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Short Stories (story)

The Hound of the Baskervilles (houn)

47785    'I have a hunting-crop.'
47786    'We must close in on him rapidly, for he is said to be a desperate fellow.
47787    We shall take him by surprise and have him at our mercy before he can resist.'
47788    'I say, Watson,' said the baronet, 'what would Holmes say to this?
47789    How about that hour of darkness in which the power of evil is exalted?'
47790    As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vast gloom of the moor that strange cry which I had already heard upon the borders of the great Grimpen Mire.
47791    It came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away.
47792    Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild, and menacing.
47793    The baronet caught my sleeve, and his face glimmered white through the darkness.
47794    'Good heavens, what's that, Watson?'
47795    'I don't know.
47796    It's a sound they have on the moor.
47797    I heard it once before.'
47798    It died away, and an absolute silence closed in upon us.
47799    We stood straining our ears, but nothing came.

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