Этюд в багровых тонах
A Continuation of the Reminiscences of John Watson, M.D.
Atthesight,Ileanedmybackagainstthedoorandlaughedloudandlong. Ihadalwaysknownthatvengeancewouldbesweet,butIhadneverhopedforthecontentmentofsoulwhichnowpossessedme.
“‘Youdog!’Isaid;‘IhavehuntedyoufromSaltLakeCitytoSt.Petersburg,andyouhavealwaysescapedme. Now,atlastyourwanderingshavecometoanend,foreitheryouorIshallneverseeto-morrow’ssunrise.’ HeshrunkstillfurtherawayasIspoke,andIcouldseeonhisfacethathethoughtIwasmad. SoIwasforthetime. Thepulsesinmytemplesbeatlikesledge-hammers,andIbelieveIwouldhavehadafitofsomesortifthebloodhadnotgushedfrommynoseandrelievedme.
“‘WhatdoyouthinkofLucyFerriernow?’Icried,lockingthedoor,andshakingthekeyinhisface. ‘Punishmenthasbeenslowincoming,butithasovertakenyouatlast. ’IsawhiscowardlipstrembleasIspoke. Hewouldhavebeggedforhislife,butheknewwellthatitwasuseless.
“‘Wouldyoumurderme?’hestammered.
“‘Thereisnomurder,’Ianswered. ‘Whotalksofmurderingamaddog? Whatmercyhadyouuponmypoordarling,whenyoudraggedherfromherslaughteredfather,andboreherawaytoyouraccursedandshamelessharem.’
“‘ItwasnotIwhokilledherfather,’hecried.
“‘Butitwasyouwhobrokeherinnocentheart,’Ishrieked,thrustingtheboxbeforehim. ‘LetthehighGodjudgebetweenus. Chooseandeat. Thereisdeathinoneandlifeintheother. Ishalltakewhatyouleave. Letusseeifthereisjusticeupontheearth,orifweareruledbychance.’
