Етюд у багряних тонах
Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Whenitcomestobeatingthesubjectsinthedissecting-roomswithastick,itiscertainlytakingratherabizarreshape.”
“Beatingthesubjects!”
“Yes,toverifyhowfarbruisesmaybeproducedafterdeath. Isawhimatitwithmyowneyes.”
“Andyetyousayheisnotamedicalstudent?”
“No.Heavenknowswhattheobjectsofhisstudiesare. Buthereweare,andyoumustformyourownimpressionsabouthim.” Ashespoke,weturneddownanarrowlaneandpassedthroughasmallside-door,whichopenedintoawingofthegreathospital. Itwasfamiliargroundtome,andIneedednoguidingasweascendedthebleakstonestaircaseandmadeourwaydownthelongcorridorwithitsvistaofwhitewashedwallanddun-coloureddoors. Nearthefurtherendalowarchedpassagebranchedawayfromitandledtothechemicallaboratory.
Thiswasaloftychamber,linedandlitteredwithcountlessbottles. Broad,lowtableswerescatteredabout,whichbristledwithretorts,test-tubes,andlittleBunsenlamps,withtheirblueflickeringflames. Therewasonlyonestudentintheroom,whowasbendingoveradistanttableabsorbedinhiswork. Atthesoundofourstepsheglancedroundandsprangtohisfeetwithacryofpleasure. “I’vefoundit!I’vefoundit,”heshoutedtomycompanion,runningtowardsuswithatest-tubeinhishand. “Ihavefoundare-agentwhichisprecipitatedbyhoemoglobin,4andbynothingelse.”Hadhediscoveredagoldmine,greaterdelightcouldnothaveshoneuponhisfeatures.
