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- Артур Конан Дойл
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- Воспоминания Шерлока Холмса
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- Стр. 109/238
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We
passed
the
pretty
cottage
where
the
murdered
man
had
lived
and
walked
up
an
oak-lined
avenue
to
the
fine
old
Queen
Anne
house
,
which
bears
the
date
of
Malplaquet
upon
the
lintel
of
the
door
.
Holmes
and
the
inspector
led
us
round
it
until
we
came
to
the
side
gate
,
which
is
separated
by
a
stretch
of
garden
from
the
hedge
which
lines
the
road
.
A
constable
was
standing
at
the
kitchen
door
.
"
Throw
the
door
open
,
officer
,
"
said
Holmes
.
"
Now
,
it
was
on
those
stairs
that
young
Mr.
Cunningham
stood
and
saw
the
two
men
struggling
just
where
we
are
.
Old
Mr.
Cunningham
was
at
that
window
--
the
second
on
the
left
--
and
he
saw
the
fellow
get
away
just
to
the
left
of
that
bush
.
So
did
the
son
.
They
are
both
sure
of
it
on
account
of
the
bush
.
Then
Mr.
Alec
ran
out
and
knelt
beside
the
wounded
man
.
The
ground
is
very
hard
,
you
see
,
and
there
are
no
marks
to
guide
us
.
"
As
he
spoke
two
men
came
down
the
garden
path
,
from
round
the
angle
of
the
house
.
The
one
was
an
elderly
man
,
with
a
strong
,
deep-lined
,
heavy-eyed
face
;
the
other
a
dashing
young
fellow
,
whose
bright
,
smiling
expression
and
showy
dress
were
in
strange
contrast
with
the
business
which
had
brought
us
there
.
"
Still
at
it
,
then
?
"
said
he
to
Holmes
.
"
I
thought
you
Londoners
were
never
at
fault
.
You
do
n't
seem
to
be
so
very
quick
,
after
all
.
"
"
Ah
,
you
must
give
us
a
little
time
,
"
said
Holmes
good-humouredly
.
"
You
'll
want
it
,
"
said
young
Alec
Cunningham
.
"
Why
,
I
do
n't
see
that
we
have
any
clue
at
all
.
"
"
There
's
only
one
,
"
answered
the
inspector
.
"
We
thought
that
if
we
could
only
find
--
Good
heavens
.
Mr.
Holmes
!
what
is
the
matter
?
"
My
poor
friend
's
face
had
suddenly
assumed
the
most
dreadful
expression
.
His
eyes
rolled
upward
,
his
features
writhed
in
agony
,
and
with
a
suppressed
groan
he
dropped
on
his
face
upon
the
ground
.
Horrified
at
the
suddenness
and
severity
of
the
attack
,
we
carried
him
into
the
kitchen
,
where
he
lay
back
in
a
large
chair
and
breathed
heavily
for
some
minutes
.
Finally
,
with
a
shamefaced
apology
for
his
weakness
,
he
rose
once
more
.
"
Watson
would
tell
you
that
I
have
only
just
recovered
from
a
severe
illness
,
"
he
explained
.
"
I
am
liable
to
these
sudden
nervous
attacks
.
"
"
Shall
I
send
you
home
in
my
trap
?
"
asked
old
Cunningham
.
