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.
I have had a wire that he arrived at Southampton this morning.
Now, Mr. Holmes, what would you advise me to do with him?"
"Why should he not go to the home of his fathers?"
"It seems natural, does it not? And yet, consider that every Baskerville who goes there meets with an evil fate.
I feel sure that if Sir Charles could have spoken with me before his death he would have warned me against bringing this, the last of the old race, and the heir to great wealth, to that deadly place.