A figure was approaching us over the moor, and I saw the dull red
glow of a cigar. The moon shone upon him, and I could distinguish
the dapper shape and jaunty walk of the naturalist. He stopped
when he saw us, and then came on again.

"Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last man
that I should have expected to see out on the moor at this time
of night. But, dear me, what's this? Somebody hurt? Not--don't
tell me that it is our friend Sir Henry!" He hurried past me and
stooped over the dead man. I heard a sharp intake of his breath
and the cigar fell from his fingers.

"Who--who's this?" he stammered.

"It is Selden, the man who escaped from Princetown."

Stapleton turned a ghastly face upon us, but by a supreme effort
he had overcome his amazement and his disappointment. He looked
sharply from Holmes to me.

"Dear me! What a very shocking affair! How did he die?"

"He appears to have broken his neck by falling over these rocks.
My friend and I were strolling on the moor when we heard a cry."

"I heard a cry also. That was what brought me out. I was uneasy
about Sir Henry."

"Why about Sir Henry in particular?" I could not help asking.

"Because I had suggested that he should come over. When he did
not come I was surprised, and I naturally became alarmed for his
safety when I heard cries upon the moor. By the way"--his eyes
darted again from my face to Holmes's--"did you hear anything
else besides a cry?"

"No," said Holmes; "did you?"

"No."

"What do you mean, then?"

"Oh, you know the stories that the peasants tell about a phantom
hound, and so on. It is said to be heard at night upon the moor.
I was wondering if there were any evidence of such a sound
to-night."

"We heard nothing of the kind," said I.

"And what is your theory of this poor fellow's death?"

"I have no doubt that anxiety and exposure have driven him off
his head. He has rushed about the moor in a crazy state and
eventually fallen over here and broken his neck."

"That seems the most reasonable theory," said Stapleton, and he
gave a sigh which I took to indicate his relief. "What do you
think about it, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

My friend bowed his compliments.

"You are quick at identification," said he.

"We have been expecting you in these parts since Dr. Watson came
down. You are in time to see a tragedy."

"Yes, indeed. I have no doubt that my friend's explanation will
cover the facts. I will take an