Повернення Шерлока Холмса

The Adventure of the Dancing Men

           Aboutaweekago—itwastheTuesdayoflastweek—Ifoundononeofthewindow-sillsanumberofabsurdlittledancingfiguresliketheseuponthepaper.Theywerescrawledwithchalk.Ithoughtthatitwasthestable-boywhohaddrawnthem,buttheladsworeheknewnothingaboutit.Anyhow,theyhadcomethereduringthenight.Ihadthemwashedout,andIonlymentionedthemattertomywifeafterwards.Tomysurprise,shetookitveryseriously,andbeggedmeifanymorecametoletherseethem.Nonedidcomeforaweek,andthenyesterdaymorningIfoundthispaperlyingonthesundialinthegarden.IshowedittoElsie,anddownshedroppedinadeadfaint.Sincethenshehaslookedlikeawomaninadream,halfdazed,andwithterroralwayslurkinginhereyes.ItwasthenthatIwroteandsentthepapertoyou,Mr.Holmes.ItwasnotathingthatIcouldtaketothepolice,fortheywouldhavelaughedatme,butyouwilltellmewhattodo.Iamnotarichman,butifthereisanydangerthreateningmylittlewoman,Iwouldspendmylastcoppertoshieldher.”

           Hewasafinecreature,thismanoftheoldEnglishsoil—simple,straight,andgentle,withhisgreat,earnestblueeyesandbroad,comelyface.Hisloveforhiswifeandhistrustinhershoneinhisfeatures.Holmeshadlistenedtohisstorywiththeutmostattention,andnowhesatforsometimeinsilentthought.

           “Don’tyouthink,Mr.Cubitt,”saidhe,atlast,“thatyourbestplanwouldbetomakeadirectappealtoyourwife,andtoaskhertosharehersecretwithyou?”

           HiltonCubittshookhismassivehead.

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