Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Priory School
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“Oh!heimpressedyouinthatway,didhe?Therearethehorses,thereisthesmithy.Yes,itisaninterestingplace,thisFightingCock.Ithinkweshallhaveanotherlookatitinanunobtrusiveway.”
Along,slopinghillside,dottedwithgreylimestoneboulders,stretchedbehindus.Wehadturnedofftheroad,andweremakingourwayupthehill,when,lookinginthedirectionofHoldernesseHall,Isawacyclistcomingswiftlyalong.
“Getdown,Watson!”criedHolmes,withaheavyhanduponmyshoulder.Wehadhardlysunkfromviewwhenthemanflewpastusontheroad.Amidarollingcloudofdust,Icaughtaglimpseofapale,agitatedface—afacewithhorrorineverylineament,themouthopen,theeyesstaringwildlyinfront.ItwaslikesomestrangecaricatureofthedapperJamesWilderwhomwehadseenthenightbefore.
“TheDuke’ssecretary!”criedHolmes.“Come,Watson,letusseewhathedoes.”
Wescrambledfromrocktorock,untilinafewmomentswehadmadeourwaytoapointfromwhichwecouldseethefrontdooroftheinn.Wilder’sbicyclewasleaningagainstthewallbesideit.Noonewasmovingaboutthehouse,norcouldwecatchaglimpseofanyfacesatthewindows.SlowlythetwilightcreptdownasthesunsankbehindthehightowersofHoldernesseHall.Then,inthegloom,wesawthetwoside-lampsofatraplightupinthestable-yardoftheinn,andshortlyafterwardsheardtherattleofhoofs,asitwheeledoutintotheroadandtoreoffatafuriouspaceinthedirectionofChesterfield.
“Whatdoyoumakeofthat,Watson?”Holmeswhispered.
