Этюд в багровых тонах

           SherlockHolmeschuckledtohimself,andappearedtobeabouttomakesomeremark,whenLestrade,whohadbeeninthefrontroomwhilewewereholdingthisconversationinthehall,reappeareduponthescene,rubbinghishandsinapompousandself-satisfiedmanner. 

           “Mr.Gregson,”hesaid,“Ihavejustmadeadiscoveryofthehighestimportance,andonewhichwouldhavebeenoverlookedhadInotmadeacarefulexaminationofthewalls.” 

           Thelittleman’seyessparkledashespoke,andhewasevidentlyinastateofsuppressedexultationathavingscoredapointagainsthiscolleague. 

           “Comehere,”hesaid,bustlingbackintotheroom,theatmosphereofwhichfeltclearersincetheremovalofitsghastlyinmate. “Now,standthere!” 

           Hestruckamatchonhisbootandhelditupagainstthewall. 

           “Lookatthat!”hesaid,triumphantly. 

           Ihaveremarkedthatthepaperhadfallenawayinparts. Inthisparticularcorneroftheroomalargepiecehadpeeledoff,leavingayellowsquareofcoarseplastering. Acrossthisbarespacetherewasscrawledinblood-redlettersasingleword— 

           RACHE. 

           “Whatdoyouthinkofthat?”criedthedetective,withtheairofashowmanexhibitinghisshow. “Thiswasoverlookedbecauseitwasinthedarkestcorneroftheroom,andnoonethoughtoflookingthere. Themurdererhaswrittenitwithhisorherownblood. Seethissmearwhereithastrickleddownthewall! Thatdisposesoftheideaofsuicideanyhow. Whywasthatcornerchosentowriteiton? Iwilltellyou.