Пригоди Шерлока Холмса
A Case of Identity
Themanwhoenteredwasasturdy,middle-sizedfellow,somethirtyyearsofage,clean-shaven,andsallow-skinned,withabland,insinuatingmanner,andapairofwonderfullysharpandpenetratinggrayeyes. Heshotaquestioningglanceateachofus,placedhisshinytop-hatuponthesideboard,andwithaslightbowsidleddownintothenearestchair.
"Good-evening,Mr.JamesWindibank,"saidHolmes. "Ithinkthatthistypewrittenletterisfromyou,inwhichyoumadeanappointmentwithmeforsixo’clock?"
"Yes,sir. IamafraidthatIamalittlelate,butIamnotquitemyownmaster,youknow. IamsorrythatMissSutherlandhastroubledyouaboutthislittlematter,forIthinkitisfarbetternottowashlinenofthesortinpublic. Itwasquiteagainstmywishesthatshecame,butsheisaveryexcitable,impulsivegirl,asyoumayhavenoticed,andsheisnoteasilycontrolledwhenshehasmadeuphermindonapoint. Ofcourse,Ididnotmindyousomuch,asyouarenotconnectedwiththeofficialpolice,butitisnotpleasanttohaveafamilymisfortunelikethisnoisedabroad. Besides,itisauselessexpense,forhowcouldyoupossiblyfindthisHosmerAngel?"
"Onthecontrary,"saidHolmesquietly;"IhaveeveryreasontobelievethatIwillsucceedindiscoveringMr.HosmerAngel."
Mr.Windibankgaveaviolentstartanddroppedhisgloves. "Iamdelightedtohearit,"hesaid.
"Itisacuriousthing,"remarkedHolmes,"thatatypewriterhasreallyquiteasmuchindividualityasaman’shandwriting. Unlesstheyarequitenew,notwoofthemwriteexactlyalike. Somelettersgetmorewornthanothers,andsomewearonlyononeside.
