Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Empty House
HereHolmesturnedsuddenlytotherightandwefoundourselvesinalarge,square,emptyroom,heavilyshadowedinthecorners,butfaintlylitinthecentrefromthelightsofthestreetbeyond.Therewasnolampnear,andthewindowwasthickwithdust,sothatwecouldonlyjustdiscerneachother’sfigureswithin.Mycompanionputhishanduponmyshoulderandhislipsclosetomyear.
“Doyouknowwhereweare?”hewhispered.
“SurelythatisBakerStreet,”Ianswered,staringthroughthedimwindow.
“Exactly.WeareinCamdenHouse,whichstandsoppositetoourownoldquarters.”
“Butwhyarewehere?”
“Becauseitcommandssoexcellentaviewofthatpicturesquepile.MightItroubleyou,mydearWatson,todrawalittlenearertothewindow,takingeveryprecautionnottoshowyourself,andthentolookupatouroldrooms—thestarting-pointofsomanyofyourlittlefairy-tales?Wewillseeifmythreeyearsofabsencehaveentirelytakenawaymypowertosurpriseyou.”
Icreptforwardandlookedacrossatthefamiliarwindow.Asmyeyesfelluponit,Igaveagaspandacryofamazement.Theblindwasdown,andastronglightwasburningintheroom.Theshadowofamanwhowasseatedinachairwithinwasthrowninhard,blackoutlineupontheluminousscreenofthewindow.Therewasnomistakingthepoiseofthehead,thesquarenessoftheshoulders,thesharpnessofthefeatures.Thefacewasturnedhalf-round,andtheeffectwasthatofoneofthoseblacksilhouetteswhichourgrandparentslovedtoframe.ItwasaperfectreproductionofHolmes.
