The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation--sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles.
Le fracas des roues s’amortissait sur des tas de végétation pourrissante, tristes cadeaux de bienvenue, me sembla-t-il, de la nature à l’héritier des Baskerville !