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Short Stories (story)

The Hound of the Baskervilles (houn)

47662    Then the baronet gently opened his door, and we set out in pursuit.
47663    Already our man had gone round the gallery, and the corridor was all in darkness.
47664    Softly we stole along until we had come into the other wing.
47665    We were just in time to catch a glimpse of the tall, black-bearded figure, his shoulders rounded, as he tip-toed down the passage.
47666    Then he passed through the same door as before, and the light of the candle framed it in the darkness and shot one single yellow beam across the gloom of the corridor.
47667    We shuffled cautiously towards it, trying every plank before we dared to put our whole weight upon it.
47668    We had taken the precaution of leaving our boots behind us, but, even so, the old boards snapped and creaked beneath our tread.
47669    Sometimes it seemed impossible that he should fail to hear our approach.
47670    However, the man is fortunately rather deaf, and he was entirely preoccupied in that which he was doing.
47671    When at last we reached the door and peeped through we found him crouching at the window, candle in hand, his white, intent face pressed against the pane, exactly as I had seen him two nights before.
47672    We had arranged no plan of campaign, but the baronet is a man to whom the most direct way is always the most natural.
47673    He walked into the room, and as he did so Barrymore sprang up from the window with a sharp hiss of his breath, and stood, livid and trembling, before us.
47674    His dark eyes, glaring out of the white mask of his face, were full of horror and astonishment as he gazed from Sir Henry to me.
47675    'What are you doing here, Barrymore?'
47676    'Nothing, sir.'

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