above the trees. The driver pointed with his whip to Baskerville Hall.
The lodge gates were a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron,
with weather-beaten pillars, blotched with lichens, and surmounted
by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of
black granite & bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new
building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South
African gold. We passed through the sombre tunnel of the avenue and
Sir Henry shuddered. The house itself was dark & heavy-windowed,
with high chimneys.
We were greeted by Barrymore & his wife.  He was a remarkable
looking man, tall, handsome, with a square black beard & pale,
distinguished faetures.  Mortimer left us in their care and
returned to his own home in the wagonette. 
