2020-08-11 07:13:34  来源:人民网-人民日报海外版


下载北京彩票网【址:a g 9 559⒐ v i p】<  Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in thedirection of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but wassucceeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someonein the next room had lit a dark-lanten. I heard a gentle sound ofmovement, and then all was silent once more, though the smell grewstronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenlyanother sound became audible-a very gentle, soothing sound, likethat of a small jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle. Theinstant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck amatch, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-pull."You see it, Watson?" he yelled. "You see it?"   "Trevor senior was a widower, and my friend his only son."There had been a daughter, I heard, but she had died ofdiphtheria while on a visit to Birmingham. The father interested meextremely. He was a man of little culture, but with a considerableamount of rude strength, both physically and mentally. He knewhardly any books, but he had travelled far, had seen much of theworld, and had remembered all that he had learned. In person he wasa thick-set, burly man with a shock of grizzled hair, a brown,weather-beaten face, and blue eyes which were keen to the verge offierceness. Yet he had a reputation for kindness and charity on thecountryside, and was noted for the leniency of his sentences fromthe bench.

    I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr. Moriarty,who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of thosequestions which lie between us. He has been giving me a sketch ofthe methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himselfinformed of our movements. They certainly confirm the very highopinion which I had formed of his abilities. I am pleased to thinkthat I shall be able to free society from any further effects of hispresence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain tomy friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you. I have alreadyexplained to you, however, that my career had in any case reachedits crisis, and that no possible conclusion to it could be morecongenial to me than this. Indeed, if I may make a full confessionto you, I was quite convinced that the letter from Meiringen was ahoax, and I allowed you to depart on that errand under thepersuasion that some development of this sort would follow. TellInspector Patterson that the papers which he needs to convict the gangare in pigeonhole M., done up in a blue envelope and inscribed"Moriarty." I made every disposition of my property before leavingEngland and handed it to my brother Mycroft. Pray give my greetings toMrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow,

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   "I had only known her a few weeks."

    "My dear Watson," said he, "I cannot agree with those who rankmodesty among the virtues. To the logician all things should be seenexactly as they are, and to underestimate one's self is as much adeparture from truth as to exaggerate one's own powers. When I say,therefore, that Mycroft has better powers of observation than I, youmay take it that I am speaking the exact and literal truth.""Is he your junior?"

    "`Which dealer's?'

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   "In the waiting-room, sir."<  "I will, Miss Turner."

    "Now tell us of that last evening."

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   He held out his hand, and I saw in the light of the lamp that two ofhis knuckles were burst and bleeding.

    "Oh, you did, did you?"

<  "We have an inspector who makes a specialty of Saffron Hill andthe Italian Quarter. Well, this dead man had some Catholic emblemround his neck, and that, along with his colour, made me think hewas from the South. Inspector Hill knew him the moment he caught sightof him. His name is Pietro Venucci, from Naples, and he is one ofthe greatest cut-throats in London. He is connected with the Mafia,which, as you know, is a secret political society, enforcing itsdecrees by murder. Now, you see how the affair begins to clear up. Theother fellow is probably an Italian also, and a member of the Mafia.He has broken the rules in some fashion. Pietro is set upon his track.Probably the photograph we found in his pocket is the man himself,so that he may not knife the wrong person. He dogs the fellow, he seeshim enter a house, he waits outside for him, and in the scuffle hereceives his own death-wound. How is that, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"Holmes clapped his hands approvingly.   "I knew that they were watched."

    I was aware that by anything of interest, Holmes meant anything ofcriminal interest. There was the news of a revolution, of a possiblewar, and of an impending change of government; but these did notcome within the horizon of my companion. I could see nothingrecorded in the shape of crime which was not commonplace and futile.Holmes groaned and resumed his restless meanderings.


<  "`Why,' says he, `here's another vacancy on the League of theRed-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man whogets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than thereare men, so that the trustees are at their wits end what to dowith the money. If my hair would only change colour, here's anice little crib all ready for me to step into.'   "How long have you been in these rooms?"

    "Ha!" cried I, "if it is anything in the nature of a problem whichyou desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come tomy friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the official police.""Oh, I have heard of that fellow," answered my visitor, "and Ishould be very glad if he would take the matter up, though of course Imust use the official police as well. Would you give me anintroduction to him?"





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