Спогади Шерлока Холмса

           "

           Thetablewasalllaid,andjustasIwasabouttoringMrs.Hudsonenteredwiththeteaandcoffee.Afewminuteslatershebroughtinthreecovers,andwealldrewuptothetable,Holmesravenous,Icurious,andPhelpsinthegloomieststateofdepression.

           "Mrs.Hudsonhasrisentotheoccasion,"saidHolmes,uncoveringadishofcurriedchicken."Hercuisineisalittlelimited,butshehasasgoodanideaofbreakfastasaScotchwoman.Whathaveyouthere,Watson?"

           "Hamandeggs,"Ianswered.

           "Good!Whatareyougoingtotake,Mr.Phelps—curriedfowloreggs,orwillyouhelpyourself?"

           "Thankyou.Icaneatnothing,"saidPhelps.

           "Oh,come!Trythedishbeforeyou."

           "Thankyou,Iwouldreallyrathernot."

           "Well,then,"saidHolmeswithamischievoustwinkle,"Isupposethatyouhavenoobjectiontohelpingme?"

           Phelpsraisedthecover,andashedidsoheutteredascreamandsattherestaringwithafaceaswhiteastheplateuponwhichhelooked.Acrossthecentreofitwaslyingalittlecylinderofblue-graypaper.Hecaughtitup,devoureditwithhiseyes,andthendancedmadlyabouttheroom,pressingittohisbosomandshriekingoutinhisdelight.Thenhefellbackintoanarmchair,solimpandexhaustedwithhisownemotionsthatwehadtopourbrandydownhisthroattokeephimfromfainting.

           "There!there!"saidHolmessoothingly,pattinghimupontheshoulder.