Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Second Stain
Itwas,then,inayear,andeveninadecade,thatshallbenameless,thatupononeTuesdaymorninginautumnwefoundtwovisitorsofEuropeanfamewithinthewallsofourhumbleroominBakerStreet.Theone,austere,high-nosed,eagle-eyed,anddominant,wasnoneotherthantheillustriousLordBellinger,twicePremierofBritain.Theother,dark,clear-cut,andelegant,hardlyyetofmiddleage,andendowedwitheverybeautyofbodyandofmind,wastheRightHonourableTrelawneyHope,SecretaryforEuropeanAffairs,andthemostrisingstatesmaninthecountry.Theysatsidebysideuponourpaper-litteredsettee,anditwaseasytoseefromtheirwornandanxiousfacesthatitwasbusinessofthemostpressingimportancewhichhadbroughtthem.ThePremier’sthin,blue-veinedhandswereclaspedtightlyovertheivoryheadofhisumbrella,andhisgaunt,asceticfacelookedgloomilyfromHolmestome.TheEuropeanSecretarypullednervouslyathismoustacheandfidgetedwiththesealsofhiswatch-chain.
“WhenIdiscoveredmyloss,Mr.Holmes,whichwasateighto’clockthismorning,IatonceinformedthePrimeMinister.Itwasathissuggestionthatwehavebothcometoyou.”
“Haveyouinformedthepolice?”
“No,sir,”saidthePrimeMinister,withthequick,decisivemannerforwhichhewasfamous.“Wehavenotdoneso,norisitpossiblethatweshoulddoso.Toinformthepolicemust,inthelongrun,meantoinformthepublic.Thisiswhatweparticularlydesiretoavoid.
