Этюд в багровых тонах
A Continuation of the Reminiscences of John Watson, M.D.
“Hecoweredawaywithwildcriesandprayersformercy,butIdrewmyknifeandheldittohisthroatuntilhehadobeyedme. ThenIswallowedtheother,andwestoodfacingoneanotherinsilenceforaminuteormore,waitingtoseewhichwastoliveandwhichwastodie. ShallIeverforgetthelookwhichcameoverhisfacewhenthefirstwarningpangstoldhimthatthepoisonwasinhissystem? IlaughedasIsawit,andheldLucy’smarriageringinfrontofhiseyes. Itwasbutforamoment,fortheactionofthealkaloidisrapid. Aspasmofpaincontortedhisfeatures;hethrewhishandsoutinfrontofhim,staggered,andthen,withahoarsecry,fellheavilyuponthefloor. Iturnedhimoverwithmyfoot,andplacedmyhanduponhisheart. Therewasnomovement. Hewasdead!
“Thebloodhadbeenstreamingfrommynose,butIhadtakennonoticeofit. Idon’tknowwhatitwasthatputitintomyheadtowriteuponthewallwithit. Perhapsitwassomemischievousideaofsettingthepoliceuponawrongtrack,forIfeltlight-heartedandcheerful. IrememberedaGermanbeingfoundinNewYorkwithRACHEwrittenupabovehim,anditwasarguedatthetimeinthenewspapersthatthesecretsocietiesmusthavedoneit. IguessedthatwhatpuzzledtheNewYorkerswouldpuzzletheLondoners,soIdippedmyfingerinmyownbloodandprinteditonaconvenientplaceonthewall. ThenIwalkeddowntomycabandfoundthattherewasnobodyabout,andthatthenightwasstillverywild.
