The Hound of the Baskervilles
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
p. 53 – “We talked little, and I for one was glad when the meal was over and we were able to retire into the modern billiard room and smoke a cigarette.”
Forgive Dr. Watson for the cigarettes. It’s sometime in the 1890s, and even a modern medical man like him doesn’t yet understand that smoking is bad for you. Besides, he’s under a lot of stress.
This time, “we” doesn’t mean Watson and Sherlock Holmes, or Watson and one of his wives. No, it’s Watson and Sir Henry Baskerville, who used to be a farmer in western Canada until, not long ago, he inherited his uncle’s wealth and the family mansion. Maybe the family curse, too.
Sherlock Holmes is tied up with an important case, so Holmes sent Watson with strict instructions to keep a careful eye on Sir Henry all the time, and to send Holmes regular detailed reports. Sir Henry and the doctor have just arrived at Baskerville Hall; already the threatening mood of the place is taking hold.
The Baskerville legend says that the family is pursued by a huge mysterious, murderous dog – and has been for two hundred years. Sir Henry’s uncle seems to have been running in terror from…something…until he collapsed and died of a heart attack. And nearby, investigators found the footprints of a gigantic hound.
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What’s Third Sentence Thursday? The idea is to open your current book to a random page and post the third complete sentence on the page, with a short explanation.
A Number of Things 