orming him of his good
fortune."

Dr. Mortimer refolded his paper and replaced it in his pocket.

"Those are the public facts, Mr. Holmes, in connection with the
death of Sir Charles Baskerville."

"I must thank you," said Sherlock Holmes, "for calling my
attention to a case which certainly presents some features of
interest. I had observed some newspaper comment at the time, but
I was exceedingly preoccupied by that little affair of the
Vatican cameos, and in my anxiety to oblige the Pope I lost touch
with several interesting English cases. This article, you say,
contains all the public facts?"

"It does."

"Then let me have the private ones." He leaned back, put his
finger-tips together, and assumed his most impassive and judicial
expression.

"In doing so," said Dr. Mortimer, who had begun to show signs of
some strong emotion, "I am telling that which I have not confided
to anyone. My motive for withholding it from the coroner's
inquiry is that a man of science shrinks from placing himself in
the public position of seeming to indorse a popular superstition.
I had the further motive that Baskerville Hall, as the paper
says, would certainly remain untenanted if anything were done to
increase its already rather grim reputation. For both these
reasons I thought that I was justified in telling rather less
than I knew, since no practical good could result from it, but
with you there is no reason why I should not be perfectly frank.

"The moor is very sparsely inhabited, and those who live near
each other are thrown very much together. For this reason I saw a
good deal of Sir Charles Baskerville. With the exception of Mr.
Frankland, of Lafter Hall, and Mr. Stapleton, the naturalist,
there are no other men of education within many miles. Sir
Charles was a retiring man, but the chance of his illness brought
us together, and a community of interests in science kept us so.
He had brought back much scientific information from South
Africa, and many a charming evening we have spent together
discussing the comparative anatomy of the Bushman and the
Hottentot.

"Within the last few months it became increasingly plain to me
that Sir Charles's nervous system was strained to the breaking
point. He had taken this legend which I have read you exceedingly
to heart--so much so that, although he would walk in his own
grounds, nothing would induce him to go out upon the moor at
night. Incredible as it may appear to you, Mr. Ho