Extrait :
Over the great Grimpen Mire there hung a dense, white fog. It was drifting slowly in our direction and banked itself up like a wall on that side of us, low, but thick and well defined. The moon shone on it, and it looked like a great shimmering icefield, with the heads of the distant tors as rocks borne upon its surface. Holmes's face was turned towards it, and he muttered impatiently as he watched its sluggish drift.
"It's moving towards us, Watson."
"Is that serious?"
"Very serious, indeed - the one thing upon earth which could have disarranged my plans."
Every minute that white woolly plain which covered one half of the moor was drifting closer and closer to the house. Already the first thin wisps of it were curling across the golden square of the lighted window. The farther wall of the orchard was already invisible, and the trees were standing out of a swirl of white vapour. As we watched it the fog-wreaths came crawling round both corners of the house and rolled slowly into one dense bank, on which the upper floor and the roof floated like a strange ship upon a shadowy sea. Holmes struck his hand passionately upon the rock in front of us, and stamped his feet in his impatience.
I was at Holmes's elbow, and I glanced for an instant at his face. It was pale and exultant, his eyes shining brightly in the moonlight. But suddenly they started forward in a rigid, fixed stare, and his lips parted in amazement. At the same instant Lestrade gave a yell of terror and threw himself face downwards upon the ground. I sprang to my feet, my inert hand grasping my pistol, my mind paralysed by the dreadful shape which had sprung out upon us from the shadows of the fog. A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame. Never in the delirious dream of a disordered brain could anything more savage, more appalling, more hellish be conceived than that dark form and savage face which broke upon us out of the wall of fog."
With long bounds the huge black creature was leaping down the track, following hard upon the footsteps of our friend. So paralysed were we by the apparition that we allowed him to pass before we had recovered our nerve. Then Holmes and I both fired together, and the creature gave a hideous howl, which showed that one at least had hit him. He did not pause, however, but bounded onwards. Far away on the path we saw Sir Henry looking back, his face white in the moonlight, his hands raised in horror, glaring helplessly at the frightful thing which was hunting him down.. . .
Never have I seen a man run as Holmes ran that night. I am reckoned fleet of foot, but he outpaced me . . . In front of us as we flew up the track we heard scream after scream from Sir Henry and the deep roar of the hound. I was in time to see the beast spring upon its victim, hurl him to the ground, and worry at his throat.
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THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Illustrations Copyright © 2006 Pam Smy. Published by Candlewick Press, Inc., Cambridge, MA.
Biographie de l'auteur :
SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE (1859-1930) is most famously known as the creator of one of literature's greatest characters — master detective Sherlock Holmes. Conan Doyle wrote sixty stories featuring the enigmatic sleuth, including "The Hound of the Baskervilles." Inspired by local legends of ghostly hounds that roamed Dartmoor, this story was published in 1901 in THE STRAND magazine and was an instant success. Such was the popularity of Conan Doyle's creation that the magazine's circulation rose by an amazing thirty thousand copies overnight. Described by the author himself as "a real creeper," "The Hound of the Baskervilles" has, more than a century later, proved to be an enduring and popular classic of detective fiction.
PAM SMY graduated from the Cambridge School of Art with an MA in Children's Book Illustration. Her work has appeared in the anthology MAGICAL TALES OF IRELAND, as well as numerous other books. While
researching THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES, Pam took a camping trip to the moors to sketch and get a feeling of the place. "It
rained most of the time and was very atmospheric," she says. "The moor really is an extra character in the book." Pam Smy lives in England.
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