Воспоминания Шерлока Холмса
The Naval Treaty
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Thetablewasalllaid,andjustasIwasabouttoringMrs.Hudsonenteredwiththeteaandcoffee.Afewminuteslatershebroughtinthreecovers,andwealldrewuptothetable,Holmesravenous,Icurious,andPhelpsinthegloomieststateofdepression.
"Mrs.Hudsonhasrisentotheoccasion,"saidHolmes,uncoveringadishofcurriedchicken."Hercuisineisalittlelimited,butshehasasgoodanideaofbreakfastasaScotchwoman.Whathaveyouthere,Watson?"
"Hamandeggs,"Ianswered.
"Good!Whatareyougoingtotake,Mr.Phelps—curriedfowloreggs,orwillyouhelpyourself?"
"Thankyou.Icaneatnothing,"saidPhelps.
"Oh,come!Trythedishbeforeyou."
"Thankyou,Iwouldreallyrathernot."
"Well,then,"saidHolmeswithamischievoustwinkle,"Isupposethatyouhavenoobjectiontohelpingme?"
Phelpsraisedthecover,andashedidsoheutteredascreamandsattherestaringwithafaceaswhiteastheplateuponwhichhelooked.Acrossthecentreofitwaslyingalittlecylinderofblue-graypaper.Hecaughtitup,devoureditwithhiseyes,andthendancedmadlyabouttheroom,pressingittohisbosomandshriekingoutinhisdelight.Thenhefellbackintoanarmchair,solimpandexhaustedwithhisownemotionsthatwehadtopourbrandydownhisthroattokeephimfromfainting.
"There!there!"saidHolmessoothingly,pattinghimupontheshoulder.
