Приключения Шерлока Холмса / The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (сборник)

“Yes, it is!” he said. “Every problem becomes very simple when it is explained to you. But here you are[88], this one is not explained yet. Let’s see what you can say, my friend Watson.” He gave me a sheet of paper and turned to his chemical analysis.

I looked with amazement at the strange symbols on the paper.

“Well, Holmes, it is a child’s drawing,” I said.

“Oh, that’s your idea!”

‘What else should it be?”

“That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt from Norfolk wants to know. He sent us this little puzzle and every minute we expect him. Oh, there’s a ring at the bell, Watson. I am not very much surprised if it is our guest.”

We heard heavy steps on the stairs, and a second later a tall gentleman entered. He had clear eyes and florid cheeks which told us that he led his life far from the fogs of Baker Street. He seemed to bring[89] strong, fresh air with him as he entered. He shook hands with[90] each of us and was going to sit down when he noticed the paper with the curious symbols, which I had just examined and left on the table.

“Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you think about it?” he cried. “I heard that you liked strange mysteries, and this one is the strangest, I think! I sent the paper ahead so that you have time to study it before I came.”

“Yes, it is very curious,” said Holmes. “At first sight[91] one can think that it’s a child’s drawing. It consists of funny little dancing figures. Why do you pay so much attention on[92] such an object?”

“I don’t, Mr. Holmes. But my wife does. It is frightening her to death[93]. She says nothing, but I can see fear in her eyes. That’s why I want to find everything out.”

Holmes took the paper and turned to the sunlight. It was a page from a note-book. The symbols were done in pencil, and were in this order —

Holmes examined it for some time, and then folded it carefully and put it in his pocket-book.

“This promises to be a very interesting and unusual case,” he said. “You gave me a few details in your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but I would be very grateful if you tell the story again, for my friend, Dr. Watson.”

“I’m not good at telling stories,” said our visitor. He was rather nervous. “You’ll just ask questions if something is unclear. I’ll begin from my marriage last year; but I want to say first of all, that although I’m not a rich man, my family has been at Ridling Thorpe for five centuries and it is well-known in the County of Norfolk. Last year I came to London and stopped at a boarding-house[94] in Russell Square. There was an American young lady there… Elsie Patrick. Somehow we became friends, until I fell in love with[95] her as a man could be. We got quietly married and returned to Norfolk as a couple. You’ll think it is very mad, Mr. Holmes, that a man of a good old family could marry a woman like this, knowing nothing of her past or of her family. But if you saw her and knew her it would help you to understand.”

“Elsie was very straight. She gave me an opportunity to think it over and cancel the wedding if I wanted to do so. ‘I have had something very unpleasant in my life,’ she said; ‘I want to forget all about it, because it is very painful to me. If you marry me, Hilton, you will marry a woman who did nothing wrong. But you will have to believe me and to allow me to be silent about my past to the time when I became yours. If these conditions are too difficult, then leave me and go back to Norfolk. And I’ll lead my lonely life here in which you found me.’ It was the day before our wedding. I told her that I agreed with her conditions, and I keep my word.”

“Well, we have been happily married already for a year. But about a month ago, at the end of June, for the first time I saw some signs of trouble. One day my wife received a letter from America. I saw the American stamp. She turned white[96], read the letter and threw it into the fire. She didn’t tell me anything, and I didn’t say a word, because a promise is a promise; but from that moment she has always been uneasy. There is always a look of fear on her face… a look as if she is expecting something. If only she trusted me – she would see that I was her best friend. But if she doesn’t speak, I can say nothing. She is an honest woman, Mr. Holmes, and whatever trouble have been in her past life it is not her fault. I am only a simple Norfolk squire, but there is no one in England who values his family honour more than I do. She knows it well, and she knew it well before she married me. She will never leave any stain on it… I am sure.”