Study In Scarlet, A A. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
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Название: Study In Scarlet, A A

Автор: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Классическая проза

Серия:

isbn: 9781974995806

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘Decameron,’ with name of Joseph Stangerson upon the fly-leaf. Two letters—one addressed to E. J. Drebber and one to Joseph Stangerson.”

      “At what address?”

      “American Exchange, Strand—to be left till called for. They are both from the Guion Steamship Company, and refer to the sailing of their boats from Liverpool. It is clear that this unfortunate man was about to return to New York.”

      “Have you made any inquiries as to this man, Stangerson?”

      “I did it at once, sir,” said Gregson. “I have had advertisements sent to all the newspapers, and one of my men has gone to the American Exchange, but he has not returned yet.”

      “Have you sent to Cleveland?”

      “We telegraphed this morning.”

      “How did you word your inquiries?”

      “We simply detailed the circumstances, and said that we should be glad of any information which could help us.”

      “You did not ask for particulars on any point which appeared to you to be crucial?”

      “I asked about Stangerson.”

      “Nothing else? Is there no circumstance on which this whole case appears to hinge? Will you not telegraph again?”

      “I have said all I have to say,” said Gregson, in an offended voice.

      Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself, and appeared to be about to make some remark, when Lestrade, who had been in the front room while we were holding this conversation in the hall, reappeared upon the scene, rubbing his hands in a pompous and self-satisfied manner.

      “Mr. Gregson,” he said, “I have just made a discovery of the highest importance, and one which would have been overlooked had I not made a careful examination of the walls.”

      The little man’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he was evidently in a state of suppressed exultation at having scored a point against his colleague.

      “Come here,” he said, bustling back into the room, the atmosphere of which felt clearer since the removal of its ghastly inmate. “Now, stand there!”

      He struck a match on his boot and held it up against the wall.

      “Look at that!” he said, triumphantly.

      I have remarked that the paper had fallen away in parts. In this particular corner of the room a large piece had peeled off, leaving a yellow square of coarse plastering. Across this bare space there was scrawled in blood-red letters a single word—

       RACHE.

      “What do you think of that?” cried the detective, with the air of a showman exhibiting his show. “This was overlooked because it was in the darkest corner of the room, and no one thought of looking there. The murderer has written it with his or her own blood. See this smear where it has trickled down the wall! That disposes of the idea of suicide anyhow. Why was that corner chosen to write it on? I will tell you. See that candle on the mantelpiece. It was lit at the time, and if it was lit this corner would be the brightest instead of the darkest portion of the wall.”

      “And what does it mean now that you have found it?” asked Gregson in a depreciatory voice.

      “Mean? Why, it means that the writer was going to put the female name Rachel, but was disturbed before he or she had time to finish. You mark my words, when this case comes to be cleared up you will find that a woman named Rachel has something to do with it. It’s all very well for you to laugh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You may be very smart and clever, but the old hound is the best, when all is said and done.”

      “I really beg your pardon!” said my companion, who had ruffled the little man’s temper by bursting into an explosion of laughter. “You certainly have the credit of being the first of us to find this out, and, as you say, it bears every mark of having been written by the other participant in last night’s mystery. I have not had time to examine this room yet, but with your permission I shall do so now.”

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