Етюд у багряних тонах
Tobias Gregson shows what he can do.
Hewavedhishand,andtheyscamperedawaydownstairslikesomanyrats,andweheardtheirshrillvoicesnextmomentinthestreet.
“There’smoreworktobegotoutofoneofthoselittlebeggarsthanoutofadozenoftheforce,”Holmesremarked. “Themeresightofanofficial-lookingpersonsealsmen’slips. Theseyoungsters,however,goeverywhereandheareverything. Theyareassharpasneedles,too;alltheywantisorganisation.”
“IsitonthisBrixtoncasethatyouareemployingthem?”Iasked.
“Yes;thereisapointwhichIwishtoascertain. Itismerelyamatteroftime. Hullo!wearegoingtohearsomenewsnowwithavengeance! HereisGregsoncomingdowntheroadwithbeatitudewrittenuponeveryfeatureofhisface. Boundforus,Iknow.Yes,heisstopping.Thereheis!”
Therewasaviolentpealatthebell,andinafewsecondsthefair-haireddetectivecameupthestairs,threestepsatatime,andburstintooursitting-room.
“Mydearfellow,”hecried,wringingHolmes’unresponsivehand,“congratulateme! Ihavemadethewholethingasclearasday.”
Ashadeofanxietyseemedtometocrossmycompanion’sexpressiveface.
“Doyoumeanthatyouareontherighttrack?”heasked.
“Therighttrack! Why,sir,wehavethemanunderlockandkey.”
“Andhisnameis?”
“ArthurCharpentier,sub-lieutenantinHerMajesty’snavy,”criedGregson,pompously,rubbinghisfathandsandinflatinghischest.
SherlockHolmesgaveasighofrelief,andrelaxedintoasmile.
