The third, Rodger, was the black sheep of the family.

He came of the old masterful Baskerville strain, and was the very image, they tell me, of the family picture of old Hugo.

He made England too hot to hold him, fled to Central America, and died there in 1876 of yellow fever.

Henry is the last of the Baskervilles.

In one hour and five minutes I meet him at Waterloo Station.