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"
I
say
,
Watson
,
"
said
the
baronet
,
"
what
would
Holmes
say
to
this
?
How
about
that
hour
of
darkness
in
which
the
power
of
evil
is
exalted
?
"
As
if
in
answer
to
his
words
there
rose
suddenly
out
of
the
vast
gloom
of
the
moor
that
strange
cry
which
I
had
already
heard
upon
the
borders
of
the
great
Grimpen
Mire
.
It
came
with
the
wind
through
the
silence
of
the
night
,
a
long
,
deep
mutter
,
then
a
rising
howl
,
and
then
the
sad
moan
in
which
it
died
away
.
Again
and
again
it
sounded
,
the
whole
air
throbbing
with
it
,
strident
,
wild
,
and
menacing
.
The
baronet
caught
my
sleeve
and
his
face
glimmered
white
through
the
darkness
.
"
My
God
,
what
's
that
,
Watson
?
"
"
I
do
n't
know
.
It
's
a
sound
they
have
on
the
moor
.
I
heard
it
once
before
.
"
It
died
away
,
and
an
absolute
silence
closed
in
upon
us
.
We
stood
straining
our
ears
,
but
nothing
came
.
"
Watson
,
"
said
the
baronet
,
"
it
was
the
cry
of
a
hound
.
"
My
blood
ran
cold
in
my
veins
,
for
there
was
a
break
in
his
voice
which
told
of
the
sudden
horror
which
had
seized
him
.
"
What
do
they
call
this
sound
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Who
?
"
"
The
folk
on
the
country-side
.
"
