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.

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