Етюд у багряних тонах
What John Rance had to tell.
Themanwhomyouheldinyourhandsisthemanwhoholdstheclueofthismystery,andwhomweareseeking. Thereisnouseofarguingaboutitnow;Itellyouthatitisso. Comealong,Doctor.”
Westartedoffforthecabtogether,leavingourinformantincredulous,butobviouslyuncomfortable.
“Theblunderingfool,”Holmessaid,bitterly,aswedrovebacktoourlodgings. “Justtothinkofhishavingsuchanincomparablebitofgoodluck,andnottakingadvantageofit.”
“Iamratherinthedarkstill. Itistruethatthedescriptionofthismantallieswithyourideaofthesecondpartyinthismystery. Butwhyshouldhecomebacktothehouseafterleavingit? Thatisnotthewayofcriminals.”
“Thering,man,thering:thatwaswhathecamebackfor. Ifwehavenootherwayofcatchinghim,wecanalwaysbaitourlinewiththering. Ishallhavehim,Doctor—I’lllayyoutwotoonethatIhavehim. Imustthankyouforitall. Imightnothavegonebutforyou,andsohavemissedthefineststudyIevercameacross:astudyinscarlet,eh? Whyshouldn’tweusealittleartjargon. There’sthescarletthreadofmurderrunningthroughthecolourlessskeinoflife,andourdutyistounravelit,andisolateit,andexposeeveryinchofit. Andnowforlunch,andthenforNormanNeruda. Herattackandherbowingaresplendid. What’sthatlittlethingofChopin’ssheplayssomagnificently: Tra-la-la-lira-lira-lay.”
