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

When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. “It’s a bonny[62] thing,” said he. “Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody crime. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and it is remarkable because it has every characteristic of the carbuncle, except that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallized charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would lead to the gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strongbox now and write to the Countess to say that we have it.”

“Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?”

“I cannot tell.”

“Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?”

“It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall know by a very simple test if we have an answer to our advertisement.”

“And you can do nothing until then?”

“Nothing.”

“In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, because I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business.”

“Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. By the way, in view of recent events, perhaps I should ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.”

I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I returned to Baker Street. As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle of the light. Just as l arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes’s room.

“Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily take on. “Please take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I can see that your clothing is more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?”

“Yes, sir, that is certainly my hat.”

He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, a broad, intelligent face, and a grey beard. A shade of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his hand, recalled Holmes’s proposition about his habits. His seedy black coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, and there was no sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow manner, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a learned man who has been unfortunate recently.

“We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, “because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I can not understand now why you did not advertise.”

Our visitor laughed shyly. “Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were,” he said. “I was sure that the gang of roughs who attacked me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not want to spend more money hopelessly trying to find them.”

“Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we had to eat it.”

“To eat it!” Our visitor has stood up in excitement.

“Yes, if we didn’t do so, it would be of no use to anyone. But I believe that this other goose, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will suit you equally well?”

“Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.

“Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish—”

The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as souvenirs of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly see why I would need the disjecta membra[63] of my late acquaintance. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will take the excellent bird which I can see upon the sideboard.”

Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a fancier, and I have rarely seen a better grown goose.”