(*First published in a serialized fashion by The Strand Magazine August 1901 - April 1902. SPOILERS AHEAD)
"The fresh beauty of the following morning did something to efface from our minds the grim and grey impression which had been left upon both of us by our first experience at Baskerville Hall." Because this can't be a wall-to-wall creeper, for what would the fun be in that? Casting occasional light into the dark really does make the dark seem all the darker. Dark. In this chapter named The Stapletons of Merripit House, that is precisely who we meet, speaking of dark.
[The environs continue to play in a Jekyll and Hyde manner.]
But what's so dark and in sunlit-breakfast juxtaposition about the goofy Jack Stapleton and his green butterfly net? We'll get to that shortly. First, "did you hear someone, a woman I think, sobbing in the night?" Asks Watson of Sir Henry who responds he did indeed but thought it was a dream. A nice murky surreal touch, bringing in the dream-state. The two call for Barrymore to explain and he just gets paler and paler. Whoever it was, he assures the pair, that it wasn't his wife if that's what you mean. Nope. Nuh-uh. Liar!
"But her tell-tale eyes were red and glanced at me from between swollen lids." relates Watson via narration just moments after her hubby's denial. Watson then decides to take a four-mile jaunt over to the post-master to check for certain that Barrymore really did receive that telegram, in his hand, as proof of him not being the fake-bearded spy from Holmes' flubbed chase. Sure, he (again) has a real beard and stands quite taller but LET'S GO. Also, an eight-mile no big deal walk really explains why late Victorians/early Edwardians don't seem so capable of being fat.
Think of the canonical drawings of Mycroft Holmes and The King of Bohemia. These are noted big men who wouldn't be so-so notably big these days. Thanks, fast food! Oh, and the kid did not deliver the telegram directly into Barrymore's hands and all bets are now on the butler actually having done it--although again, nothing fits there. Not really the strongest of red herrings, that. But surely he's more likely a culprit than... enter Jack Stapleton. "Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feet behind me and by a voice which called me by name."
Stapleton is described as, essentially, the least threatening person who ever pranced the moor's green earth. Also, it bears mentioning again, that he's carrying a butterfly net. Silly! Maybe it really is the dark-bearded Lurch-seeming butler. Oh and in Stapleton's other hand is a box for botanical specimens. Definitely that damned murderous butler. Two ::: very ::: important things next happen. One is that S says he knows of the legendary 'fiend dog.' "I have heard it." Furthermore (1B), he posits that said dog chased Sir Charles and frightened him to death as he did.
The second thing is here we get Watson being properly introduced to a quite important facet of the moor's personality. The Grimpen Mire, Mr. Hyde if you will. It eats moor ponies, fer chrissakes. Two more moor ponies in the last two days alone! {an additional spoiler alert warning before we continue} But no worries, Stapleton can traverse it, often does, and furthermore would absolutely never-ever drown in the thing. Not that anyone would ever assume him to do so because of what he just told Watson. But even if he ever maybe did, there's no sense looking for him to make sure.
We also, in this epic-length chapter read a (pre)historical overview of the area, learn Stapleton's back story, get "did you ever hear a bitter booming," see him then run off after a moth or something (cyclopides literally means sorta just that), and then W meets Mrs. S and she warns him to get the hell back to London fast. I feel like this one chapter could have been three and furthermore that if it were a person it would be stealing catalytic converters to fund its meth addiction. Watson naturally finds Beryl Stapleton quite attractive. Great, Jack is back. More dialog and wait--she thought W was Henry. Uh-oh.
I'm tired.
"I had a school," says Stapleton to Watson since for some dang reason W thought it was a good idea to follow these weirdos home. I have begun to feel like I'm also on an eight-mile cross-country elongated sentences hike. No map. Did I mention that Jack was super interested in Sherlock Holmes being on the case? I did now. Also now but also really later, Beryl just wants Watson to forget about that silly warning she gave him that was actually meant for Henry. She falls back on the story of the hound as an explanation, and drops a big something of "My brother is very anxious to have the Hall inhabited." Oh, really?
Watson hoofs it back to the Hall. I'm calling a cab. Chapter seven is a funny one, with lots of ado in a rather helter-skelter more rambling downright tedious manner. It leaves a fellow reeling, feeling quite on his tired heels.
ADDITIONAL HOUN
Thoughts on Chapter 6
Thoughts on Chapter 8
Online sources for this article: The Arthur Conan Doyle Encyclopedia (The Hound of the Baskervilles).
Thoughts on Chapter 8
::: very :::