Пригоди Шерлока Холмса
The Man with the Twisted Lip
IcouldmanageitbetterifIwerealone. IpromisedheronmywordthatIwouldsendhimhomeinacabwithintwohoursifhewereindeedattheaddresswhichshehadgivenme. AndsointenminutesIhadleftmyarmchairandcheerysitting-roombehindme,andwasspeedingeastwardinahansomonastrangeerrand,asitseemedtomeatthetime,thoughthefutureonlycouldshowhowstrangeitwastobe.
Buttherewasnogreatdifficultyinthefirststageofmyadventure. UpperSwandamLaneisavilealleylurkingbehindthehighwharveswhichlinethenorthsideoftherivertotheeastofLondonBridge. Betweenaslop-shopandagin-shop,approachedbyasteepflightofstepsleadingdowntoablackgaplikethemouthofacave,IfoundthedenofwhichIwasinsearch. Orderingmycabtowait,Ipasseddownthesteps,wornhollowinthecentrebytheceaselesstreadofdrunkenfeet;andbythelightofaflickeringoil-lampabovethedoorIfoundthelatchandmademywayintoalong,lowroom,thickandheavywiththebrownopiumsmoke,andterracedwithwoodenberths,liketheforecastleofanemigrantship.
Throughthegloomonecoulddimlycatchaglimpseofbodieslyinginstrangefantasticposes,bowedshoulders,bentknees,headsthrownback,andchinspointingupward,withhereandthereadark,lack-lustreeyeturneduponthenewcomer. Outoftheblackshadowsthereglimmeredlittleredcirclesoflight,nowbright,nowfaint,astheburningpoisonwaxedorwanedinthebowlsofthemetalpipes. Themostlaysilent,butsomemutteredtothemselves,andotherstalkedtogetherinastrange,low,monotonousvoice,theirconversationcomingingushes,andthensuddenlytailingoffintosilence,eachmumblingouthisownthoughtsandpayinglittleheedtothewordsofhisneighbour. Atthefartherendwasasmallbrazierofburningcharcoal,besidewhichonathree-leggedwoodenstooltheresatatall,thinoldman,withhisjawrestinguponhistwofists,andhiselbowsuponhisknees,staringintothefire.
