Пригоди Шерлока Холмса
The Man with the Twisted Lip
HadIbeenrecognizedinthatdenmylifewouldnothavebeenworthanhour’spurchase;forIhaveuseditbeforenowformyownpurposes,andtherascallylascarwhorunsithassworntohavevengeanceuponme. Thereisatrap-dooratthebackofthatbuilding,nearthecornerofPaul’sWharf,whichcouldtellsomestrangetalesofwhathaspassedthroughituponthemoonlessnights."
"What!Youdonotmeanbodies?"
"Ay,bodies,Watson. Weshouldberichmenifwehad1000poundsforeverypoordevilwhohasbeendonetodeathinthatden. Itisthevilestmurder-traponthewholeriverside,andIfearthatNevilleSt.Clairhasentereditnevertoleaveitmore. Butourtrapshouldbehere." Heputhistwoforefingersbetweenhisteethandwhistledshrilly—asignalwhichwasansweredbyasimilarwhistlefromthedistance,followedshortlybytherattleofwheelsandtheclinkofhorses’hoofs.
"Now,Watson,"saidHolmes,asatalldog-cartdashedupthroughthegloom,throwingouttwogoldentunnelsofyellowlightfromitssidelanterns."You’llcomewithme,won’tyou?
"IfIcanbeofuse."
"Oh,atrustycomradeisalwaysofuse;andachroniclerstillmoreso. MyroomatTheCedarsisadouble-beddedone."
"TheCedars?"
"Yes;thatisMr.St.Clair’shouse. IamstayingtherewhileIconducttheinquiry."
"Whereisit,then?"
"NearLee,inKent. Wehaveaseven-miledrivebeforeus."
"ButIamallinthedark."
