The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I read this the way it was meant to be read. As a little girl, on holiday in the Ardennes, with rumours of a child kidnapper in the air. No, I don't think that is the way it was meant to be read ... be patient! Anyway, we were in a big, rambling farmhouse. The owner remembered that he had some old magazines in English in the attic somewhere. So off he went - and returned with two or three bound folders, full of original copies of The Strand. A very interesting magazine, I was soon devouring every page of it ... and more so when I started reading the serialised account of The Hound of the Baskervilles! It was a beautifully hot and sunny Belgian summer, and I could hear my parents looking for me, to go outside for a walk down to the bridge or to play outside, but there I was, lying upstairs on my bed, head in dusty old magazines, and imagination far away on English moors.