It was hopeless to ask any more questions. It was clear that Holmes' cleverness with the telegram （电报）had not given us what we needed.
I was walking away from the post office when I heard someone r after me. A voice called me by name, and I turned. I thought it was Dr. Mortimer, because I knew n else in the village. To my surprise, it was a stranger. He was a small, thin man, between thirty and f years old, with fair hair and no beard. He was carrying a butterfly net, and a box for putting b in.
"I hope I can introduce myself, Dr. Watson," he said, as he came up to me. "My name is Stapleton. I was in Dr. Mortimer's house and we saw you. He tme who you are. May I walk along with you? This path back to the Hall goes near my home, Pen House. Please come in and meet my sister, and san hour with us. "
I accepted hinvitation, and we walked together.
"I know that you are a close friend of Sherlock Holmes," said Stapleton. "Has Mr Holmes any i about Sir Charles' death?"
"I'm a I can't answer that question," I said. "Will Mr Holmes visit us himself?" he asked.
"He can't leave London at the moment," I answered. I was very surprised that he was asking me these q.
—from The Hound of the Baskervilles
