Пригоди Шерлока Холмса

           "InspectorBradstreet,sir." 

           "Ah,Bradstreet,howareyou?" Atall,stoutofficialhadcomedownthestone-flaggedpassage,inapeakedcapandfroggedjacket. "Iwishtohaveaquietwordwithyou,Bradstreet." "Certainly,Mr.Holmes. Stepintomyroomhere." Itwasasmall,office-likeroom,withahugeledgeruponthetable,andatelephoneprojectingfromthewall. Theinspectorsatdownathisdesk. 

           "WhatcanIdoforyou,Mr.Holmes?" 

           "Icalledaboutthatbeggarman,Boone—theonewhowaschargedwithbeingconcernedinthedisappearanceofMr.NevilleSt.Clair,ofLee." 

           "Yes.Hewasbroughtupandremandedforfurtherinquiries." 

           "SoIheard. Youhavehimhere?" 

           "Inthecells." 

           "Ishequiet?" 

           "Oh,hegivesnotrouble. Butheisadirtyscoundrel." 

           "Dirty?" 

           "Yes,itisallwecandotomakehimwashhishands,andhisfaceisasblackasatinker’s. Well,whenoncehiscasehasbeensettled,hewillhavearegularprisonbath;andIthink,ifyousawhim,youwouldagreewithmethatheneededit." 

           "Ishouldliketoseehimverymuch." 

           "Wouldyou?Thatiseasilydone.Comethisway. Youcanleaveyourbag."