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МенюSherlock Holmes. An Unknown Story. (на английском)
My wife Tina’s passion of spending her free time in
museums could have been welcomed, had it not been for one thing: she always
wants me to accompany her. And I don’t really like this.
One evening nothing seemed to portend a disaster. Tina
was leafing through The Times, when she suddenly said "Is the Sherlock Holmes
museum really situated at 221B, Baker Street?”
"So it begins”, thought I and muttered under my breath
"Newspapers can write anything. I guess, it’s a hoax”. Although I knew, that
the Sherlock Holmes museum was indeed established at 221B, Baker Street in
1990.
"They write here, that it’s in the house built in
1815, and that building is included in Her Majesty’s list of buildings of
architectural and historical importance”.
Further resistance was futile and I asked her, sighing
"When?”
"How about tomorrow, what do you think? We would have
some great time!” she was absolutely not surprised by my agreement and took it
for granted, and raised her right thumb as a sign of her satisfaction.
But not everything was lost, thought I, as I still had
a choice: either "to agree with pleasure” or "with pleasure to agree”. As the
head of the family and having the deciding vote, I chose both.
At the museum we were met by an elderly (just as I am
now) man with a Conan Doyle pipe
in his mouth. And he began fervently to tell us everything we already knew from
the books by Arthur Conan Doyle. I moodily followed him and pretended to be
absolutely absorbed in his stories, when I suddenly saw a basket full of
yellowish papers covered with writings. At that moment Tina and the guide
entered into polemics, demonstrating their vast knowledge of the Sherlock
Holmes stories, and went to some stands in the other room. I, being left alone,
started looking through the papers. The writing was illegible. Almost
undecipherable texts looked like someone’s thoughts with slight remarks here
and there, and sometimes different versions of one and the same sentence. Still
looking through the papers, I fished out a large sheet, completely covered with
terrible writings on both sides. I could only decipher dots. I folded it up and
put it into my pocket.
Saying goodbye to us the self-satisfied guide saw the
basket and changed his countenance.
"That Madlen”, muttered he, "she left Sir Arthur’s
manuscripts again”.
I decide not to tell Tina of my improper deed, knowing
her temper, so, when we got home, I hid in my room and started to decipher the
manuscript. I’ve been poring over it for more than a month. I would come late
for work and would run from it earlier, I would wake up at daybreak and would
go to sleep at first light. But I succeeded.
And now, a hundred and twenty years later, the
readership can see an unknown creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. So, make
yourself comfortable…
"Mrs. Alice told me that story, but she asked me to
keep it secret, while uncle Michael, aunt Polly’s cousin and the hero of this
story, is alive. So I lay aside the manuscript until I receive the news of his
death. (Such is the preface to the story by the famous author.) of badgesamd magnets in Toronto
In autumn 1891,
just before lunch Sherlock Holmesreceived a note from one Mrs. Stella with a request to see him immediately on
an urgent matter. Studying the letter the experienced detective determined that
there was something extraordinary in this case and decided to meet Mrs. Stella
at once. In an hour Mrs. Stella’s carriage stopped by the house and she was
admitted to the detective’s study.
Mrs. Stella sat in an armchair and said: "Mr. Holmes,
you must have heard about the murder of the draper’s factory owner, Mr.
Douglas, three days ago. He was my husband”.
"Yes, of course, I heard about that. I’m sorry, but I
don’t understand how I can help you. As far as I know Scotland-Yard has taken
up this matter”.
Mrs. Stella smiled "They start to think the criminal
cannot be found by any means…”
"You are exaggerating my abilities. I might not be
able to help you”.
"I’m sure you will help. I have a clue ignored by the
police. It will definitely help you”.
"And what’s that?”
"A badge,
just a badge that was on the
crime scene. I noticed that it was lying under the broken magnolia branch.
Perhaps it fell out of the criminal’s pocket, when he was running away and his
jacket caught and broke the branch”.
"You’re showing extraordinary abilities”, said
Sherlock Holmes with a smile. "Do you have the badge with you now?”
"Yes, here you are”, Mrs. Stella took the badge from her purse and handed it to
the detective.
He studied it carefully and took the magnifying glass.
Some minutes later he said: "As far as I know there was an exhibition of
private collection of badges in Torontoand souvenirs at the British museum. It could have been stolen from there. The
clasp of the badge still has
hair of the material it was pinned to. The criminal tore it off without
unclasping it”.
Mr. Holmes carefully put the badge on the table and asked Mrs. Stella, "Your husband was an
inveterate collector as well, wasn’t he? He had a large number of exotic
souvenirs”.
"Yes, he has been collecting rare badges for years, just like my uncle
Michael. But why are you saying "as well”?”
"Because the criminal is also a collector. That
ill-fated night your husband’s suitcase went missing, if I’m not mistaken. Did
it hold his collections?”
"Yes, that was the case where my husband kept his
collections, but that night he carried an empty case: the collections are safe
and sound in my husband’s personal safe, and I have the keys. I hid them in a
reliable place”.
"But the criminal didn’t know that, he thought he
would become the owner of a rare collection, but he went wrong in his
counting”, said Sherlock Holmes and stood up, meaning that the audience came to
its end. But seeing the confused face of Mrs. Stella he went on.
Рег.№ 0149395 от 21 декабря 2013 в 00:05
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