“There’s nothing to show who he was (не удалось определить, кто он; to have nothing to show for it — ничего не добиться, не достичь, зря стараться; to show — показывать, выявлять, устанавливать),” said Lestrade. “You shall see the body at the mortuary (можете /сами/ осмотреть тело в мертвецкой; mortuary — морг, мертвецкая), but we have made nothing of it up to now (но мы /при осмотре/ так ничего и не узнали; to make nothing of — не понимать /чего-либо/; не разбираться /в чем-либо/; никак не воспользоваться; up to now — до сих пор). He is a tall man (высокий человек), sunburned (загорелый; sunburn — загар: sun — солнце; to burn — гореть, пылать; обжигать/ся/, получать ожог), very powerful (очень сильный; powerful — могучий, мощный, сильный; power — сила, мощь; могущество), not more than thirty (не более тридцати лет). He is poorly dressed (бедно/плохо одет), and yet does not appear to be a labourer (однако не похож на рабочего; labourer — /неквалифицированный/ рабочий; чернорабочий; labour — труд; работа). A horn-handled clasp knife (складной нож с роговой рукоятью; horn — рог; clasp — пряжка, запор, застежка) was lying in a pool of blood beside him (лежал в луже крови рядом с ним). Whether it was the weapon which did the deed (был ли он орудием, которое совершило это деяние = орудием убийства; weapon — оружие, орудие), or whether it belonged to the dead man, I do not know (принадлежал ли убитому, я не знаю). There was no name on his clothing (не его одежде не было имени), and nothing in his pockets (и в карманах не было ничего) save an apple (кроме яблока), some string (веревки), a shilling map of London (дешевой: «/стоимостью/ шиллинг» карты Лондона; shilling — шиллинг /английская монета; чеканилась до 1971 г.; равнялась 1/20 фунта стерлингов, или 12 пенсам/), and a photograph (и фотографии). Here it is (вот она).”

blood [bld], knee [ni:], whistle ['wsl], mortuary ['m:ur], knife [naf], weapon ['wepn], photograph ['futr:f]

“I ran back for a light and there was the poor fellow, a great gash in his throat and the whole place swimming in blood. He lay on his back, his knees drawn up, and his mouth horribly open. I shall see him in my dreams. I had just time to blow on my police-whistle, and then I must have fainted, for I knew nothing more until I found the policeman standing over me in the hall.”

“Well, who was the murdered man?” asked Holmes.

“There’s nothing to show who he was,” said Lestrade. “You shall see the body at the mortuary, but we have made nothing of it up to now. He is a tall man, sunburned, very powerful, not more than thirty. He is poorly dressed, and yet does not appear to be a labourer. A horn-handled clasp knife was lying in a pool of blood beside him. Whether it was the weapon which did the deed, or whether it belonged to the dead man, I do not know. There was no name on his clothing, and nothing in his pockets save an apple, some string, a shilling map of London, and a photograph. Here it is.”