when he happened to see a real dog persuing him.
I was caught by surprise when Stapleton asked if Sherlock Holmes had
come to any other conclusions, but rather flattered when he admitted
that my own records of Holmes's achievements had made us both
celebrated even in Devonshire. I said that Holmes was busy in London and
adroitly declined Stapleon's offer of help. He commended my discretion
and invited me to visit Merripit House and meet his sister.
The house was only a moderate walk along a narrow grassy path that
struck off from the road and wound across the moor, past an old granite
quarry. On the way, Stapleton spoke warmly of the moor, as if he knew
it well, though he said he had only been there two years, arriving
shortly after Sir Charles settled. He pointed out a great plain to
the north, with green spots scattered thickly over it, which, he said,
