Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez
StanleyHopkinshadlaidhishanduponherarmandclaimedherashisprisoner,butshewavedhimasidegently,andyetwithanover-masteringdignitywhichcompelledobedience.Theoldmanlaybackinhischairwithatwitchingface,andstaredatherwithbroodingeyes.
“Yes,sir,Iamyourprisoner,”shesaid.“FromwhereIstoodIcouldheareverything,andIknowthatyouhavelearnedthetruth.Iconfessitall.ItwasIwhokilledtheyoungman.Butyouareright—youwhosayitwasanaccident.IdidnotevenknowthatitwasaknifewhichIheldinmyhand,forinmydespairIsnatchedanythingfromthetableandstruckathimtomakehimletmego.ItisthetruththatItell.”
“Madam,”saidHolmes,“Iamsurethatitisthetruth.Ifearthatyouarefarfromwell.”
Shehadturnedadreadfulcolour,themoreghastlyunderthedarkdust-streaksuponherface.Sheseatedherselfonthesideofthebed;thensheresumed.
“Ihaveonlyalittletimehere,”shesaid,“butIwouldhaveyoutoknowthewholetruth.Iamthisman’swife.HeisnotanEnglishman.HeisaRussian.HisnameIwillnottell.”
Forthefirsttimetheoldmanstirred.“Godblessyou,Anna!”hecried.“Godblessyou!”
Shecastalookofthedeepestdisdaininhisdirection.“Whyshouldyouclingsohardtothatwretchedlifeofyours,Sergius?”saidshe.“Ithasdoneharmtomanyandgoodtonone—noteventoyourself.However,itisnotformetocausethefrailthreadtobesnappedbeforeGod’stime.IhaveenoughalreadyuponmysoulsinceIcrossedthethresholdofthiscursedhouse.
