Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist
WehadreachedtheshrubberywhichsurroundedthehousewhenHolmespulledup.
“Theydidn’tgotothehouse.Herearetheirmarksontheleft—here,besidethelaurelbushes.Ah!Isaidso.”
Ashespoke,awoman’sshrillscream—ascreamwhichvibratedwithafrenzyofhorror—burstfromthethick,greenclumpofbushesinfrontofus.Itendedsuddenlyonitshighestnotewithachokeandagurgle.
“Thisway!Thisway!Theyareinthebowling-alley,”criedthestranger,dartingthroughthebushes.“Ah,thecowardlydogs!Followme,gentlemen!Toolate!toolate!bythelivingJingo!”
Wehadbrokensuddenlyintoalovelygladeofgreenswardsurroundedbyancienttrees.Onthefarthersideofit,undertheshadowofamightyoak,therestoodasingulargroupofthreepeople.Onewasawoman,ourclient,droopingandfaint,ahandkerchiefroundhermouth.Oppositeherstoodabrutal,heavy-faced,red-moustachedyoungman,hisgaiteredlegspartedwide,onearmakimbo,theotherwavingaridingcrop,hiswholeattitudesuggestiveoftriumphantbravado.Betweenthemanelderly,grey-beardedman,wearingashortsurpliceoveralighttweedsuit,hadevidentlyjustcompletedtheweddingservice,forhepocketedhisprayer-bookasweappeared,andslappedthesinisterbridegroomuponthebackinjovialcongratulation.
“They’remarried!”Igasped.
“Comeon!”criedourguide,“comeon!”Herushedacrosstheglade,HolmesandIathisheels.Asweapproached,theladystaggeredagainstthetrunkofthetreeforsupport.
