The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes / Приключения Шерлока Холмса. Артур Конан Дойл

Чтение книги онлайн.

      I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the autumn of last year, and found him in deep conversation with a very stout, elderly gentleman, with fiery red hair. Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room, and closed the door behind me.

      “You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson,” he said cordially.

      “I was afraid that you were engaged.”

      “So I am. Very much so.”

      “Then I can wait in the next room.”

      “Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful cases.”

      The stout gentleman rose from his chair, and greeted me, with a quick little questioning glance from his small eyes.

      Putting his fingertips together, Holmes said:

      “Listen, my dear Watson. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning, and to tell a wonderful story. Mr. Wilson, please, repeat it for our friend. As a rule, when I hear such stories, I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present instance I admit that the facts are unique.”

      The client pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket of his coat. I took a good look at the man. But I did not gain very much, however. Our visitor seemed to be an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy gray trousers, a black frockcoat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top hat and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. There was nothing remarkable about the man, but he had а blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and discontent.

      Sherlock Holmes shook his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances.

      “Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else.”

      Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his eyes upon my companion.

      “How did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?” he asked. “How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour? It’s true, for I began as a ship’s carpenter.”

      “Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed.”

      “Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?”

      “Rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an arc and compass breastpin.”

      “Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?”

      “What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the desk.”

      “Well, but China?”

      “The fish which you have tattooed above your right wrist could only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo marks. And, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain.”

      Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. “Well, I never!” said he. “I see that this is quite simple!”

      “I begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I make a mistake in explaining. My poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid. Have you found the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?”