I could not doubt that this was the Miss Stapleton of whomI had been told， since ladies of any sort must be few upon themoor， and I remembered that I had heard someone describe heras being a beauty. The woman who approached me was certainlythat， and of a most uncommon type. There could not have beena greater contrast between brother and sister， for Stapleton wasneutral tinted， with light hair and gray eyes， while she was darkerthan any brunette whom I have seen in England—slim， elegant，and tall. She had a proud， finely cut face， so regular that it mighthave seemed impassive were it not for the sensitive mouth andthe beautiful dark， eager eyes. With her perfect figure and elegantdress she was， indeed， a strange apparition upon a lonely moorlandpath. Her eyes were on her brother as I turned， and then shequickened her pace towards me. I had raised my hat and was aboutto make some explanatory remark， when her own words turned allmy thoughts into a new channel.
“Go back！” she said. “Go straight back to London， instantly.”
I could only stare at her in stupid surprise. Her eyes blazed atme， and she tapped the ground impatiently with her foot.
“Why should I go back？” I asked.
“I cannot explain.” She spoke in a low， eager voice， with acurious lisp in her utterance. “But for God’s sake do what I askyou. Go back and never set foot upon the moor again.”
“But I have only just come.”
“Man， man！” she cried. “Can you not tell when a warning is foryour own good？ Go back to London！ Start to-night！ Get awayfrom this place at all costs！ Hush， my brother is coming！ Not aword of what I have said. Would you mind getting that orchid forme among the mares-tails yonder？ We are very rich in orchids onthe moor， though， of course， you are rather late to see the beautiesof the place.”
Stapleton had abandoned the chase and came back to usbreathing hard and flushed with his exertions.
“Halloa， Beryl！” said he， and it seemed to me that the tone of hisgreeting was not altogether a cordial one.
“Well， Jack， you are very hot.”
“Yes， I was chasing a Cyclopides. He is very rare and seldomfound in the late autumn. What a pity that I should have missedhim！” He spoke unconcernedly， but his small light eyes glancedincessantly from the girl to me.
“You have introduced yourselves， I can see.”
“Yes. I was telling Sir Henry that it was rather late for him tosee the true beauties of the moor.”
“Why， who do you think this is？”
“I imagine that it must be Sir Henry Baskerville.”
“No， no，” said I. “Only a humble commoner， but his friend. Myname is Dr. Watson.”
A flush of vexation passed over her expressive face. “We havebeen talking at cross purposes，” said she.
“Why， you had not very much time for talk，” her brotherremarked with the same questioning eyes.
“I talked as if Dr. Watson were a resident instead of beingmerely a visitor，” said she. “It cannot much matter to him whetherit is early or late for the orchids. But you will come on， will younot， and see Merripit House？”
A short walk brought us to it， a bleak moorland house， oncethe farm of some grazier in the old prosperous days， but nowput into repair and turned into a modern dwelling. An orchardsurrounded it， but the trees， as is usual upon the moor， werestunted and nipped， and the effect of the whole place was meanand melancholy. We were admitted by a strange， wizened， rustycoatedold manservant， who seemed in keeping with the house.
Inside， however， there were large rooms furnished with anelegance in which I seemed to recognize the taste of the lady. AsI looked from their windows at the interminable granite-fleckedmoor rolling unbroken to the farthest horizon I could not butmarvel at what could have brought this highly educated man andthis beautiful woman to live in such a place.
“Queer spot to choose， is it not？” said he as if in answer to mythought. “And yet we manage to make ourselves fairly happy， dowe not， Beryl？”
“Quite happy，” said she， but there was no ring of conviction inher words.
“I had a school，” said Stapleton. “It was in the north country.
The work to a man of my temperament was mechanical anduninteresting， but the privilege of living with youth， of helping tomould those young minds， and of impressing them with one’s owncharacter and ideals， was very dear to me. However， the fates wereagainst us. A serious epidemic broke out in the school and threeof the boys died. It never recovered from the blow， and much ofmy capital was irretrievably swallowed up. And yet， if it were notfor the loss of the charming companionship of the boys， I couldrejoice over my own misfortune， for， with my strong tastes forbotany and zoology， I find an unlimited field of work here， and mysister is as devoted to Nature as I am. All this， Dr. Watson， hasbeen brought upon your head by your expression as you surveyedthe moor out of our window.”
“It certainly did cross my mind that it might be a little dull—lessfor you； perhaps， than for your sister.”
“No， no， I am never dull，” said she quickly.
“We have books， we have our studies， and we have interestingneighbours. Dr. Mortimer is a most learned man in his own line.
Poor Sir Charles was also an admirable companion. We knewhim well， and miss him more than I can tell. Do you think thatI should intrude if I were to call this afternoon and make theacquaintance of Sir Henry？”
“I am sure that he would be delighted.”
“Then perhaps you would mention that I propose to do so. Wemay in our humble way do something to make things more easyfor him until he becomes accustomed to his new surroundings.
Will you come upstairs， Dr. Watson， and inspect my collection ofLepidoptera？ I think it is the most complete one in the south-westof England. By the time that you have looked through them lunchwill be almost ready.”
