Приключения Шерлока Холмса
The Man with the Twisted Lip
"Iwanttotestalittletheoryofmine,"saidhe,pullingonhisboots. "Ithink,Watson,thatyouarenowstandinginthepresenceofoneofthemostabsolutefoolsinEurope. IdeservetobekickedfromheretoCharingCross. ButIthinkIhavethekeyoftheaffairnow."
"Andwhereisit?"Iasked,smiling.
"Inthebathroom,"heanswered. "Oh,yes,Iamnotjoking,"hecontinued,seeingmylookofincredulity. "Ihavejustbeenthere,andIhavetakenitout,andIhavegotitinthisGladstonebag. Comeon,myboy,andweshallseewhetheritwillnotfitthelock."
Wemadeourwaydownstairsasquietlyaspossible,andoutintothebrightmorningsunshine. Intheroadstoodourhorseandtrap,withthehalf-cladstable-boywaitingatthehead. Webothsprangin,andawaywedasheddowntheLondonRoad. Afewcountrycartswerestirring,bearinginvegetablestothemetropolis,butthelinesofvillasoneithersidewereassilentandlifelessassomecityinadream.
"Ithasbeeninsomepointsasingularcase,"saidHolmes,flickingthehorseonintoagallop. "IconfessthatIhavebeenasblindasamole,butitisbettertolearnwisdomlatethannevertolearnitatall."
IntowntheearliestriserswerejustbeginningtolooksleepilyfromtheirwindowsaswedrovethroughthestreetsoftheSurreyside. PassingdowntheWaterlooBridgeRoadwecrossedovertheriver,anddashingupWellingtonStreetwheeledsharplytotherightandfoundourselvesinBowStreet. SherlockHolmeswaswellknowntotheforce,andthetwoconstablesatthedoorsalutedhim. Oneofthemheldthehorse’sheadwhiletheotherledusin.
"Whoisonduty?"askedHolmes.
