Chapter 15. A Retrospection

by Arthur Conan Doyle

It was the end of November, and on a chilly, foggy night, Holmes and I sat on either side of a roaring fire in our sitting room on Baker Street. Since our unfortunate trip to Devonshire, Holmes had been immersed in two significant cases. In the first, he had exposed the shocking behavior of Colonel Upwood in connection with the infamous card scandal at the Nonpareil Club. In the second, he had defended the unfortunate Madame Montpensier against murder charges related to the death of her stepdaughter, Mlle. Carére, who, as you may recall, was found alive and married in New York six months later. My friend was in high spirits, pleased with the success of these challenging cases, which encouraged me to bring up the details of the Baskerville mystery. I had been waiting for the right moment, knowing that he wouldn’t let one case interfere with another, and that his sharp, logical mind wouldn’t dwell on past events while focused on the present.

Sir Henry and Dr. Mortimer were in London, preparing for a long trip that had been recommended to help restore Sir Henry’s frayed nerves. They had visited us that very afternoon, so it was only natural that the topic would come up.

“The entire sequence of events,” Holmes began, “from Stapleton’s perspective was straightforward and clear. But for us, without knowing his motives and only piecing together bits of information, it seemed incredibly complicated. I’ve had two conversations with Mrs. Stapleton, and the case is now so thoroughly understood that I don’t believe there’s anything left for us to uncover. You’ll find some notes on the matter under the heading B in my indexed list of cases.”

“Could you give me a brief overview of the events from memory?” I asked.

“Of course, but I can’t promise to recall every detail. Intense focus has a way of erasing what’s come before. A barrister who knows his case inside and out can find that after a week or two in court, he’s forgotten everything he once knew. Each case tends to push the last one out of my mind, and Mlle. Carére has blurred my memories of Baskerville Hall. Tomorrow, another puzzle may come my way, and I’ll forget about the lovely French lady and the despicable Upwood. But regarding the hound case, I’ll share what I can, and you can remind me if I miss anything.

“My investigations confirm without a doubt that the family portrait was accurate, and that this man was indeed a Baskerville. He was the son of Rodger Baskerville, Sir Charles’s younger brother, who fled to South America with a dubious reputation and was thought to have died unmarried. In reality, he did marry and had a child, this man, whose name is the same as his father’s. He wed Beryl Garcia, a beauty from Costa Rica, and after embezzling a significant amount of public funds, he changed his name to Vandeleur and escaped to England, where he opened a school in East Yorkshire. His decision to pursue this line of work stemmed from an acquaintance he made with a consumptive tutor during his voyage home, using the man’s skills to help his venture succeed. Unfortunately, the tutor died, and the school, which had started off well, fell into disgrace. The Vandeleurs found it convenient to adopt the name Stapleton, and he brought what was left of his fortune, his future plans, and his passion for entomology to southern England. I discovered at the British Museum that he was a recognized expert in the field, and the name Vandeleur is permanently associated with a particular moth he was the first to describe during his time in Yorkshire.”

Now we arrive at the part of his life that has captivated us so intensely. It was clear that he had done his research and discovered that only two lives stood between him and a valuable estate. When he traveled to Devonshire, his plans were, I believe, quite vague, but his intentions were sinister from the start, as evidenced by the way he brought his wife along, pretending she was his sister. The idea of using her as bait was already forming in his mind, even if he wasn’t entirely sure how to execute his scheme. He intended to claim the estate for himself, willing to use any means necessary and take any risks to achieve that goal.

His first move was to settle as close to his ancestral home as possible, and his second was to befriend Sir Charles Baskerville and the neighbors.

The baronet himself shared stories about the family hound, unknowingly paving the way for his own demise. Stapleton, as I will continue to refer to him, was aware that the old man had a weak heart and that a shock could easily kill him. He had learned this from Dr. Mortimer. He also knew that Sir Charles was superstitious and took the grim legend of the hound very seriously. His clever mind quickly devised a plan to bring about the baronet’s death while ensuring that the blame would be nearly impossible to pin on him.

Once he had conceived the idea, he executed it with remarkable skill. An ordinary schemer might have been satisfied with simply using a savage dog, but Stapleton’s brilliance lay in his use of artificial means to make the creature appear even more terrifying. He purchased the fiercest dog he could find from Ross and Mangles, dealers on Fulham Road in London. After bringing it down by the North Devon line, he walked a considerable distance over the moor to avoid drawing attention. Having learned to navigate the Grimpen Mire during his insect hunts, he found a safe hiding place for the beast. There, he kept it hidden, waiting for the right moment.

But that moment took a while to arrive. The old gentleman wouldn’t be lured outside his grounds at night. Stapleton tried several times to entice him with the hound, but to no avail. During these failed attempts, he and his ally were spotted by local peasants, which only added to the legend of the demon dog. He had hoped that his wife would help him ensnare Sir Charles, but she proved unexpectedly strong-willed. She refused to manipulate the old gentleman into a romantic entanglement that could lead to his downfall. Threats and even, regrettably, violence did nothing to sway her. For a time, Stapleton found himself at a standstill.

He eventually found a way out of his predicament when Sir Charles, who had developed a friendship with him, made him the intermediary for his charity towards a distressed woman named Mrs. Laura Lyons. By presenting himself as a single man, he gained complete influence over her, leading her to believe that he would marry her if she obtained a divorce from her husband.

His plans were suddenly accelerated when he learned that Sir Charles was about to leave the Hall on Dr. Mortimer’s advice, which he pretended to support. He needed to act quickly, or his victim might slip from his grasp. He pressured Mrs. Lyons to write a letter, begging the old man for a meeting the evening before his departure for London. Then, using a clever argument, he convinced her not to go, creating the opportunity he had been waiting for.

That evening, as he drove back from Coombe Tracey, he managed to retrieve his hound, apply his sinister paint to it, and bring the beast to the gate where he expected to find the old gentleman waiting. The dog, spurred on by its master, leaped over the wicket gate and chased after the unfortunate baronet, who fled down the yew alley, screaming. In that dark passage, it must have been a terrifying sight to see that enormous black creature, with its fiery jaws and glowing eyes, pursuing its prey.

Sir Charles collapsed at the end of the alley, succumbing to a heart attack brought on by fear. The hound had stayed on the grassy edge while the baronet ran down the path, leaving only his tracks behind. When the creature approached him, it likely sniffed at his lifeless body before retreating. It was then that it left the paw print observed by Dr. Mortimer. The hound was called back and hurried away to its lair in the Grimpen Mire, leaving behind a mystery that puzzled the authorities, alarmed the local community, and ultimately brought the case to our attention.

“So much for the death of Sir Charles Baskerville. You can see the devilish cleverness behind it; it would be nearly impossible to build a case against the actual murderer. His only accomplice was someone who could never betray him, and the bizarre, unimaginable nature of the plan only made it more effective. Both women involved in the case, Mrs. Stapleton and Mrs. Laura Lyons, held strong suspicions about Stapleton. Mrs. Stapleton was aware of her husband’s intentions toward the old man and knew about the existence of the hound. Mrs. Lyons, on the other hand, was completely in the dark about these matters but was struck by the timing of the death, which coincided with an appointment that only Stapleton knew about. Yet, both women were under his influence, and he had nothing to fear from them. He had successfully completed the first part of his plan, but the more challenging tasks still lay ahead.

“It’s possible that Stapleton didn’t know about the heir in Canada. Regardless, he would soon learn from his friend Dr. Mortimer all the details about Henry Baskerville’s arrival. Stapleton’s first thought was that this young man from Canada might meet his end in London without ever making it to Devonshire. He had lost trust in his wife ever since she refused to help him set a trap for the old man, and he couldn’t risk losing his hold over her. That’s why he brought her to London with him. They stayed at the Mexborough Private Hotel on Craven Street, which was one of the places my agent visited in search of evidence. There, he kept his wife confined to her room while he, disguised with a beard, followed Dr. Mortimer to Baker Street and then to the station and the Northumberland Hotel. His wife had some idea of his plans, but her fear of him—rooted in his brutal treatment—prevented her from warning the man she knew was in danger. If Stapleton found her letter, her life would be at risk. Eventually, as we know, she resorted to cutting out words to form a message and addressed the letter in a disguised handwriting. It reached the baronet and gave him his first warning of the danger he faced.

“It was crucial for Stapleton to obtain a piece of Sir Henry’s clothing so that, if he needed to use the dog, he would have a way to track him. With his usual boldness and quick thinking, he set about this immediately, and it’s clear he bribed the hotel staff to assist him. However, by chance, the first boot he got was new and therefore useless for his purpose. He returned it and got another one—an important detail, as it confirmed to me that we were indeed dealing with a real hound; no other explanation could account for his eagerness to acquire an old boot and his indifference toward a new one. The more bizarre and grotesque an event is, the more it deserves careful examination, and the very aspect that seems to complicate a case is often the one that can clarify it when properly analyzed.

“Then, the next morning, our friends visited us, always shadowed by Stapleton in the cab. Based on his knowledge of our rooms and my appearance, as well as his overall behavior, I suspect that Stapleton’s criminal activities extend far beyond this single Baskerville case. It’s worth noting that in the last three years, there have been four significant burglaries in the west country, none of which led to any arrests. The most recent, at Folkestone Court in May, was particularly notable for the cold-blooded shooting of a page who caught the masked burglar in the act. I have no doubt that Stapleton has been replenishing his dwindling resources through such crimes and that he has been a desperate and dangerous man for years.

“We saw his resourcefulness that morning when he managed to slip away from us so skillfully, as well as his audacity in sending my own name back to me through the cab driver. From that moment, he realized I had taken over the case in London, meaning he had no chance there. He returned to Dartmoor and waited for the baronet’s arrival.”

“One moment!” I interjected. “You’ve accurately described the sequence of events, but there’s one thing you haven’t explained. What happened to the hound while its master was in London?”

"I’ve given this matter some thought, and it’s definitely important. There’s no doubt that Stapleton had someone he confided in, though it’s unlikely he shared all his plans with that person. There was an old servant at Merripit House named Anthony. His connection to the Stapletons goes back several years, all the way to their school days, so he must have known that they were actually husband and wife. This man has vanished and fled the country. It’s worth noting that Anthony isn’t a common name in England, while Antonio is quite common in Spanish-speaking countries. Like Mrs. Stapleton, he spoke good English but had a strange lisp. I’ve seen this old man cross the Grimpen Mire along the path that Stapleton had marked out. It’s very likely that in his master’s absence, he was the one taking care of the hound, even if he didn’t know the true purpose of the creature.

"The Stapletons then moved to Devonshire, and soon after, Sir Henry and you followed them. Now, let me explain where I stood at that time. You might remember that when I examined the paper with the printed words, I looked closely for the watermark. Holding it just inches from my eyes, I noticed a faint scent of white jasmine. There are seventy-five perfumes that a criminal expert must be able to identify, and I’ve seen cases hinge on the quick recognition of these scents. This particular fragrance hinted at the presence of a woman, and my thoughts immediately turned to the Stapletons. By then, I was certain about the hound and had already guessed at the criminal before we even went to the west country.

"My plan was to keep an eye on Stapleton. However, I knew I couldn’t do that while being with you, as he would be on high alert. So, I deceived everyone, including you, and made my way down secretly while I was supposed to be in London. My hardships weren’t as severe as you might think, but I didn’t let those minor details interfere with the investigation. I mostly stayed in Coombe Tracey and only used the hut on the moor when I needed to be close to the action. Cartwright came with me, and in his disguise as a local boy, he was a great help. I relied on him for food and clean clothes. While I was watching Stapleton, Cartwright often kept an eye on you, allowing me to stay informed about everything.

"I’ve already mentioned that your reports reached me quickly, forwarded from Baker Street to Coombe Tracey. They were incredibly useful, especially that one piece of Stapleton’s biography that turned out to be true. I was able to confirm the identities of both the man and the woman, and I finally understood the whole situation. The case had become more complicated due to the escaped convict and his connection to the Barrymores. You cleared that up effectively, although I had already come to similar conclusions based on my own observations.

"By the time you found me on the moor, I had a complete grasp of the entire situation, but I still didn’t have a case that could go to trial. Even Stapleton’s attack on Sir Henry that night, which resulted in the unfortunate convict’s death, didn’t help us prove murder against him. It seemed our only option was to catch him in the act, and to do that, we had to use Sir Henry as bait, alone and seemingly unprotected. We went ahead with this plan, and while it caused Sir Henry a severe shock, we managed to build our case and push Stapleton toward his downfall. I must admit, it’s a regret of mine that Sir Henry had to face such danger, but we couldn’t have anticipated the terrifying sight the beast would present, nor could we foresee the fog that allowed it to strike so suddenly. We achieved our goal, but it came at a cost that both the specialist and Dr. Mortimer assure me will only be temporary. A long journey should help our friend recover, not just from his frayed nerves but also from his wounded heart. His feelings for the lady were deep and genuine, and the saddest part of this entire dark affair for him was that he had been deceived by her."

It’s time to clarify the role she played in everything that happened. There’s no doubt that Stapleton had a powerful influence over her—whether it was love, fear, or a mix of both, it was undeniably effective. Under his command, she agreed to pretend to be his sister, but he pushed the limits of his control when he tried to involve her directly in murder. She was willing to warn Sir Henry as much as she could without putting her husband at risk, and she made several attempts to do just that.

Stapleton was also capable of jealousy. When he saw Sir Henry showing interest in her, even though it was part of his own plan, he couldn’t help but react with a passionate outburst that revealed the fiery spirit he usually kept hidden. By encouraging their closeness, he ensured that Sir Henry would visit Merripit House often, and eventually, he would get the chance he was looking for.

However, on the day everything came to a head, his wife suddenly turned against him. She had learned about the convict's death and knew that the hound was being kept in the outhouse for Sir Henry’s dinner. She confronted her husband about his intentions, leading to a furious argument where he revealed for the first time that she had a rival for his affection. In an instant, her loyalty shifted to bitter hatred, and he realized she would betray him. To prevent her from warning Sir Henry, he tied her up, hoping that when the baronet’s death was attributed to his family’s curse, she would accept the reality and keep quiet about what she knew. I suspect he miscalculated; a woman of Spanish blood doesn’t forgive such betrayals easily.

And now, my dear Watson, without my notes, I can’t provide a more detailed account of this strange case. I believe everything essential has been explained.

“He couldn’t expect to scare Sir Henry to death like he did with the old uncle and his phantom hound.”

“The creature was vicious and half-starved. If it didn’t frighten its victim to death, it would at least paralyze any resistance.”

“That’s true. But there’s one major issue left. If Stapleton inherited, how could he explain that he had been living under an assumed name so close to the estate? How could he claim it without raising suspicion?”

“That’s a significant challenge, and I’m afraid you’re asking too much for me to solve it. The past and present are within my grasp, but predicting what a man might do in the future is much harder. Mrs. Stapleton has heard her husband discuss this problem several times. There were three possible paths. He could claim the property from South America, establish his identity with British authorities there, and secure the fortune without ever coming back to England. Alternatively, he could adopt a disguise for the short time he needed to be in London. Or, he could provide an accomplice with the necessary documents, allowing that person to claim the inheritance while he retained a share of the income. Given what we know of him, he would have found a way to navigate this issue.

Now, my dear Watson, we’ve put in weeks of hard work, and for one evening, I think it’s time to shift our focus to something more enjoyable. I have tickets for *Les Huguenots*. Have you heard the De Reszkes? Would you mind being ready in half an hour? We can stop at Marcini’s for a little dinner on the way.”

THE END