Tuesday, 16th October

A dull & foggy day with a drizzle of rain. The house is banked in with
rolling clouds. It is melancholy outside & in. The baronet is in a black
reaction after the excitements of the night. I have a feeling of
impending danger, which is the more terrible because I am unable to define
it.
Consider the long sequence of incidents which have all pointed to some
sinister influence which is at work around us: the death of the last
tenant, fulfilling the family legend; reports of a strange creature of
the moor; the distant baying of a hound that twice I have heard. If I
have one quality upon earth, it is common sense, and nothing will 
persuade me to believe in a spectral hound which leaves material
