throughout
the book, all of them apparently unconnected to murder.
The first bit of evidence against the hypothesis of the dog is the absence of traces left by the animal, either on Selden’s
body or on the ground around it. Yet the moor surrounds the rocky slope from which Selden fell, and an enormous animal of
this sort would have left tracks that could be easily read.
Then there is another improbability that makes the dog’s presence even more difficult to accept. Just after discovering the
corpse, Holmes and Watson are joined by Stapleton, who has also heard the convict’s cries. If he has indeed trained the dog
well enough to attack Selden on command, the animal would most likely be well enough trained to return to its master, which
is not the case. Where has Stapleton hidden the animal?
The possibility that the dog killed Selden is so remote that Holmes dissuades Watson from mentioning it. After recalling that
there was no proof of attack by a dog in the death of Sir Charles Baskerville, he notes that the file is just as empty for
Selden’s death:
“We are not much better off tonight. Again, there was no direct connection between the hound and the man’s death. We never
saw the hound. We heard it; but we could not prove that it was running upon this man’s trail. There is a complete absence
of motive. No, my dear fellow;we must reconcile ourselves to the fact that we have no case at present, and that it is worth
our while to run any risk in order to establish one.” 34
And to Watson, who tries to reassure his friend that there is still a case to be made, Holmes replies, in a flash of lucidity:
“Not a shadow of one—only surmise and conjecture. We should be laughed out of court if we came with such a story and such
evidence.” 35
Though the dog is probably innocent of the first two deaths, it is hard to argue for its innocence in the third attack, the
one against Sir Henry Baskerville. For it is indeed a violent attack, even a lethal one; Watson witnesses the dog leap onto
Sir Henry, throw him to the ground, and “worry at his throat.” 36 This scene is indisputable; unlike the others, this time there are several witnesses.
But if we make an effort to break free of the perspective of Watson, who shares the Holmesian fantasy of murderer-with-dog,
things appear a little more complex. It is true that an enormous hound, shining with a terrible glow, rushes toward Henry
and throws itself upon him. But as dreadful as this fiery beast seems, it shows no sign of aggression at first, seeming content
to run across the moor. It is only after it has been wounded by Holmes and Watson that it is seized with madness:
With long bounds the huge black creature was leaping down the track, following hard upon the footsteps of our friend. So paralyzed
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. 37
Although Watson can hardly be suspected of sympathizing with an animal he regards a priori as guilty, a careful examination
of his account leaves little doubt about the order in which things occurred. The dog committed no actual violence before being
hit by the bullets, and it’s only after being shot that it sprang onto Sir Henry.
Although it’s impossible to be certain, we are compelled by fairness to say that the gunshots do not punish the attack but
cause it, and that there is a reasonable doubt about whether the attack would have occurred in their absence. Can we reproach
a dog hit by a bullet for being overcome with rage and rushing at one of the people it legitimately supposes
Brenda Clark, Paulette Bourgeois