这个故事发生在英格兰西南的Dartmoor, 那是一片荒野，遍地沼泽石山。巴斯克维尔庄园的主人Sir Charles Baskerville不明不白死去——据称被大如骏马的巨犬咬死。是真是假？谁能解开这个谜团……

My name is Doctor Watson. I am writing this story about my friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective.
    　Sherlock Holmes lives at 221B Baker Street, in the middle of London. My story begins in Baker Street, one morning in 1889, when a man knocked on the door.
    　I heard the man say, “Mr Holmes? My name is Dr Mortimer. I need your help.”
    　“Come in,” said Holmes. “How can I help you?”
    　“I have a strange story to tell you, Mr Holmes,” said Dr Mortimer. “My story is very strange. Perhaps you will not believe me.”
     　Dr Mortimer sat down. Sherlock Holmes and I listened to his story.
     　“I am a doctor and I work in the country,” said Dr Mortimer. “I live and work on Dartmoor. And, as you know, Dartmoor is a large, wild place. There is only one big house on Dartmoor— Baskerville Hall. The owner of the house was Sir Charles Baskerville. I was his friend as well as his doctor. ”
    　“I read of his death in The Times newspaper,” said Holmes.
    　“That was three months ago,” said Dr Mortimer. “The newspaper reported his death, but it did not report all the facts.”
    “Was there something strange about his death?” asked Sherlock Holmes.
    　“I am not certain,” said Dr Mortimer. “There was a story about a curse3 on the Baskerville family. Sir Charles believed this old story.”
    　“A curse?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
    　“Here is the story,” said Dr Mortimer. He took a large piece of paper out of his pocket. “Please read this. It is the story of the Curse of the Baskervilles.”
    　Holmes took the paper and read it. “It is called ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’,” he said. He showed me the paper. This is what it said:
    　In the year 1645, Sir Hugo Baskerville was the owner of Baskerville Hall． Sir Hugo was a cruel man who did not believe in God． Every day he went out hunting and drinking with a gang4 of wild friends．
    　A farmer on Dartmoor had a beautiful daughter． Sir Hugo wanted to marry the girl, but she was afraid of him． The girl＇s father told Sir Hugo to stay away from his farm． Sir Hugo was very angry．
    　One day, when the farmer was working in his fields, Sir Hugo rode to the farm with his friends． They caught the girl and took her to Baskerville Hall．
    　The poor girl was terrified． Sir Hugo locked her in a bedroom． Then he started drinking with his gang． When he was drunk, he became more wild and cruel． He shouted at his men and hit them．
　　The frightened girl waited until it was dark． Then she opened a window and escaped from Baskerville Hall．
   　Her father＇s farm was about four miles away． It was night, but she was able to follow the path in the moonlight． She started to run across the dark moor5．
    　Sir Hugo went to the girl＇s room． It was empty and Sir Hugo was terribly angry． He ran to his men and jumped onto the table where they were drinking． He kicked the plates and glasses off the table． “Fetch the horses!” he shouted． “Get the girl!”
    　They all ran outside and jumped onto their horses． Sir Hugo kept a pack6 of wild dogs for hunting． “Let the dogs find her!” he shouted． “The Devil can take me if I do not catch her!”
  　  The dogs ran out across the dark moor． Sir Hugo and his men rode after them． The dogs barked and Sir Hugo shouted．
   　 Then they heard another noise． It was louder than the noise of barking and shouting． The dogs stopped and listened． They were afraid．
    　The men heard the noise too． It was a loud and deep howling7 sound—the sound of a huge dog howling at the moon． The men stopped their horses, but Sir Hugo rode on． He wanted to catch the girl．
   　 Sir Hugo did not catch the girl． Suddenly his horse stopped and threw him to the ground． The horse ran away in terror．
   　 In the moonlight, the men saw a strange, black animal． It looked liked a dog with huge, fiery eyes． But it was as big as a horse． All the men became very frightened．
  　  The huge black dog jumped on Sir Hugo Baskerville and killed him． The other men ran away into the night and Sir Hugo was never seen again．
　　Since that time, many of the sons of the Baskerville family have died while they were young． Many of them have died strangely． This is the Curse of the Baskervilles． The black dog—The Hound of the Baskervilles—still walks on the moor at night．
   　“Well, Mr Holmes, what do you think of this story?” asked Dr Mortimer.
    　“I do not think it is a true story,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Why do you show me this story? Do you believe it?”
   　“Before Sir Charles Baskerville's death, I did not believe the story,” Dr Mortimer answered. “But Sir Charles believed the story. It worried him. He became ill and his heart was weak.”
   　“Why did he believe this story?” I asked.
   　“Because he saw the hound on the moor,” answered Dr Mortimer. “Or, he thought he saw it. When Sir Charles told me this story, I told him to take a holiday. I told him to go to London for a few weeks and forget all about the curse.”
    　“Did he take a holiday?” I asked.
    　“No,”said Dr Mortimer. “He planned to go to London the following Friday. But, on the Thursday evening, he went for a walk on the edge of the moor. And he never returned.”
     　“How did he die?” I asked.
     　“He died of a heart attack,”answered Dr Mortimer. “His servant came to fetch me. I found Sir Charles near the house, on the edge of the moor. He was running away from something when he died. I am sure of that. I think he was terrified of something.”
    　“Terrified?” asked Holmes. “What was he running away from?”
       “I looked at the ground where Sir Charles had walked. I saw his footprints,” said Dr Mortimer. “But there were other footprints on the ground. They were not the footprints of a man. They were the footprints of a gigantic8 hound!”
　　Holmes and I were surprised. This was a very strange story. I did not believe that Sir Charles Baskerville had been killed by a gigantic black dog. But I wanted to know the truth.
     　“Who else saw these footprints?” asked Sherlock Holmes. His bright eyes shone and he leant forward in his chair.
     　“No one else saw the footprints,”answered Dr Mortimer. “There was a lot of rain in the night. By morning, the footprints had been washed away.”
　　“How large were the footprints? Were they larger than the footprints of a sheepdog?”
     　“Yes, Mr Holmes, much larger. They were not the prints of an ordinary dog.”
    　“Also, you say that Sir Charles ran away from this dog? How do you know?” asked Holmes.
　　“The ground was soft,” answered Dr Mortimer. “I saw Sir Charles' footprints outside Baskerville Hall. His footprints were close together as he walked along a path at the edge of the moor. Then he stopped and waited by a wooden gate. After that his footprints changed —they became wide apart and deep. I am sure he began to run. He ran towards the house. I believe that something came from the moor. I believe he saw the Hound of the Baskervilles.”
　　“Yes, yes,” said Holmes, “but how do you know that Sir Charles waited by this wooden gate?”
　　“Because he smoked a cigar,” said Dr Mortimer. “I saw the white cigar ash on the ground.”
　　“Good,” said Holmes, “good —you are a detective.”
　　“Thank you,” said Dr Mortimer, with a smile.
　　“But you believe that Sir Charles was killed by a gigantic hound?”
　　“I know he ran away from something,” said Dr Mortimer. “I know I saw those strange footprints of a huge dog. But ...”  He looked at his watch. “... I am meeting Sir Henry Baskerville at Waterloo Station in an hour. Sir Henry is Sir Charles' nephew. He has come from Canada. Sir Charles had no children, so Sir Henry is now the owner of Baskerville Hall. And now I have a problem.”
     　“What is your problem?” asked Holmes.
     　“I believe that Sir Henry is in danger,” said Dr Mortimer. “Is it safe to take him to Baskerville Hall?”
     　“I must think,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Stay in London tonight. Come and see me again tomorrow morning. Please bring Sir Henry with you.”
     　“ I shall do so,” said Dr Mortimer. He stood up. “Now I must go to meet Sir Henry at Waterloo Station. Good day.”
     　When Dr Mortimer had left, Holmes said to me, “We have a problem here, Watson. There are three questions. What is the crime? Who did it? How was it done?”
　　The next morning, Dr Mortimer brought Sir Henry Baskerville to Baker Street. Sir Henry was about thirty years old. He was not tall, but he was broad and strong. He looked like a boxer.
   　“How do you do, Mr Holmes,” said Sir Henry. “"I arrived in London yesterday and two strange things have happened already.”
    　“Please sit down, Sir Henry,” said Holmes. “Tell me what has happened.”
　　“No one knows that I am staying at the Northumberland Hotel,” said Sir Henry. “But I have received a letter. Here is the letter. You see, the words are cut from a newspaper—except for the word 'moor'.”
 

 

 

    　“The words are cut from The Times newspaper,” said Holmes.
    　“But how did this person know where I am staying?” asked Sir Henry.
    　“I do not know,” said Holmes. “ But you said that two strange things have happened. What is the other strange thing?”
    　“I have lost a boot,” said Sir Henry. “Someone has stolen one of my boots at the hotel.”
    　“One of your boots?” asked Holmes.   “Someone took only one ?”
    　“Yes,” answered Sir Henry. “The boots are new. I bought them yesterday and I have never worn them. But why take only one?”
    　“That is a very good question,” said Holmes. “I would like to visit your hotel. Perhaps I shall find the answer.”
    　“Then, please join us for lunch,” said Sir Henry. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some other business. Shall we meet at two o'clock for lunch at the Northumberland Hotel?”
     　“We shall come at two,” said Holmes.
     　Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr Mortimer left the house and walked along Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes watched them through the window of his study.
     　“Quick, Watson, we must follow them,” said Holmes.
     　I put on my hat and followed Holmes into the street.“Why are we following them?” I asked in surprise.
    　“Because, my dear Watson, someone else is also following them,” said Holmes. “Look! There is the man. There in that cab9!”
     　I looked where Holmes was pointing. A horse-drawn cab was moving slowly along the street. A man with a black beard was sitting in the cab. He was watching Sir Henry and Dr Mortimer as they walked towards Oxford Street.
     　The man with the black beard turned round as Holmes pointed at him. He saw us and shouted to the cab driver, “Drive! Drive quickly!” The cab driver whipped the horse and the cab disappeared round a corner.
　　“I　 think　 we　 have the answer to one of our questions,” said Holmes. “That man with the black beard followed Sir Henry to the Northumberland Hotel. He is the man who sent the letter.”
                                                            We arrived at the Northumberland Hotel at ten minutes to two. Sir Henry Baskerville was talking to the hotel manager.
     　“Two boots in two days,” Sir Henry said loudly. “Two boots have disappeared from my room —one new boot and one old boot.”
     　“We shall look everywhere, sir,” said the manager. “We shall find your stolen boots.”
     　Sir Henry was silent while we ate lunch. He was angry about his stolen boots.
     　“Tell me, Mr Holmes,” said Dr Mortimer. “Is it safe for Sir Henry to go to Baskerville Hall?”
     　“It is safer than staying in London,” said Holmes. “Do you know that a man followed you this morning ?”
     　“Followed us!” said Dr Mortimer in surprise. “Who followed us?”
    　“A man with a thick black beard,” said Holmes. “Do you know a man with a black beard?”
    　“Yes, I do,” replied Dr Mortimer. “The servant at Baskerville Hall has a thick black beard. His name is Barrymore. I can't think why he is following us. But I am sure Sir Henry is in danger. It is better if Sir Henry stays here in London.”
    　“No. You are wrong,” said Holmes. “There are millions of people in London. We cannot watch them all. There are not as many people on Dartmoor. Everyone will notice someone who is a stranger.”
    　“But this man may not be a stranger,” said Dr Mortimer.
    　“I agree,” said Holmes. “That is why Sir Henry must not stay at Baskerville Hall alone. I myself will be busy in London, but my good friend Dr Watson will go with you to Dartmoor.”
   　  “Oh ... yes, of course,” I said, “I will certainly go to Dartmoor.”
   　  “Thank you, Dr Watson,” said Sir Henry. “You will be very welcome at Baskerville Hall.”
    　 “Good,”said Holmes. “Now, Sir Henry, tell me about the other boot which has been stolen.”
    　 “It is one of an old pair of boots,” said Sir Henry.
     　“How strange,” said Holmes. “And, tell me Sir Henry, if you die, who will become the owner of Baskerville Hall?”
     　“I don't know,” replied Sir Henry. “Sir Charles had two brothers—my father, who went to Canada, and a younger brother called Roger. But Roger never married and he died in South America. I have no living relatives. I don't know who will get all my money if I die today.”
     　 “And, may I ask, how much money do you have?”
      　“Certainly, Mr Holmes. Sir Charles left me a fortune of one million pounds,” said Sir Henry.
   　“Many men will murder their best friend for a million pounds,” said Holmes.
    　On Saturday morning, Sherlock Holmes came with me to Paddington Station.
    　“This is a dangerous business, Watson,” he said. “Stay near to Sir Henry. Do not let him walk on the moor alone at night.”
    　“Don't worry, Holmes,” I said. “I have brought my army revolver10.”
    　“Good,” said Holmes. “Write to me every day. Tell me what you see and hear. Tell me all the facts—everything.”
    　I said goodbye to Sherlock Holmes and met Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr Mortimer at the station. The train journey to Devon took three hours. We looked out of the windows at the green countryside. At last, we reached Dartmoor. Then the countryside changed from green to grey and we saw broken hills of black rock.
    　We got off the train at the small station in Grimpen Village. A driver was waiting with a carriage and horses to take us to Baskerville Hall. As we rode along the narrow country road, I saw a soldier on a horse. The soldier was carrying a gun and was watching the road.
    　I spoke to the driver. “Why is that soldier guarding the road? Is there some trouble?”
    　“Yes, sir,” the driver replied. “A prisoner has escaped from Dartmoor Prison. He's a very dangerous man. His name is Selden. He is a dangerous murderer.”
    　I looked across the empty moor. A cold wind blew and made me shiver11. Holmes believed that someone wanted to murder Sir Henry Baskerville. Now, another murderer was out on the moor. I felt that this lonely place was very dangerous. I wanted to go back to London.
    　There were thick trees all round Baskerville Hall. It looked like a castle. It stood alone on the empty moor.
    　We stopped outside Baskerville Hall. “I must leave you here,” said Dr Mortimer. “I have a lot of work to do. And my wife is waiting for me at home.”
     　“I hope you will come to dinner very soon,” said Sir Henry.
     　“I will,” said Dr Mortimer. “And if you ever need me, send for me at any time—day or night.” Then Dr Mortimer rode away in the carriage.
     　A man with a thick black beard and a pale face came out of the house. He greeted Sir Henry.
     　“Welcome to Baskerville Hall, sir. I am Barrymore. I have been a servant here for many years. My wife and I have prepared the house for you. Shall I show you around the house?”
     　“Yes please, Barrymore,” said Sir Henry. “This is Dr Watson. He will be my guest for a few days.”
     　“Very good, sir,” said Barrymore. He took our cases into the house.
     　I looked carefully at Barrymore. Was he the man with a black beard who had followed Sir Henry in London? I was not sure.
     　Mr and Mrs Barrymore had looked after the house well. Everything was in order. But the house was a cold and lonely place. There was trouble here.
   　 That night I wrote a letter to Sherlock Holmes. I told him all that I had seen and heard. While I was writing, I heard a sound—a woman crying. The only woman in the house was Mrs Barrymore. I wondered why she was so unhappy.
    　At breakfast next morning, I asked Sir Henry, "Did you hear a woman crying in the night?"
    　“I heard a sound like crying,” said Sir Henry. “But I thought it was the wind on the moor.”
    　Sir Henry had many papers to read. I left him sitting at his desk and went for a walk on the moor.
   　 I walked for two or three miles across the empty moor. Then, behind me, I heard a voice call, “Dr Watson!” I looked round. I thought it was Dr Mortimer. But I saw a stranger walking towards me.      
    　“My name is Stapleton,” said the man. “How do you do, Dr Watson. I saw Dr Mortimer this morning and he told me your name. I have heard about you. You are the friend of the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?”
    　“Yes, Mr Stapleton, I am,” I said.
    　“And is Mr Holmes staying at Baskerville Hall too?” asked Stapleton. “Is he interested in Dartmoor?”
   　“Mr Holmes is in London,” I said. “He is a busy man.”
　　“Of course,”said Stapleton. “Please come and see my house. It's very near here. I live with my sister.”
   　 Stapleton led me along a narrow path across a wide, flat part of the moor. The land around us was a strange, green colour. We walked towards a hill of grey rock.
    　“Be very careful, Dr Watson,” said Stapleton. “Stay on the path. We are in the Great Grimpen Mire12. There is a sea of soft mud underneath13 the grass. If you fall in, you will never get out again.”
    　“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “But why do you live here? It is a dangerous and lonely place.”
    　“I am a naturalist. I study nature,” said Stapleton. “There are many interesting flowers and birds on the Great Grimpen Mire. And there are some unusual animals on Dartmoor.”
    　At that moment we heard a strange sound. It was a deep howling sound—the sound of a large dog. It came from some distance away.
　　“Stapleton! Is that the sound of a dog?” I asked.
　　“It 　is　 only the sound of the wind,” said Stapleton. “The wind blows through the rocks and makes strange sounds. But here is my house—Merripit House on the moor.” He pointed to the long, low farmhouse which we could see near the hill. “And my sister is coming to meet us.”
     　Miss Stapleton was a very attractive14 woman. She was slim15 and tall, with beautiful dark eyes. I thought she looked very different from her brother. She had dark hair, but her brother had fair hair. They were both about thirty years old. Stapleton looked a little older. He was a small, thin, clean-shaven16 man, with a long face.
    　“How do you do, Miss Stapleton,” I said. “Your brother has told me about the Great Grimpen Mire and the unusual flowers and birds. Did you hear that strange sound a moment ago? Does the wind often make this sound?”
    　“I heard nothing,” Miss Stapleton said quickly. She looked at her brother and I saw fear in her eyes.
    　Her brother looked at her angrily. “Let us show Dr Watson our house,” he said.
    　I stayed for a short time. Stapleton showed me his collection of flowers and butterflies.
    　“I will come to Baskerville Hall to visit Sir Henry this afternoon,” said Stapleton. “Will you tell him?”
    　“Of course,” I replied. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go back to Baskerville Hall. I hope to see you again soon.”
     　“Stay on the path,” said Stapleton. “Remember the Great Grimpen Mire. Many men have died in it.”
　　Miss Stapleton walked outside with me. She spoke quickly, in a quiet voice. “Dr Watson, I want to tell you about the strange sound you heard. The people here say that it is the sound of the Hound of the Baskervilles. They say it killed Sir Charles and now it will kill Sir Henry. But,  please, do not tell my brother that I spoke to you. Now, go back to London. Go back today!”
　　She went into the house quickly. I walked along the narrow path slowly,　thinking about what she had said.                                    —to be continued