Собака Баскервиллей
Sir Henry Baskerville
Thepenhassplutteredtwiceinasingleword,andhasrundrythreetimesinashortaddress,showingthattherewasverylittleinkinthebottle. Now,aprivatepenorink-bottleisseldomallowedtobeinsuchastate,andthecombinationofthetwomustbequiterare. Butyouknowthehotelinkandthehotelpen,whereitisraretogetanythingelse. Yes,Ihaveverylittlehesitationinsayingthatcouldweexaminethewaste-paperbasketsofthehotelsaroundCharingCrossuntilwefoundtheremainsofthemutilatedTimesleaderwecouldlayourhandsstraightuponthepersonwhosentthissingularmessage. Halloa! Halloa! What’sthis?"
Hewascarefullyexaminingthefoolscap,uponwhichthewordswerepasted,holdingitonlyaninchortwofromhiseyes.
"Well?"
"Nothing,"saidhe,throwingitdown. "Itisablankhalf-sheetofpaper,withoutevenawater-markuponit. Ithinkwehavedrawnasmuchaswecanfromthiscuriousletter; andnow,SirHenry,hasanythingelseofinteresthappenedtoyousinceyouhavebeeninLondon?"
"Why,no,Mr.Holmes. Ithinknot."
"Youhavenotobservedanyonefolloworwatchyou?"
"Iseemtohavewalkedrightintothethickofadimenovel,"saidourvisitor. "Whyinthundershouldanyonefolloworwatchme?"
"Wearecomingtothat. Youhavenothingelsetoreporttousbeforewegointothismatter?"
