Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist
“Pullup,Isay,or,byGeorge,I’llputabulletintoyourhorse.”
Holmesthrewthereinsintomylapandsprangdownfromthecart.
“You’rethemanwewanttosee.WhereisMissVioletSmith?”hesaid,inhisquick,clearway.
“That’swhatI’maskingyou.You’reinherdog-cart.Yououghttoknowwheresheis.”
“Wemetthedog-cartontheroad.Therewasnooneinit.Wedrovebacktohelptheyounglady.”
“GoodLord!GoodLord!WhatshallIdo?”criedthestranger,inanecstasyofdespair.“They’vegother,thathell-houndWoodleyandtheblackguardparson.Come,man,come,ifyoureallyareherfriend.Standbymeandwe’llsaveher,ifIhavetoleavemycarcassinCharlingtonWood.”
Herandistractedly,hispistolinhishand,towardsagapinthehedge.Holmesfollowedhim,andI,leavingthehorsegrazingbesidetheroad,followedHolmes.
“Thisiswheretheycamethrough,”saidhe,pointingtothemarksofseveralfeetuponthemuddypath.“Halloa!Stopaminute!Who’sthisinthebush?”
Itwasayoungfellowaboutseventeen,dressedlikeanostler,withleathercordsandgaiters.Helayuponhisback,hiskneesdrawnup,aterriblecutuponhishead.Hewasinsensible,butalive.Aglanceathiswoundtoldmethatithadnotpenetratedthebone.
“That’sPeter,thegroom,”criedthestranger.“Hedroveher.Thebeastshavepulledhimoffandclubbedhim.Lethimlie;wecan’tdohimanygood,butwemaysaveherfromtheworstfatethatcanbefallawoman.”
Weranfranticallydownthepath,whichwoundamongthetrees.
