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Short Stories (story)

The Hound of the Baskervilles (houn)

48594    'Come, Watson, come!
48595    Great heavens, if we are too late!'
48596    He had started running swiftly over the moor, and I had followed at his heels.
48597    But now from somewhere among the broken ground immediately in front of us there came one last despairing yell, and then a dull, heavy thud.
48598    We halted and listened.
48599    Not another sound broke the heavy silence of the windless night.
48600    I saw Holmes put his hand to his forehead, like a man distracted.
48601    He stamped his feet upon the ground.
48602    'He has beaten us, Watson.
48603    We are too late.'
48604    'No, no, surely not!'
48605    'Fool that I was to hold my hand.
48606    And you, Watson, see what comes of abandoning your charge!
48607    But, by Heaven, if the worst has happened, we'll avenge him!'
48608    Blindly we ran through the gloom, blundering against boulders, forcing our way through gorse bushes, panting up hills and rushing down slopes, heading always in the direction whence those dreadful sounds had come.

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