Imagery:
"My Lady's coach hath nodding plumes, the coachman hath no head, My Lady is an ashen white, as one who is long dead."
"Holmes' pixies, waiting to tease the unwary traveler into a mire, no longer seemed so ludicrous, and had it not been for Holmes, I might very well have heard the soft pad of the Baskerville hound behind me and felt its warm breath on the back of my neck. However, with Holmes beside me as a talisman, the spooks kept their distance, and what might have been a place of animosity and danger was rendered merely desolate to the point of being grim."
The Moor: A Mary Russell Novel