The commutation of his death sentence had been due to some doubts as to his complete sanity, so atrocious was his conduct.

Our wagonette had topped a rise and in front of us rose the huge expanse of the moor, mottled with gnarled and craggy cairns and tors.

A cold wind swept down from it and set us shivering.

Somewhere there, on that desolate plain, was lurking this fiendish man, hiding in a burrow like a wild beast, his heart full of malignancy against the whole race which had cast him out.
It needed but this to complete the grim suggestiveness of the barren waste, the chilling wind, and the darkling sky.

Even Baskerville fell silent and pulled his overcoat more closely around him.
We had left the fertile country behind and beneath us.