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Description
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Publié par | Pub One Info |
Date de parution | 23 octobre 2010 |
Nombre de lectures | 0 |
EAN13 | 9782819911760 |
Langue | English |
Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.
Extrait
ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA
I.
To Sherlock Holmes she is always THE woman. I haveseldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes sheeclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that hefelt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, andthat one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise butadmirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfectreasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as alover he would have placed himself in a false position. He neverspoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. Theywere admirable things for the observer - excellent for drawing theveil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained teasonerto admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjustedtemperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throwa doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitiveinstrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, wouldnot be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such ashis. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was thelate Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.
I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage haddrifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and thehome-centred interests which rise up around the man who first findshimself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorball my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of societywith his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in BakerStreet, buried among his old books, and alternating from week toweek between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, andthe fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever,deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immensefaculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following outthose clews, and clearing up those mysteries which had beenabandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time Iheard some vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa inthe case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singulartragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of themission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfullyfor the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of hisactivity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers ofthe daily press, I knew little of my former friend andcompanion.
One night - it was on the twentieth of March, 1888 -I was returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returnedto civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As Ipassed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated inmy mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study inScarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, andto know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. His roomswere brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall,spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. Hewas pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon hischest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his everymood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. Hewas at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams andwas hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell and wasshown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own.
His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but hewas glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with akindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case ofcigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner.Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singularintrospective fashion.
"Wedlock suits you," he remarked. "I think, Watson,that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you."
"Seven!" I answered.
"Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just atrifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. Youdid not tell me that you intended to go into harness."
"Then, how do you know?"
"I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you havebeen getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a mostclumsy and careless servant girl?"
"My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. Youwould certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuriesago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came homein a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can'timagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible,and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to seehow you work it out."
He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervoushands together.
"It is simplicity itself," said he; "my eyes tell methat on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelightstrikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts.Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelesslyscraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mudfrom it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been outin vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignantboot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice,if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with ablack mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and abulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he hassecreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do notpronounce him to be an active member of the medicalprofession."
I could not help laughing at the ease with which heexplained his process of deduction. "When I hear you give yourreasons," I remarked, "the thing always appears to me to be soridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though ateach successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until youexplain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good asyours."
"Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, andthrowing himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do notobserve. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequentlyseen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room."
"Frequently."
"How often?"
"Well, some hundreds of times."
"Then how many are there?"
"How many? I don't know."
"Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you haveseen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeensteps, because I have both seen and observed. By-the-way, since youare interested in these little problems, and since you are goodenough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you maybe interested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tintednote-paper which had been lying open upon the table. "It came bythe last post," said he. "Read it aloud."
The note was undated, and without either signatureor address.
"There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter toeight o'clock," it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult youupon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services toone of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one whomay safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance whichcan hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from allquarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do nottake it amiss if your visitor wear a mask.
"This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do youimagine that it means?"
"I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake totheorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist factsto suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the noteitself. What do you deduce from it?"
I carefully examined the writing, and the paper uponwhich it was written.
"The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," Iremarked, endeavoring to imitate my companion's processes. "Suchpaper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It ispeculiarly strong and stiff."
"Peculiar - that is the very word," said Holmes. "Itis not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light."
I did so, and saw a large "E" with a small "g," a"P," and a large "G" with a small "t" woven into the texture of thepaper.
"What do you make of that?" asked Holmes.
"The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram,rather."
"Not at all. The 'G' with the small 't' stands for'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for 'Company.' It is acustomary contraction like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let us glance at our ContinentalGazetteer." He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves."Eglow, Eglonitz - here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speakingcountry - in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as beingthe scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerousglass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha, ha, my boy, what do you makeof that?" His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphantcloud from his cigarette.
"The paper was made in Bohemia," I said.
"Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is aGerman. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence -'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' AFrenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the Germanwho is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, todiscover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemianpaper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here hecomes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts."
As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses'hoofs and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pullat the bell. Holmes whistled.
"A pair, by the sound," said he. "Yes," hecontinued, glancing out of the window. "A nice little brougham anda pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There'smoney in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else."
"I think that I had better go, Holmes."
"Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lostwithout my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It wouldbe a pity to miss it."
"But your client - "
"Never mind him. I may w