Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist
ItwastheseverityofHolmes’smannerandthefactthatheslippedarevolverintohispocketbeforeleavingourroomswhichimpressedmewiththefeelingthattragedymightprovetolurkbehindthiscurioustrainofevents.
Arainynighthadbeenfollowedbyagloriousmorning,andtheheath-coveredcountryside,withtheglowingclumpsoffloweringgorse,seemedallthemorebeautifultoeyeswhichwerewearyofthedunsanddrabsandslategreysofLondon.HolmesandIwalkedalongthebroad,sandyroadinhalingthefreshmorningairandrejoicinginthemusicofthebirdsandthefreshbreathofthespring.FromariseoftheroadontheshoulderofCrooksburyHill,wecouldseethegrimHallbristlingoutfromamidsttheancientoaks,which,oldastheywere,werestillyoungerthanthebuildingwhichtheysurrounded.Holmespointeddownthelongtractofroadwhichwound,areddishyellowband,betweenthebrownoftheheathandthebuddinggreenofthewoods.Faraway,ablackdot,wecouldseeavehiclemovinginourdirection.Holmesgaveanexclamationofimpatience.
“Ihavegivenamarginofhalfanhour,”saidhe.“Ifthatishertrap,shemustbemakingfortheearliertrain.Ifear,Watson,thatshewillbepastCharlingtonbeforewecanpossiblymeether.”
Fromtheinstantthatwepassedtherise,wecouldnolongerseethevehicle,butwehastenedonwardatsuchapacethatmysedentarylifebegantotelluponme,andIwascompelledtofallbehind.Holmes,however,wasalwaysintraining,forhehadinexhaustiblestoresofnervousenergyuponwhichtodraw.
