Приключения Шерлока Холмса / The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (сборник)
Шрифт:
warning n предупреждение, предостережение
way n дорога, путь; способ, средство, манера; to get smb / smth out of the way избавиться от кого-л./ чего-л.; убрать кого-л./ что-л.; с пути (в прямом или переносном смысле); make one’s way двигаться
well adv да; ведь; ну и, точно; ну (выражает удивление, сомнение, уступку, согласие, чувство удовлетворения, облегчения)
whether cj ли
while cj, adv пока, в то время как
whisper v шептать
whole a целый
widower n вдовец
wig n парик
will n завещание
wish v желать,
without prp без
wooden a деревянный
worn a изношенный, потертый
worth a ст'oящий, заслуживающий
Y
yet adv все же
Голубой карбункул
The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle
Адаптация текста, упражнения, комментарии и словарь С. Г. Тамбовцевой
I
I had visited my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, in order to wish him the compliments of the season [48] . He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack beside him on the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear [49] , and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been hung ready for examination.
48
the compliments of the season – поздравления с праздником
49
worse for wear – видавший виды
“You are busy,” said I. “Perhaps I interrupt you.”
“Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one,” – he pointed at the old hat, – “but there is something interesting and informative in connection with it.”
I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, because a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice crystals. “I suppose,” I said, “that, though it looks homely, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it – that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime.”
“No, no. No crime,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense crowd of people, every possible combination of events can take place, and many little problems will appear which may be striking and unusual without being criminal. We have already had experience of such cases.”
“So much so [50] ,” l remarked, “that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been free of any legal crime.”
50
so much so – до такой степени, что
“Exactly. You mean my attempt to get back Irene Adler’s papers, the unusual case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will be innocent too. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?”
“Yes.”
“This trophy belongs to him.”
“It is his hat.”
“No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. Please, look upon it not as a seedy hat but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson’s fire. The facts are these: about four o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small celebration and was walking down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tall man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row began between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of them knocked off the man’s hat, on which he raised his stick to protect himself and, swinging it over his head, broke the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels [51] , and vanished in the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also run away at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left alone on the field of battle. There remained also the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most excellent Christmas goose.”
51
to take to one’s heels – пускаться наутёк
“Which surely he restored to their owner?”
“My dear Watson, that is the problem. It is true that ‘For Mrs. Henry Baker’ was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird’s left leg, and it is also true that the initials ‘H. B.’ are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them.”
“What, then, did Peterson do?”
“He brought to me both hat and goose on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are interesting to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten as soon as possible. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner.”
“Did he not advertise?”
“No.”
“Then, who could it be?”
“We can only deduce.”
“From his hat?”
“Precisely.”
“But you are joking. What can you gather from this old hat?”
“Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this thing?”
I took the battered object in my hands and turned it over rather pitifully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker’s name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were written upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. Apart from that, it was cracked, very dusty, and there were spots in several places, although he had tried to hide the discoloured places by concealing them with ink.
“I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend.
“On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. But you can not deduce from what you see. You are too uncertain in making your conclusions.”
“Then, please tell me what it is that you can deduce from this hat?”
He picked it up and gazed at it in the special introspective manner which was typical of him. “It is perhaps not so informative than it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there are a few conclusions which are very clear, and a few others which are highly probable too. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the look of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than before. It is a sign of a moral retrogression, which, when we take with the decline of his fortunes, seems to show some evil influence, probably drink, upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife stopped loving him.”