Воспоминания Шерлока Холмса
The Musgrave Ritual
Bruntonthenunlockedthebox,handedupthecontentspresumably—sincetheywerenottobefound—andthen—andthenwhathappened?
"WhatsmoulderingfireofvengeancehadsuddenlysprungintoflameinthispassionateCelticwoman’ssoulwhenshesawthemanwhohadwrongedher==wrongedher,perhaps,farmorethanwesuspected—inherpower?WasitachancethatthewoodhadslippedandthatthestonehadshutBruntonintowhathadbecomehissepulchre?Hadsheonlybeenguiltyofsilenceastohisfate?Orhadsomesuddenblowfromherhanddashedthesupportawayandsenttheslabcrashingdownintoitsplace?Bethatasitmight,Iseemedtoseethatwoman’sfigurestillclutchingathertreasuretroveandflyingwildlyupthewindingstair,withherearsringingperhapswiththemuffledscreamsfrombehindherandwiththedrummingoffrenziedhandsagainsttheslabofstonewhichwaschokingherfaithlesslover’slifeout.
"Herewasthesecretofherblanchedface,hershakennerves,herpealsofhystericallaughteronthenextmorning.Butwhathadbeeninthebox?Whathadshedonewiththat?Ofcourse,itmusthavebeentheoldmetalandpebbleswhichmyclienthaddraggedfromthemere.Shehadthrowntheminthereatthefirstopportunitytoremovethelasttraceofhercrime.
"FortwentyminutesIhadsatmotionless,thinkingthematterout.Musgravestillstoodwithaverypaleface,swinginghislanternandpeeringdownintothehole.
