Спогади Шерлока Холмса
The Stock-Broker’s Clerk
"ByJove,Itoldyouso!"criedtheclerk."That’shewalkingaheadofusthere."
Hepointedtoasmallish,dark,well-dressedmanwhowasbustlingalongtheothersideoftheroad.Aswewatchedhimhelookedacrossataboywhowasbawlingoutthelatesteditionoftheeveningpaper,and,runningoveramongthecabsandbusses,heboughtonefromhim.Then,clutchingitinhishand,hevanishedthroughadoorway.
"Therehegoes!"criedHallPycroft."Thesearethecompany’sofficesintowhichhehasgone.Comewithme,andI’llfixitupaseasilyaspossible."
Followinghislead,weascendedfivestories,untilwefoundourselvesoutsideahalf-openeddoor,atwhichourclienttapped.Avoicewithinbadeusenter,andweenteredabare,unfurnishedroomsuchasHallPycrofthaddescribed.Atthesingletablesatthemanwhomwehadseeninthestreet,withhiseveningpaperspreadoutinfrontofhim,andashelookedupatusitseemedtomethatIhadneverlookeduponafacewhichboresuchmarksofgrief,andofsomethingbeyondgrief—ofahorrorsuchascomestofewmeninalifetime.Hisbrowglistenedwithperspiration,hischeekswereofthedull,deadwhiteofafish’sbelly,andhiseyeswerewildandstaring.Helookedathisclerkasthoughhefailedtorecognizehim,andIcouldseebytheastonishmentdepicteduponourconductor’sfacethatthiswasbynomeanstheusualappearanceofhisemployer.
"Youlookill,Mr.Pinner!"heexclaimed.
