Етюд у багряних тонах
Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
“ByJove!”Icried,“ifhereallywantssomeonetosharetheroomsandtheexpense,Iamtheverymanforhim. Ishouldpreferhavingapartnertobeingalone.”
YoungStamfordlookedratherstrangelyatmeoverhiswine-glass. “Youdon’tknowSherlockHolmesyet,”hesaid;“perhapsyouwouldnotcareforhimasaconstantcompanion.”
“Why,whatisthereagainsthim?”
“Oh,Ididn’tsaytherewasanythingagainsthim. Heisalittlequeerinhisideas—anenthusiastinsomebranchesofscience. AsfarasIknowheisadecentfellowenough.”
“Amedicalstudent,Isuppose?”saidI.
“No—Ihavenoideawhatheintendstogoinfor. Ibelieveheiswellupinanatomy,andheisafirst-classchemist;but,asfarasIknow,hehasnevertakenoutanysystematicmedicalclasses. Hisstudiesareverydesultoryandeccentric,buthehasamassedalotofout-of-thewayknowledgewhichwouldastonishhisprofessors.”
“Didyouneveraskhimwhathewasgoinginfor?”Iasked.
“No;heisnotamanthatitiseasytodrawout,thoughhecanbecommunicativeenoughwhenthefancyseizeshim.”
“Ishouldliketomeethim,”Isaid. “IfIamtolodgewithanyone,Ishouldpreferamanofstudiousandquiethabits. Iamnotstrongenoughyettostandmuchnoiseorexcitement. IhadenoughofbothinAfghanistantolastmefortheremainderofmynaturalexistence. HowcouldImeetthisfriendofyours?”
“Heissuretobeatthelaboratory,”returnedmycompanion.
