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- Артур Конан Дойл
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- Tales of Terror and Mystery
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- Стр. 39/137
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It
was
a
mean
-
looking
house
in
a
narrow
and
sordid
street
.
The
surgeon
,
who
knew
his
London
well
,
cast
a
swift
glance
into
the
shadows
,
but
there
was
nothing
distinctive
—
no
shop
,
no
movement
,
nothing
but
a
double
line
of
dull
,
flat
-
faced
houses
,
a
double
stretch
of
wet
flagstones
which
gleamed
in
the
lamplight
,
and
a
double
rush
of
water
in
the
gutters
which
swirled
and
gurgled
towards
the
sewer
gratings
.
The
door
which
faced
them
was
blotched
and
discoloured
,
and
a
faint
light
in
the
fan
pane
above
,
it
served
to
show
the
dust
and
the
grime
which
covered
it
.
Above
in
one
of
the
bedroom
windows
,
there
was
a
dull
yellow
glimmer
.
The
merchant
knocked
loudly
,
and
,
as
he
turned
his
dark
face
towards
the
light
,
Douglas
Stone
could
see
that
it
was
contracted
with
anxiety
.
A
bolt
was
drawn
,
and
an
elderly
woman
with
a
taper
stood
in
the
doorway
,
shielding
the
thin
flame
with
her
gnarled
hand
.
"
Is
all
well
?
"
gasped
the
merchant
.
"
She
is
as
you
left
her
,
sir
.
"
"
She
has
not
spoken
?
"
"
No
,
she
is
in
a
deep
sleep
.
"
The
merchant
closed
the
door
,
and
Douglas
Stone
walked
down
the
narrow
passage
,
glancing
about
him
in
some
surprise
as
he
did
so
.
There
was
no
oil
-
cloth
,
no
mat
,
no
hat
-
rack
.
Deep
grey
dust
and
heavy
festoons
of
cobwebs
met
his
eyes
everywhere
.
Following
the
old
woman
up
the
winding
stair
,
his
firm
footfall
echoed
harshly
through
the
silent
house
.
There
was
no
carpet
.
The
bedroom
was
on
the
second
landing
.
Douglas
Stone
followed
the
old
nurse
into
it
,
with
the
merchant
at
his
heels
.
Here
,
at
least
,
there
was
furniture
and
to
spare
.
The
floor
was
littered
and
the
corners
piled
with
Turkish
cabinets
,
inlaid
tables
,
coats
of
chain
mail
,
strange
pipes
,
and
grotesque
weapons
.
A
single
small
lamp
stood
upon
a
bracket
on
the
wall
.
Douglas
Stone
took
it
down
,
and
picking
his
way
among
the
lumber
,
walked
over
to
a
couch
in
the
corner
,
on
which
lay
a
woman
dressed
in
the
Turkish
fashion
,
with
yashmak
and
veil
.
The
lower
part
of
the
face
was
exposed
,
and
the
surgeon
saw
a
jagged
cut
which
zigzagged
along
the
border
of
the
under
lip
.
"
You
will
forgive
the
yashmak
,
"
said
the
Turk
.
"
You
know
our
views
about
women
in
the
East
.
"
But
the
surgeon
was
not
thinking
about
the
yashmak
.
This
was
no
longer
a
woman
to
him
.
It
was
a
case
.
He
stooped
and
examined
the
wound
carefully
.
