Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Dancing Men
Aboutaweekago—itwastheTuesdayoflastweek—Ifoundononeofthewindow-sillsanumberofabsurdlittledancingfiguresliketheseuponthepaper.Theywerescrawledwithchalk.Ithoughtthatitwasthestable-boywhohaddrawnthem,buttheladsworeheknewnothingaboutit.Anyhow,theyhadcomethereduringthenight.Ihadthemwashedout,andIonlymentionedthemattertomywifeafterwards.Tomysurprise,shetookitveryseriously,andbeggedmeifanymorecametoletherseethem.Nonedidcomeforaweek,andthenyesterdaymorningIfoundthispaperlyingonthesundialinthegarden.IshowedittoElsie,anddownshedroppedinadeadfaint.Sincethenshehaslookedlikeawomaninadream,halfdazed,andwithterroralwayslurkinginhereyes.ItwasthenthatIwroteandsentthepapertoyou,Mr.Holmes.ItwasnotathingthatIcouldtaketothepolice,fortheywouldhavelaughedatme,butyouwilltellmewhattodo.Iamnotarichman,butifthereisanydangerthreateningmylittlewoman,Iwouldspendmylastcoppertoshieldher.”
Hewasafinecreature,thismanoftheoldEnglishsoil—simple,straight,andgentle,withhisgreat,earnestblueeyesandbroad,comelyface.Hisloveforhiswifeandhistrustinhershoneinhisfeatures.Holmeshadlistenedtohisstorywiththeutmostattention,andnowhesatforsometimeinsilentthought.
“Don’tyouthink,Mr.Cubitt,”saidhe,atlast,“thatyourbestplanwouldbetomakeadirectappealtoyourwife,andtoaskhertosharehersecretwithyou?”
HiltonCubittshookhismassivehead.
