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- Артур Конан Дойл
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"
Yes
,
it
's
rather
an
uncanny
place
altogether
.
Look
at
the
hill-side
yonder
.
What
do
you
make
of
those
?
"
The
whole
steep
slope
was
covered
with
gray
circular
rings
of
stone
,
a
score
of
them
at
least
.
"
What
are
they
?
Sheep-pens
?
"
"
No
,
they
are
the
homes
of
our
worthy
ancestors
.
Prehistoric
man
lived
thickly
on
the
moor
,
and
as
no
one
in
particular
has
lived
there
since
,
we
find
all
his
little
arrangements
exactly
as
he
left
them
.
These
are
his
wigwams
with
the
roofs
off
.
You
can
even
see
his
hearth
and
his
couch
if
you
have
the
curiosity
to
go
inside
.
"
But
it
is
quite
a
town
.
When
was
it
inhabited
?
"
"
Neolithic
man
--
no
date
.
"
"
What
did
he
do
?
"
"
He
grazed
his
cattle
on
these
slopes
,
and
he
learned
to
dig
for
tin
when
the
bronze
sword
began
to
supersede
the
stone
axe
.
Look
at
the
great
trench
in
the
opposite
hill
.
That
is
his
mark
.
Yes
,
you
will
find
some
very
singular
points
about
the
moor
,
Dr.
Watson
.
Oh
,
excuse
me
an
instant
!
It
is
surely
Cyclopides
.
"
A
small
fly
or
moth
had
fluttered
across
our
path
,
and
in
an
instant
Stapleton
was
rushing
with
extraordinary
energy
and
speed
in
pursuit
of
it
.
To
my
dismay
the
creature
flew
straight
for
the
great
mire
,
and
my
acquaintance
never
paused
for
an
instant
,
bounding
from
tuft
to
tuft
behind
it
,
his
green
net
waving
in
the
air
.
His
gray
clothes
and
jerky
,
zigzag
,
irregular
progress
made
him
not
unlike
some
huge
moth
himself
.
I
was
standing
watching
his
pursuit
with
a
mixture
of
admiration
for
his
extraordinary
activity
and
fear
lest
he
should
lose
his
footing
in
the
treacherous
mire
,
when
I
heard
the
sound
of
steps
,
and
turning
round
found
a
woman
near
me
upon
the
path
.
She
had
come
from
the
direction
in
which
the
plume
of
smoke
indicated
the
position
of
Merripit
House
,
but
the
dip
of
the
moor
had
hid
her
until
she
was
quite
close
.
I
could
not
doubt
that
this
was
the
Miss
Stapleton
of
whom
I
had
been
told
,
since
ladies
of
any
sort
must
be
few
upon
the
moor
,
and
I
remembered
that
I
had
heard
someone
describe
her
as
being
a
beauty
.
The
woman
who
approached
me
was
certainly
that
,
and
of
a
most
uncommon
type
.
There
could
not
have
been
a
greater
contrast
between
brother
and
sister
,
for
Stapleton
was
neutral
tinted
,
with
light
hair
and
gray
eyes
,
while
she
was
darker
than
any
brunette
whom
I
have
seen
in
England
--
slim
,
elegant
,
and
tall
.
She
had
a
proud
,
finely
cut
face
,
so
regular
that
it
might
have
seemed
impassive
were
it
not
for
the
sensitive
mouth
and
the
beautiful
dark
,
eager
eyes
.
With
her
perfect
figure
and
elegant
dress
she
was
,
indeed
,
a
strange
apparition
upon
a
lonely
moorland
path
.
Her
eyes
were
on
her
brother
as
I
turned
,
and
then
she
quickened
her
pace
towards
me
.
I
had
raised
my
hat
and
was
about
to
make
some
explanatory
remark
,
when
her
own
words
turned
all
my
thoughts
into
a
new
channel
.
