time.

“No,” said he, “I was in the box-room at the time, and my wife brought it up to me.”

“Did you answer it yourself?”

“No; I told my wife what to answer and she went down to write it.”

In the evening he recurred to the subject of his own accord.

“I could not quite understand the object of your questions this morning, Sir Henry,” said he. “I trust that they do not mean that I have done anything to forfeit your confidence?”

Sir Henry had to assure him that it was not so and pacify him by giving him a considerable part of his old wardrobe, the London outfit having now all arrived.

Mrs. Barrymore is of interest to me. She is a heavy, solid person, very limited, intensely respectable, and inclined to be puritanical. You could hardly conceive a less emotional subject. Yet I have told you how, on the first night here, I heard her sobbing bitterly, and since then I have more than once observed traces of tears upon her face. Some deep sorrow gnaws ever at her heart. Sometimes I wonder if she has a guilty memory which haunts her, and sometimes I suspect Barrymore of being a domestic tyrant. I have always felt that there was something singular and questionable in this man's character, but the adventure of last night brings all my suspicions to a head.

And yet it may seem a small matter in itself. You are aware that I am not a very sound sleeper, and since I have been on guard in this house my slumbers have been lighter than ever. Last night, about two in the morning, I was aroused by a stealthy step passing my room. I rose, opened my door, and peeped out. A long black shadow was trailing down the corridor. It was thrown by a man who walked softly down the passage with a candle held in his hand. He was in shirt and trousers, with no covering to his feet. I could merely see the outline, but his height told me that it was Barrymore. He walked very slowly and circumspectly, and there was something indescribably guilty and furtive in his whole appearance.

I have told you that the corridor is broken by the balcony which runs round the hall, but that it is resumed upon the farther side. I waited until he had passed out of sight and then I followed him. When I came round the balcony he had reached the end of the farther corridor, and I could see from the glimmer of light through an open door that he had entered one of the rooms. Now, all these rooms are unfurnished and unoccupied, so that his expedition became more mysterious than ever. The light shone steadily as if he were standing motionless. I crept down the passage as noiselessly as I could and peeped round the corner of the door.

Barrymore was crouching at the window with the candle held against the glass. His profile was half turned towards me, and his face seemed to be rigid with expectation as he stared out into the blackness of the moor. For some minutes he stood watching intently. Then he gave a deep groan and with an impatient gesture he put out the light. Instantly I made my way back to my room, and very shortly came the stealthy steps passing once more upon their return journey. Long afterwards when I had fallen into a light sleep I heard a key turn somewhere in a lock, but I could not tell whence the sound came. What it all means I cannot guess, but there is some secret business going on in this house of gloom which sooner or later we shall get to the bottom of. I do not trouble you with my theories, for you asked me to furnish you only with facts. I have had a long talk with Sir Henry this morning, and we have made a plan of campaign founded upon my observations of last night. I will not speak about it just now, but it should make my next report interesting reading.

第八章　华生医生的第一份报告

从此以后，我要按照事情发生的前后，把放在我面前的桌子上的、我写给歇洛克·福尔摩斯先生的信件抄录下来。虽然其中一篇已经遗失，但我相信我现在所写的内容与事实绝无出入。我对这些可悲的事件记忆得很清楚，可是这些信总还是能更准确地说明我当时的感觉和怀疑的。

我亲一爱一的福尔摩斯：我以前发的信和电报，谅已使你及时地了解了在这个最荒凉的角落里所发生的一切。一个人在这里呆得愈久，沼地的神貌就会愈深地渗入你的心灵，它是那样的广大，具有那样可怕的魔力。只要你一到了沼地的中心，你就要看不到近代英国的丝毫的痕迹了：可是另一方面，你在这里到处都能看到史前人的房屋和劳动成果。在你散步的时候，四周都是这些被人遗忘的人们的房屋，还有他们的坟墓和粗一大的石柱，这些石柱，可能就标明了他们的庙宇之所在。当你在斑驳的山坡上看到那些用灰色岩石建成的小屋的时候，你就会忘记你现在所处的年代了，如果你竟看到从低矮的门洞里爬出一个身披兽皮、一毛一发茸茸的人，将燧石箭头的箭搭在弓弦上，你会感到他的出现比你本人在这里还要自然得多呢。奇怪的倒是在这一直都是最贫瘠的土地上，他们竟会住得那样稠密。我并不是个考古学家，可是我能想象得出，他们都是些不喜争斗而受人蹂一躏的种族，被迫接受了这块谁也不愿居住的地方。

显然，这些都是和你将我派来这里执行的任务毫无关系的东西，而且对你这样最讲求实际的人来说，可能会感到很乏味。我还记得在谈到究竟是太一陽一围着地球转还是地球围太一陽一转这个问题的时候，你的那种漠不关心的态度。还是让我回到关于亨利·巴斯克维尔爵士的事情上来吧。

如果说你前些天没有收到任何报告的话，那是因为一直还没有发生过什么值得报告的重要情况。可是，后来发生了一件很惊人的事情，我现在就一五一十地向你报告吧。首先，我得使你对于整个情况中的其他一些有关的因素有个了解。

其中之一就是我很少谈到的沼地里的那个逃犯。现已完全可以相信，他已经跑了，这对在本区住得很分散的居民说来，是可以大大地松一口气了。从他逃跑以来已有两星期了，在这期间，没有人看见过他，也没有听到过关于他的消息。确实很难想象，他在这段时间内能始终坚持呆在沼地里。当然了，如果单就藏匿这个问题来看，他是毫无困难的，任何一所石头小房都可以作为他的藏身之所。可是除非他能捕杀沼地里的羊，否则他是什么吃的东西都没有的。因此我们就认为他已经逃走了，而那些住得边远的农民们也就可以睡得稍为安心些了。

我们这里一起住着四个身强力壮的男人，因此我们还能很好地照顾自己。可是坦白地说，我一想起斯台普吞这一家来，心中就感到不安。他们住的地方是一处方圆几英里之内孤立无援的所在，家中只有一个女仆、一个老男仆和他们兄妹二人，而这个哥哥也不是个很强壮的人。如果这个来自瑙亭山的逃犯一旦闯进门去的话，落在这样一个不要命的家伙手里，他们真会被弄得束手无策呢。亨利爵士和我都很关心他们的情况，并且还曾建议让马夫波金斯到他们那边去睡，可是斯台普吞却不以为然。

事实上，咱们的朋友——这位准男爵，对我们的女邻居已开始表现出相当大的兴趣来了。这本是不足为奇的事，对他这样一个好动的人来说，在这样一个孤寂的地方实在无聊得很，而她又是个很动人的美一女。在她身上，有着一种热带的异国情调，这一特点和她哥哥的冷淡而不易动情形成了奇特的对比，但是，他也使人感觉到在他的内心潜藏着烈火似的情感。他肯定具有左右她的力量，因为我曾看到，她在谈话的时候不断地望着他，好象她所说的话都需要征求他的同意似的。我相信他待她很好。他的两眼炯炯有神，嘴唇薄而坚定，这些特点往往显示着一种独断和可能是粗一暴的一性一格。我想你一定会感到他是个很有趣的研究对象吧。

第一天他就来拜访了巴斯克维尔，第二天早晨，他又带领着我们两人去看据说是关于放一荡的修果的那段传说的出事地点。在沼地里走了好几英里才到，那个地方十分荒凉凄惨，很可能使人触景生情，编出那个故事来。我们在两座乱石岗中间发现了一段短短的山沟，顺着这条山沟走过去，就到了一片开阔而多草的空地，到处都长着白棉草。空地中央矗着两块大石，顶端已被风化得成了尖形，很象是什么庞大的野兽的被磨损了的獠牙。这个景象确实和传说中的那旧时悲剧的情景相符。亨利爵士很感兴趣，并且不止一次地问过斯台普吞，是否真的相信妖魔鬼怪可能会干预人类的事。他说话的时候，表面似乎漫不经心，可是显而易见，他内心里是非常认真的。斯台普吞回答得非常小心，很容易看得出来他是要尽量少说，似乎是考虑到对准男爵情绪的影响，他不愿把自己的意见全部表白出来。他和我们说了一些类似的事情，说有些家庭也曾遭受过恶魔的一騷一扰，所以他使我们感觉到他对这件事的看法也和一般人一样。

在归途中，我们在梅利琵吃了午饭，亨利爵士和斯台普吞小一姐就是在那里结识的。他一见她似乎就被强烈地吸引住了，而且我敢说，这种一爱一慕之情还是出自双方的。在我们回家的路上，他还一再地提到她。从那天起，我们几乎每天都和他们兄妹见面。今晚他们在这里吃饭时就曾谈到我们下礼拜到他们那里去的问题。人们一定会认为，这样的一对如果结合起来，斯台普吞一定会欢迎的，可是我不止一次地看到过，每当亨利爵士对他妹妹稍加注视的时候，斯台普吞的脸上就露出极为强烈的反感。他无疑地是非常喜欢她的，没有了她，他的生活就会非常寂寞，可是如果他竟因此而阻碍她这样美好的婚姻，那未免也太过于自私了。我敢肯定地说，他并不希望他们的亲密感情发展成为一爱一情，而且我还多次发现过，他曾想尽方法避免使他俩有独处密谈的机会。嗯，你曾指示过我，永远不许亨利爵士单独出去，可是在我们的其他种种困难之外再加上一爱一情的问题，这可就难办得多了。如果我当真坚决彻底地执行你的命令的话，那我就可能会变成不受欢迎的人了。

那一天——更准确地说是星期四——摩梯末和我们一起吃饭，他在长岗地方发掘了一座古坟，弄到了一具史前人的颅骨，他为之喜出望外。真没有见过象他这样一心一意的热心人！后来斯台普吞兄妹也来了，在亨利爵士的请求之下，这位好心肠的医生就领我们到水松夹道去了，给我们说明了在查尔兹爵士丧命的那天晚上，事情发生的全部经过。这次散步既漫长而又沉闷，那条水松夹道被夹在两行高高的剪齐的树篱中间，小路两旁各有一条狭长的草地，尽头处有一栋破烂的旧凉亭。那扇开向沼地的小门正在中间，老绅士曾在那儿留下了雪茄烟灰，是一扇装有门闩的白色木门，外面就是广阔的沼地。我还记得你对这件事的看法，我在心中试着想象出全部发生过的事情的实况。大概是当老人站在那里的时候，他看见有什么东西穿过沼地向他跑了过来，那东西把他吓得惊慌失措地奔跑起来，一直跑到因恐惧和力竭而死为止。

他就是顺着那条长而一陰一森的夹道奔跑的。可是，他为什么要跑呢？只因为沼地上的一只看羊狗吗？还是看到了一只不出声的鬼怪似的黑色大猎狗呢？是有人在其中捣鬼吗？是不是那白皙而警觉的白瑞摩对他所知道的情况还有所隐瞒呢？这一切都显得扑朔迷一离，可是我总觉得幕后有着罪恶的一陰一影。

从上次给你写信以后，我又遇到了另一个邻人，就是赖福特庄园的弗兰克兰先生，他住在我们南面约四英里远的地方。他是一位长者，面色红一润，头发银白，一性一情暴躁。他对英国的法律有着癖好，并为诉讼而花掉了大量的财产。他所以与人争讼，不过是为了获得争讼的快一感，至于说站在问题的哪一面，则全都一样，无怪乎他要感到这真是个费钱的玩艺儿呢。有时他竟隔断一条路并公然反抗教区让他开放的命令；有时竟又亲手拆毁别人的大门，并声言很久很久以前这里早是一条通路，反驳原主对他提出的侵害诉讼。他一精一通旧采邑权法和公共权法，他有时利用他的知识维护弗恩沃西村居民的利益，但有时又用来反对他们。因此，根据他所做的事，他就时而被人胜利地抬起来走过村中的大街，时而被人做成草人烧掉。据说目前他手中还有七宗未了的讼案，说不定这些讼案就会吞光他仅余的财产呢。到那时候，他就会象一只被拔掉毒刺的黄蜂那样再也不能为害于人了。如果把法律问题放开不谈，他倒象是个和蔼可亲的人。我不过只是提一提他而已，因为你特意嘱咐过我，应该寄给你一些对周围人们情况的描述。他现在正在莫名其妙地忙着，他是个业余天文学家，有一架绝佳的望远镜，他就一天到晚地伏一在自己的屋顶上，用它向沼地上了望，希望能发现那个逃犯。如果他能把一精一力都花费在这件事上，那么一切也就都能太平无事了，可是据谣传，他现在正想以未得死者近亲的同意而私掘坟墓的罪名控靠摩梯末医生。因为摩梯末从长岗地方的古墓里掘出了一具新石器时代人的颅骨。这位弗兰克兰先生确实有助于打破我们生活的单调，并在迫切需要的时候使我们得到一些娱人心怀的小趣味。

现在，已给你及时地介绍了那逃犯、斯台普吞、摩梯末医生和赖福特庄园的弗兰克兰。下面再让我告诉你一些关于白瑞摩的最重要的事情作为结束吧，其中特别是昨晚的那种惊人发展更加值得注意。

第一件就是关于你由伦敦发来的那封为了证实白瑞摩是否确实呆在这里的试探一性一的电报。我已向你解释过，邮政局长的话说明那次试探是毫无结果的，咱们什么也没能证明。我把事情的真相告诉了亨利爵士，可是他马上就直截了当地把白瑞摩叫了来，问他是否亲自收到了那封电报。白瑞摩说是的。

“那孩子亲自一交一给你的吗？”亨利爵士问道。

白瑞摩好象很惊讶，他稍稍地考虑了一会儿。

“不是，”他说道，“当时我正在楼上小屋里面呢，是我妻子给我送上来的。”

“是你亲自回的电报吗？”

“不是，我告诉了我妻子应当怎样回答，她就下楼去写了。”

当晚，白瑞摩又重新提起了这个问题。

“我不大明白，今天早晨您提出那问题来的目的何在，亨利爵士，”他说道，“我想，您所以那样问我，不会是说我已作了什么事使您失去对我的信任了吧？”

亨利爵士这时不得不向他保证说绝无此意，并且把自己大部的旧衣服都给了他，以使他安心。因为在伦敦新置办的东西现在已经全部运来了。

白瑞摩太太引起了我的注意，她生得胖而结实，很拘谨，极为可敬，几乎是带着清教徒式的严峻，你很难想象出一个比她更难动情感的人来了。可是我曾告诉过你，在我到这里来的第一天晚上，曾听到她伤心地啜泣过，从那以后，我不止一次地看到她脸上带有泪痕，深重的悲哀在噬啮着她的心。

有时我想，是否她心中存有什么内疚；有时我怀疑白瑞摩也许是个家庭的暴君。我总觉得在这个人的一性一格里有些特别可疑之处，可是昨晚的奇遇消除了我全部的怀疑。

也许这事情本身是微不足道的。你知道，我是个睡觉不很沉的人，又因为我在这所房子里时刻警醒着的缘故，所以我的觉睡得比平常还要不踏实。昨天晚上，大约在午夜以后两点钟的时候，我被屋外偷偷走过的脚步声惊醒了。我爬了起来，打开我的房门，偷偷地往外瞧，有一条长长的黑影投射在走廊的地上。那是一个手里拿着蜡烛、轻轻地沿着过道走去的身影，他穿着衬衫和长裤，光着双脚。我只能看到他身一体的轮廓，可是，由他的身材可以看得出来，这人就是白瑞摩。他走得很慢，很谨慎，由他的整个外表看来，有一种难以形容的鬼鬼祟祟不可告人的样子。

我曾告诉过你，那环绕大厅的走廊是被一段一陽一台隔断了的，可是在一陽一台的另一侧又继续下去了。我一直等到他走得不见了以后才又跟踪上去，当我走近一陽一台的时候，他已走到远处走廊的尽头了，我看到了由一扇开着的门里射一出来的灯光，就知道他已走进了一个房间。由于这些房间现在既无陈设又无人住，所以他的行止就愈发显得诡秘了。灯光很稳定，似乎他是在一动不动地站着，我蹑手蹑脚、尽量不出声地沿走廊走去，并从门边向屋里偷看。

白瑞摩在窗前弯着腰，拿着蜡烛，凑近窗玻璃，头部侧面半向着我，当他向着漆黑的沼地注视的时候，面部因焦急而显得十分严肃。他站在那里专心一志地观察了几分钟，然后他深深地叹了一口气，以一种不耐烦的手势弄灭了蜡烛。我马上就回房去了，没有多久就传来了潜行回去的脚步声。过了很久以后，在我刚要矇胧入睡的时候，我听到什么地方有拧锁头的声音，可是我说不出声音来自何方。我猜不出这些都意味着什么，可是我想，在这一陰一森森的房子里正在进行着一件隐秘的事，我们早晚会把它弄个水落石出的。我不愿拿我的看法来打搅你，因为你曾要求我只须提供事实。今天早晨我曾和亨利爵士长谈了一次，根据我昨晚所作的观察，我们已作出了一个行动计划。我现在还不打算谈，可是它一定会使我的下一篇报告读起来饶有兴趣的。