Етюд у багряних тонах
Light in the Darkness.
“Goodboy,”saidHolmes,blandly. “Whydon’tyouintroducethispatternatScotlandYard?”hecontinued,takingapairofsteelhandcuffsfromadrawer. “Seehowbeautifullythespringworks.Theyfasteninaninstant.”
“Theoldpatternisgoodenough,”remarkedLestrade,“ifwecanonlyfindthemantoputthemon.”
“Verygood,verygood,”saidHolmes,smiling. “Thecabmanmayaswellhelpmewithmyboxes. Justaskhimtostepup,Wiggins.”
Iwassurprisedtofindmycompanionspeakingasthoughhewereabouttosetoutonajourney,sincehehadnotsaidanythingtomeaboutit. Therewasasmallportmanteauintheroom,andthishepulledoutandbegantostrap. Hewasbusilyengagedatitwhenthecabmanenteredtheroom.
“Justgivemeahelpwiththisbuckle,cabman,”hesaid,kneelingoverhistask,andneverturninghishead.
Thefellowcameforwardwithasomewhatsullen,defiantair,andputdownhishandstoassist. Atthatinstanttherewasasharpclick,thejanglingofmetal,andSherlockHolmessprangtohisfeetagain.
“Gentlemen,”hecried,withflashingeyes,“letmeintroduceyoutoMr.JeffersonHope,themurdererofEnochDrebberandofJosephStangerson.”
Thewholethingoccurredinamoment—soquicklythatIhadnotimetorealizeit. Ihaveavividrecollectionofthatinstant,ofHolmes’triumphantexpressionandtheringofhisvoice,ofthecabman’sdazed,savageface,asheglaredattheglitteringhandcuffs,whichhadappearedasifbymagicuponhiswrists.
