A Case of Identitytby Arthur Conan Doyle (4)

"Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it."

"Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?"

"Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened."

"But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"

"None."

"One more question. How did your mother take the matter?"

"She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again."

"And your father? Did you tell him?"

"Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night." She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob heavily into it.

"I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life."

"Then you don't think I'll see him again?"

"I fear not."

"Then what has happened to him?"

"You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can spare."

"I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she. "Here is the slip and here are four letters from him."

"Thank you. And your address?"

"No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell."

"Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your father's place of business?"

"He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street."

"Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your life."

"You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back."

For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever she might be summoned.

Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of infinite languor in his face.

"Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the maiden herself was most instructive."

"You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible to me," I remarked.

"Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realize the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you gather from that woman's appearance? Describe it."

"Well, she had a slate-colored, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was brown, rather darker than coffee color, with a little purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were grayish and were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn't observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way."

Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled.

To be continued...

A Case of Identitytby Arthur Conan Doyle (4) (с подсказками)

Установление личности. Артур Конан Дойл

"It seems to me that you have been very shamefully ['SeImfqli] (бессовестным образом) treated," said Holmes.

"Oh [qu], no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen [AnfL'sJn] (непредвиденное) occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged [pleGd] (дала слово) to him, and that he would claim his pledge [pleG] (обещание) sooner ['sHnq] (рано) or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding ['wedIN] (свадьбы)-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it."

"Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen [AnfL'sJn] (непредвиденная) catastrophe [kq'txstrqfi] has occurred to him?"

"Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw [fL'sL] (предвидел) some danger, or else he would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw [fL'sL] happened."

"But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"

"None."

"One more question. How did your mother take the matter?"

"She was angry ['xNgrI] (сердита), and said that I was never to speak of the matter again."

"And your father? Did you tell him?"

"Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed ['bPrqVd] (занял) my money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me half-mad [mxd] (я схожу с ума) to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink [wINk] (ни мгновения) at night." She pulled a little handkerchief ['hxNkqCIf] (платок) out of her muff [mAf] (муфты) and began to sob [sPb] (плакать) heavily ['hevIlI] (горько) into it.

"I shall glance [glRns] (взгляну) into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite ['defInIt] (определенный) result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell [dwel] (задерживаться) upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish ['vxnIS] (испариться) from your memory, as he has done from your life."

"Then you don't think I'll see him again?"

"I fear not."

"Then what has happened to him?"

"You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate ['xkjurIt] (точное) description of him and any letters of his which you can spare [speq] ()."

"I advertised ['xdvqtaIzd] (поместила объявление) for him in last Saturday's Chronicle ['krPnIk(q)l]," said she. "Here is the slip and here are four letters from him."

"Thank you. And your address?"

"No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell."

"Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your father's place of business?"

"He travels for Westhouse & Marbank , the great claret ['klxrqt] (красное вино) importers [Im'pLtqz] of Fenchurch Street."

"Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed [sJld] (запечатанной) book, and do not allow it to affect your life."

"You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back."

For all the preposterous [prI'pPst(q)rqs] (нелепую) hat [hxt] (шляпу) and the vacuous ['vxkjuqs] (простоватое) face, there was something noble [nqubl] (благородное) in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled [kqm'peld] (внушало) our respect. She laid her little bundle [bAndl] (связку) of papers upon the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever [wen'evq] (когда) she might be summoned ['sAmqnd] (вызвана).

Sherlock Holmes sat silent ['saIlqnt] (молча) for a few minutes with his fingertips ['fINgqtIps] (кончики пальцев) still pressed together, his legs stretched [streCt] (растянулы) out in front of him, and his gaze [geIz] (взор) directed upward ['Apwqd] (вверх) to the ceiling ['sJlIN] (потолку). Then he took down from the rack [rxk] (полки) the old and oily ['OIlI] (маслянистую) clay [kleI] (глиняную) pipe [paIp] (трубку), which was to him as a counsellor ['kaunslq] (советчик), and, having lit [lIt] (зажгя) it, he leaned back in his chair, with the thick [TIk] (густыми) blue cloud-wreaths [klaud-rJTs] (облаками) spinning ['spInIN] (клубящимися) up from him, and a look of infinite ['InfInIt] (полнейшего) languor ['lxNgq] (равнодушия) in his face.

"Quite an interesting study, that maiden [meIdn] (девица)," he observed. "I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite [traIt] (банальная) one. You will find parallel ['pxrqlel] cases, if you consult [kqn'sAlt] my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something of the sort at the Hague [heIg] (Гааге) last year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the maiden [meIdn] (девица) herself was most instructive [In'strAktIv] (дает материал для наблюдений)."

"You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible [In'vIzqbl] (невидимо) to me," I remarked [rI'mRkt] (заметил).

"Not invisible [In'vIzqbl] (невидимо) but unnoticed ['An'nqutIst] (незамечено), Watson ['wPtsqn]. You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realize the importance of sleeves [slJvz] (рукавов), the suggestiveness [sq'GestIvnIs] (значение) of thumb [TAm] (больших пальцев)-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace [bHt-leIs] (шнурка от ботинок). Now, what did you gather from that woman's ['wumqnz] appearance? Describe it."

"Well, she had a slate-colored [sleIt-'kAlqd] (серо-голубая), broad-brimmed [brLd-brImd] (с широкими полями) straw [strL] (соломенная) hat [hxt] (шляпа), with a feather ['feDq] (пером) of a brickish ['brIkIS] (кирпичного) red. Her jacket ['GxkIt] was black, with black beads [bJdz] (бусинками) sewn [squn] (пришитыми) upon it, and a fringe [frInG] (отделкой) of little black jet [Get] (черный агат) ornaments ['Lnqmqnts] (узорами). Her dress was brown [braun] (коричневое), rather darker ['dRkq] (темнее) than coffee color ['kAlq] (цвет), with a little purple [pE:pl] (фиолетового) plush [plAS] (бархата) at the neck and sleeves [slJvz] (рукавов). Her gloves [glAvz] (перчатки) were grayish ['greIIS] (серые) and were worn through at the right forefinger ['fLfINgq] (указательном пальце). Her boots [bHts] (ботинки) I didn't observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings ['Iq"rINz] (серьги), and a general air of being fairly well-to-do ["wel-tq-'dH] (состоятельная) in a vulgar ['vAlgq], comfortable ['kAmftqb(q)l, 'kAmfqt-] (добродушная), easy-going ['i:zI"gquIN] (беспечная) way."

Sherlock Holmes clapped [klxpt] (захлопал) his hands softly ['sPftli] (негромко) together and chuckled [CAkld] (усмехнулся).

До встречи!

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