Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 388 The Hound of the Baskervilles!

Despite the ongoing speculation about the identity of "James Bond," Lionel remained unaffected.

Today, he wrote to Conan Doyle, inviting him to his apartment to discuss what to write for the latest Sherlock Holmes story.

Arthur Conan Doyle sat in an armchair by the fireplace, leaning forward, his face flushed with excitement, almost restless.

Lionel, sitting opposite him, appeared much calmer, sipping his red wine while listening to his rambling monologue.

“Incredible, Leon! You have no idea how detailed the information provided by the ‘Leonard Boys’ is!”

Conan Doyle's voice trembled with excitement: "From the shape of footprints in a muddy field to the almost invisible scratches on a window, to the movement routes of homeless people in different neighborhoods... everything is there!"

Lionel frowned. He still found the term "Lionel's Boys" a pain in the ass. Couldn't they be called "The Justices" or something?
Conan Doyle was oblivious to Lionel's unusual expression. He spread a thick notebook on his lap and flipped through it rapidly, the pages rustling.

"Under Professor Bell's guidance, I tried to classify and summarize this massive amount of information. My God, it was like entering a whole new world!"

Some of the medical students involved, especially those interested in toxicology and microscopy, suggested some types of traces that we had never even considered.

For example, they tried to deduce which specific workshops or factories the suspect might have visited by analyzing the special dust adhering to the clothing fibers…

Lionel: "..." At this rate, won't the criminal investigation society in this world develop a little too fast?
Conan Doyle took a deep breath and tried to calm his tone, but the light in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.

"And, Scotland Yard, hey, guess what? They actually got a budget!"
Although it wasn't much, it was enough for them to clear out several rooms and hang up a sign for a 'crime lab'—probably the first of its kind in the world!
Colonel Howard Vincent officially hired Professor Bell as a consultant to the CID, and paid him a salary!

Ha, now a real 'consultant detective' has been officially recognized! And as his assistant, I'll get a reward too..."

At this point, he smiled somewhat embarrassedly and touched his nose: "With the royalties you give me, I'm doing pretty well now."

Lionel put down his cup, a gentle smile on his face: "This is a good start, Arthur."

Systematic observation, classification, and evidence-based reasoning are the cornerstones of future developments in criminal science.

What you and Professor Bell are doing is of great significance.

Conan Doyle, emboldened by the affirmation, said to Lionel with adoration, "You've forgotten yourself, Lionel! You are the beginning of everything!"

Lionel was reluctant to discuss the topic further, so he steered the conversation in another direction: "The serialization of The Sign of Four is coming to an end, Norman is pressing us hard, and readers are looking forward to Holmes' new adventures."

I have a new story idea that I'd like to discuss with you.

Conan Doyle immediately sat up straight, like a student attentively listening to a lecture: "Please go on!"

Lionel's voice lowered: "This story is about an ancient curse, a gloomy manor, an heir from America, and a giant hound—"

It appears at night, spewing flames from hell from its eyes and mouth…

Conan Doyle held his breath; the very beginning had already filled him with a palpable sense of terror.

He asked curiously, "Are you... are you going to write a gothic story?"

Lionel nodded. "Indeed. This will be the first time that a Sherlock Holmes story has instilled a deep-seated fear in people."

Conan Doyle became excited and instinctively picked up his pen, ready to record Lionel's next narration.

He felt this was still a "Sign of Four" collaboration, Lionel said, and he took notes. But Lionel stopped him: "This time, you not only have to listen with your own ears, but also remember with your own brain!"

As he spoke, Lionel pointed to his temple and took the pen from his hand.

Conan Doyle was stunned; did he memorize the entire novel?

Although he was a top student since childhood, his memory could never be so good that he could remember something after hearing it only once.

Lionel didn't continue explaining, but instead changed the subject: "This time, I hope to make some breakthroughs in the way I tell stories, and try some techniques that have never been seen in past detective novels."

Conan Doyle, curious, pressed on: "What kind of method?"

Lionel carefully chose his words, selecting those that Conan Doyle could understand: "I call it 'narrative trick'!"
Simply put, it involves manipulating the narrative style and the order in which information is presented to guide or even 'deceive' the reader.

This will lead them to draw incorrect conclusions during the reading process, only to realize the truth at the very end.

Seeing the confusion in Conan Doyle's eyes, he further explained: "Specifically, I intend to make extensive use of letters and diaries in the narrative of this case."

Conan Doyle pondered: "Letters? Diaries? Like in 'The Sign of Four,' interspersed with the accounts of those involved?"

Lionel shook his head: "No, not just interweaving. This time, I want the core of the entire case to be presented in the form of Dr. Watson's letters and reports to Holmes, as well as excerpts from his personal diary."

He then used simple, concise language to give Conan Doyle a brief summary of The Hound of the Baskervilles:

"This story takes place in a manor located in the wasteland, belonging to a family named 'Baskerville.' Within this family, a 'curse of the demon hound' has been passed down through generations..."

Sir Charles Baskerville died suddenly at his manor. Large canine teeth marks and footprints were found at the scene of his death. The family lawyer, Strike, sought the help of Sherlock Holmes to uncover the truth…

Henry Baskerville, the heir to the estate, returned from America only to be met with a series of anonymous warning letters. His shoes also went missing, and the howling of a giant dog echoed from the swamp—everything was shrouded in an eerie atmosphere…

The story ended in 15 minutes. Although it lacked details, the overall framework of the novel and the key reasoning within it were already in place.

But the confusion in Conan Doyle's eyes deepened; he hesitated, and felt uneasy...

Lionel noticed his expression and smiled encouragingly, "If you have any questions, just say them."

Conan Doyle looked into Lionel's eyes, and after a moment spoke: "Leon, I think... I think this story is wonderful..."

However, the reasoning part, the reasoning part…”

He didn't continue, seemingly afraid of offending his friend and mentor.

Lionel, however, remained unperturbed, his smile unchanged: "Isn't the 'mystery part' of this novel a bit weaker, not as exciting as before?"

Conan Doyle breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed that Lionel himself had realized it.

He nodded: "Indeed...that's exactly right."

Lionel's smile widened: "This novel was originally just a game between us, the author and the readers..."

Conan Doyle was stunned.

(End of this chapter)