Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе

           Afigurerosefromoneofthebasketchairs,andcameafewstepstomeetus.

           “Mywife,Hastings,”saidJohn.

           IshallneverforgetmyfirstsightofMaryCavendish.Hertall,slenderform,outlinedagainstthebrightlight;thevividsenseofslumberingfirethatseemedtofindexpressiononlyinthosewonderfultawnyeyesofhers,remarkableeyes,differentfromanyotherwoman’sthatIhaveeverknown;theintensepowerofstillnessshepossessed,whichneverthelessconveyedtheimpressionofawilduntamedspiritinanexquisitelycivilisedbody—allthesethingsareburntintomymemory.Ishallneverforgetthem.

           Shegreetedmewithafewwordsofpleasantwelcomeinalowclearvoice,andIsankintoabasketchairfeelingdistinctlygladthatIhadacceptedJohn’sinvitation.Mrs.Cavendishgavemesometea,andherfewquietremarksheightenedmyfirstimpressionofherasathoroughlyfascinatingwoman.Anappreciativelistenerisalwaysstimulating,andIdescribed,inahumorousmanner,certainincidentsofmyConvalescentHome,inawaywhich,Iflattermyself,greatlyamusedmyhostess.John,ofcourse,goodfellowthoughheis,couldhardlybecalledabrilliantconversationalist.

           AtthatmomentawellrememberedvoicefloatedthroughtheopenFrenchwindownearathand:

           “Thenyou’llwritetothePrincessaftertea,Alfred?I’llwritetoLadyTadminsterforthesecondday,myself.OrshallwewaituntilwehearfromthePrincess?Incaseofarefusal,LadyTadminstermightopenitthefirstday,andMrs.Crosbiethesecond.