Holmes had been on the moor for days, living in the hut and watching everyone, and he already knew the name of our enemy. It was Stapleton. The woman who passed as his sister was really his wife. As we talked, a terrible scream rose out of the darkness, and then the sound of a heavy fall. We ran and found a man lying face down at the bottom of the rocks, dressed in Sir Henry's tweed suit. But it was not Sir Henry. It was Selden the convict, who had been given Sir Henry's old clothes by Barrymore, and the hound had hunted him by their smell. That evening at the Hall Holmes stood in front of the family portraits and covered the hat and hair of Hugo Baskerville with his hand. The face that looked out at us was the face of Stapleton. He is a Baskerville, said Holmes, and he means to have the estate.