Воспоминания Шерлока Холмса
The Yellow Face
Mywifehadalwaysbeenawomanofafrank,opennature,anditgavemeachilltoseeherslinkingintoherownroomandcryingoutandwincingwhenherownhusbandspoketoher.
"‘Youawake,Jack!"shecriedwithanervouslaugh.‘Why,Ithoughtthatnothingcouldawakeyou.’
"‘Wherehaveyoubeen?"Iasked,moresternly.
"‘Idon’twonderthatyouaresurprised,"saidshe,andIcouldseethatherfingersweretremblingassheundidthefasteningsofhermantle.‘Why,Ineverrememberhavingdonesuchathinginmylifebefore.ThefactisthatIfeltasthoughIwerechokingandhadaperfectlongingforabreathoffreshair.IreallythinkthatIshouldhavefaintedifIhadnotgoneout.Istoodatthedoorforafewminutes,andnowIamquitemyselfagain.’
"Allthetimethatshewastellingmethisstorysheneveroncelookedinmydirection,andhervoicewasquiteunlikeherusualtones.Itwasevidenttomethatshewassayingwhatwasfalse.Isaidnothinginreply,butturnedmyfacetothewall,sickatheart,withmymindfilledwithathousandvenomousdoubtsandsuspicions.Whatwasitthatmywifewasconcealingfromme?Wherehadshebeenduringthatstrangeexpedition?IfeltthatIshouldhavenopeaceuntilIknew,andyetIshrankfromaskingheragainafteronceshehadtoldmewhatwasfalse.AlltherestofthenightItossedandtumbled,framingtheoryaftertheory,eachmoreunlikelythanthelast.
