巴斯克维尔的猎犬
The Hound of the Baskervillesis
阿瑟·柯南·道尔
Arthur Conan Doyle
The Hound of the Baskervillesis the third of the crime novels written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle featuring the detective Sherlock Holmes.It is originally serialized inThe Strand Magazinefrom August 1901 to April 1902.
In 2003, the book was listed as number 128 of 200 on the BBC’s The Big Read poll of the UK’s “best-loved novel.” In 1999, it was listed as the top Holmes novel, with a perfect rating from Sherlockian scholars of 100.
The country doctor had come to 221B Baker Street, the famous lodgings of Sherlock Holmes, with an eerie — the legend of the Hound of the Baskervilles, the devil-beast that haunted the lonely moors around the Baskervilles’ ancestral home. The tale warns the descendants of that ancient family never to venture out on the moor. But Sir Charles Baskerville is now dead — and the footprints of a giant hound are found near his body. Will the new heir of the Baskervilles meet the same dreadful fate? Sherlock Holmes and his faithful friend Dr. Watson are faced with their most terrifying case in this wonderful classic of masterful detection and bone-chilling suspense.
Dartmoor. A wild, wet place in the south-west of England. A place where it is easy to get lost, and to fall into the soft green earth which can pull the strongest man down to his death. A man is running for his life. Behind him comes an enormous dog - a dog from his worst dreams, a dog from hell. Between him and a terrible death stands only one person - the greatest detective of all time, Sherlock Holmes.
阿瑟·柯南·道尔（Arthur Conan Doyle，1859~1930），生于苏格兰爱丁堡，因塑造了成功的侦探人物──夏洛克·福尔摩斯而成为侦探小说历史上重要的作家。堪称侦探悬疑小说的鼻祖。代表作有《福尔摩斯探案集》（包括《血字的研究》《四签名》《巴斯克维尔的猎犬》等）。《福尔摩斯探案全集》的出版使福尔摩斯在英国读者中成为妇孺皆知的英雄，也使其作者柯南·道尔一举成名，后人更是称其为“侦探小说之父”。
《巴斯克维尔的猎犬》是英国作家阿瑟·柯南·道尔创作的中篇小说，堪称福尔摩斯探案故事系列的代表作。
该作讲述的是在巴斯克维尔家庭中，三百年来一直流传着的“魔鬼般的大猎狗”的神秘传说，像传说的那样，查尔斯爵士在离伦敦不远的一块沼泽地里死于非命。另外，有多部同名电影作品。
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Chapter 1.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the stick which our visitor had left behind him the night before. It was a fine, thick piece of wood, bulbous-headed, of the sort which is known as a “Penang lawyer.” Just under the head was a broad silver band nearly an inch across. “To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., from his friends of the C.C.H.,” was engraved upon it, with the date “1884.” It was just such a stick as the old-fashioned family practitioner used to carry—dignified, solid, and reassuring.
“Well, Watson, what do you make of it?”
Holmes was sitting with his back to me, and I had given him no sign of my occupation.
“How did you know what I was doing? I believe you have eyes in the back of your head.”
“I have, at least, a well-polished, silver-plated coffee-pot in front of me,” said he. “But, tell me, Watson, what do you make of our visitor’s stick? Since we have been so unfortunate as to miss him and have no notion of his errand, this accidental souvenir becomes of importance. Let me hear you reconstruct the man by an examination of it.”
“I think,” said I, following as far as I could the methods of my companion, “that Dr. Mortimer is a successful, elderly medical man, well-esteemed since those who know him give him this mark of their appreciation.”
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