The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1902-08-03

pressive face. I'VE have been talking at
cross purposes" said she.
why, you had not very much time for
talk" he brother remarked, with the same
questioning eyes.
81 talked as if Doctor Watson was 4 res
ident instead of merely a visitor" said she
1t cannot much matter TO him whether 1t
Is early or late for the orchids. But "Du
will come on, will you not, and see MerripIt
| Bouse?"
, 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 modern
dwelling. An orchard surrounded IT. but
the trees, as Is usual upon the moor, we've
stunted and nipped, and the effect of the
whole place was mean and melancholy. We
were admitted by a Strange. wiZened, rusty
coated old man servant. who seemei in
keeping with the house. Inside. however,
there were large rooms furnished with an
elegance in which l seemed to recognize
the taste of the lady. As / looked from their
windows at the interminable granite-fa"ked
moor rolling unbroken TO the farthest hori-
ION l could not but marvel at what couli
have brought this highly educated man and
this beautiful woman TO live in such a
place
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?"
Quite happy" said he, but there was no
ring of conviction In her words.
Il had a school," said Stapleton. TT 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
ones own character and ideals was very
dear to me. However, the fates were
against us. A serious epidemic broke ont
in the school and three Of the boys died
1t never recovered from the blow. and
much of my capital WAS irTetrievably swal-
lowed up. And yet, II II were not for the
loss OF the charming companionship OF the
boys, l could rejoice over my own misfor-
tune. for, with my strong tastes for botany
and zoology, l find an unlimited field Of
work here, and my sister is as devoted to
Nature as l am. All this, DIR. Watson. has
been brought upon your head by your eX-
preston as you surveyed the moor out OF
our window"
1T certainly did cross my mind that It
might be a little dull-less for you, perhaps,
than for your sister"
No. no; l am never dull" said she,
quickly.
I'VE have our books, we have our studies,
and We have interesting neighbors. 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 / can tell. Do
you think that ! should intrude If ] were
to call this afternoon and make the ac-
quaintance of Sir Henry
81 am sure that he would be delighted"
Then perhaps you would mention that
l 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 col
lection of lepidoptera? l think it is the
most complete one in the southwest OF
England. By the time that you have looked
through them lunch will be almost ready"
But l 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 district warning of Miss Staple
ton, delivered with such intense earnest
ness that I could not doubt that some grave
and deep reason lay behind it. / resisted
all pressure to stay for lunch. and 1 set off
at once upon my return Journey. taking the
gr~ass-Srown path by which We had come.
1t seems, however, that there must have