Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Six Napoleons
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InhalfanhourwehadreachedPittStreet,aquietlittlebackwaterjustbesideoneofthebriskestcurrentsofLondonlife.No.131wasoneofarow,allflat-chested,respectable,andmostunromanticdwellings.Aswedroveup,wefoundtherailingsinfrontofthehouselinedbyacuriouscrowd.Holmeswhistled.
“ByGeorge!It’sattemptedmurderattheleast.NothinglesswillholdtheLondonmessage-boy.There’sadeedofviolenceindicatedinthatfellow’sroundshouldersandoutstretchedneck.What’sthis,Watson?Thetopstepsswilleddownandtheotheronesdry.Footstepsenough,anyhow!Well,well,there’sLestradeatthefrontwindow,andweshallsoonknowallaboutit.”
Theofficialreceiveduswithaverygravefaceandshowedusintoasitting-room,whereanexceedinglyunkemptandagitatedelderlyman,cladinaflanneldressing-gown,waspacingupanddown.Hewasintroducedtousastheownerofthehouse—Mr.HoraceHarker,oftheCentralPressSyndicate.
“It’stheNapoleonbustbusinessagain,”saidLestrade.“Youseemedinterestedlastnight,Mr.Holmes,soIthoughtperhapsyouwouldbegladtobepresentnowthattheaffairhastakenaverymuchgraverturn.”
“Whathasitturnedto,then?”
“Tomurder.Mr.Harker,willyoutellthesegentlemenexactlywhathasoccurred?”
Themaninthedressing-gownturneduponuswithamostmelancholyface.
