of Baskerville Hall for two years. His death was discovered when he failed to return from his nightly walk down the yew alley and his servant Barrymore (who also lives at the hall, with his wife) went out looking for him. Sir Charless body was discovered at the end of the alley with no signs of violence on it, but severe facial distortion, attributed to his heart problems. Unexplained however, is why he appears (from his footprints in the damp ground) to have walked on his tiptoes from when he passed the gate that leads from the alley to the moor. The article ends with the information that Henry Baskerville was the next of kin and inheritor of the Baskerville fortune and estate, being the son of Sir Charless younger brother. However, Mortimer has some additional information, which he did not disclose earlier to protect his reputation as a man of science and to ensure that a tenant could be found. First, the remoteness of the moor had created a close
And you landed him. Enjoy yourself." "I'm trying." I was grateful that Cary understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn't explain something. "I researched the hell out of him this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It's on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out." I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. "You're the best. I love you." "Back atcha, baby girl." He headed out. "I'll head down to the front desk and bring him up. Take your time. He's ten minutes early." Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the
"Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed as I headed up the stairs. "'Night, honey," he called after me. No doubt he would be listening carefully all evening, waiting for me to try to sneak out. "See you in the morning, Dad." See you creeping into my room tonight at midnight to check on me. I worked to make my tread sound slow and tired as I walked up the stairs to my room. I shut the door loud enough for him to hear, and then sprinted on my tiptoes to the window. I threw it open and leaned out into the night. My eyes scanned the darkness, the impenetrable shadows of the trees. "Edward?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic. The quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?" I whirled, one hand flying to my throat in surprise. He lay, smiling hugely, across my bed, his hands behind his head, his feet dangling off the end, the picture of ease. "Oh!" I breathed, sinking unsteadily to the floor. "I'm sorry
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