heard it again, nearer, louder, more urgent than before. I knew
from the thrill in Holme's voice that he, the man of iron, was
shaken to the soul.
Again the agonized cry swept through the silent night, louder &
much nearer than ever. And a new sound mingled with it, a deep,
muttered rumble, musical & yet menacing, rising & falling like the 
low, constant murmur of the sea.
It was the hound.
"Come, Watson, come!" cried Holmes. "Great heavens, if we are too
late!"
We ran swiftly over the moor, but now there came a last despairing
yell, and then a dull, heavy thud. We halted & listened. Not another
sound broke the heavy silence of the windless night. Holmes put
