To do so would be to descend to the level of these poor peasants, who are not content with a mere fiend dog but must needs describe him with hell-fire shooting from his mouth and eyes.
Holmes would not listen to such fancies, and I am his agent.

But facts are facts, and I have twice heard this crying upon the moor.

Suppose that there were really some huge hound loose upon it; that would go far to explain everything.

But where could such a hound lie concealed, where did it get its food, where did it come from, how was it that no one saw it by day?
It must be confessed that the natural explanation offers almost as many difficulties as the other.

And always, apart from the hound, there is the fact of the human agency in London, the man in the cab, and the letter which warned Sir Henry against the moor.