Lestrade:
I was just starting to come round as Doctor Watson pulled himself to his feet, and I watched him, waiting for the room to stop spinning. "Where's the prisoner?" I asked.
"Escaped," said he. "Holmes went after him." There was blood running down his arm and a hole in his sleeve, but when I went to mention them to him he only shook his head and bent down to pick up his revolver from the floor. "I'm all right. And you?"
"I'll be fine in a bit," I told him and started to make my way upright.
"Miss Stapleton is dead." The words came out of him like they were tearing him in half. "Her body is in the shed. See to her." And then he tucked his left hand into his coat, like Bonaparte in a picture, and away he goes while I'm still trying to find my feet.
Well, I couldn't leave it at that, could I? So out I went too, and followed the blood trail he left behind to the gate that led onto the moor. I was fair dizzy, and for a moment I admit I did think as I might meet that horrible hound again in the fog, but then I remembered that Mr. Holmes had said it was dead, so I went on, feeling the loss of my revolver quite sore. I hadn't got far when I heard a shot ahead of me, still some ways off. I didn't know whether to run towards it or away, and that's the truth, and in the end I just kept creeping along in the doctor's wake and hoping that I wouldn't lose the path.
I found all three of them by a patch of bog. Stapleton or Baskerville, whichever you might call him, he was dead as a doornail, a nice neat hole in his head and my barker still held tight in his hands, finger on the trigger like he'd been a-ready to shoot. Holmes he was covered in mud to his chin, and nearly asleep with cold, and the Doctor! Good Lord but that man was a mess. He hadn't done a thing for the hole in his arm and his coat was off him on the ground and blood still coming out of him like he had it to spare. I knelt down beside him and got out my kerchief to tie round his arm while I yelled at Holmes to wake himself up and do some good.
They both groaned and moaned at me, but they roused, and between us Holmes and I got the doctor back into his coat, for he'd started to shiver. We got him to his feet, and would have put him between us but his bad arm won't allow for that, not even when it's not bleeding, so it was Holmes in the middle holding up Watson and me holding up Holmes and God knows it was the doctor steering, for by that point he knew the path better than either of us and my head was hurting so bad that all I wanted to do was stop and lie down. You'd have thought we'd go back to Merripit House for it was closer, but by then all either of the other two wanted was to get to Baskerville Hall.