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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes
The Man with the Twisted Lip
Capítulo 6, Página 8
"Some
years
ago—in
May,
1884,
to
be
precise—a
man
named
Neville
St.
Clair
came
to
Lee.
He
seemed
to
have
plenty
of
money.
He
took
a
large
villa,
fixed
up
the
grounds
nicely,
and
lived
well.
Over
time,
he
made
friends
in
the
area,
and
in
1887
he
married
the
daughter
of
a
local
brewer,
with
whom
he
now
has
two
children.
He
had
no
job,
but
he
was
interested
in
several
companies
and
usually
went
into
town
in
the
morning,
returning
by
the
5
o'clock
train
from
Cannon
Street
every
night.
Mr.
St.
Clair
is
now
thirty-seven
years
old,
a
man
with
moderate
habits,
a
good
husband,
a
loving
father,
and
popular
with
everyone
who
knows
him.
I
should
add
that
his
total
debts
right
now,
as
far
as
we
know,
are
£88
10s.,
while
he
has
£220
in
the
Capital
and
Counties
Bank.
So,
there's
no
reason
to
think
that
money
problems
have
been
troubling
him."
"Last
Monday,
Mr.
Neville
St.
Clair
went
into
town
earlier
than
usual,
saying
before
he
left
that
he
had
two
important
tasks
to
do
and
that
he
would
bring
his
little
boy
a
box
of
bricks.
By
chance,
his
wife
received
a
telegram
on
the
same
Monday,
shortly
after
he
left,
saying
that
a
small,
valuable
parcel
she
was
expecting
was
waiting
for
her
at
the
offices
of
the
Aberdeen
Shipping
Company.
Now,
if
you
know
your
London
well,
you'll
know
that
the
company's
office
is
in
Fresno
Street,
which
is
off
Upper
Swandam
Lane,
where
you
found
me
tonight.
Mrs.
St.
Clair
had
her
lunch,
went
to
the
City,
did
some
shopping,
went
to
the
company's
office,
got
her
package,
and
at
exactly
4
o'clock,
she
was
walking
through
Swandam
Lane
on
her
way
back
to
the
station.
Have
you
followed
me
so
far?"
"It
is
very
clear."
"Remember,
Monday
was
extremely
hot,
and
Mrs.
St.
Clair
walked
slowly,
looking
for
a
cab
because
she
didn't
like
the
area
she
was
in.
While
walking
down
Swandam
Lane,
she
suddenly
heard
a
cry
and
was
shocked
to
see
her
husband
looking
down
at
her
from
a
second-floor
window.
The
window
was
open,
and
she
clearly
saw
his
face,
which
looked
very
worried.
He
waved
his
hands
wildly
at
her
and
then
disappeared
from
the
window
so
quickly
that
it
seemed
like
someone
pulled
him
back.
She
noticed
that
although
he
wore
a
dark
coat
like
the
one
he
left
home
in,
he
had
no
collar
or
necktie."
"Sure
that
something
was
wrong
with
him,
she
rushed
down
the
steps
because
the
house
was
the
opium
den
where
you
found
me
tonight.
She
tried
to
go
up
the
stairs
to
the
first
floor.
At
the
bottom
of
the
stairs,
she
met
the
Lascar
man
I
mentioned,
who
pushed
her
back.
He
was
helped
by
a
Dane,
who
works
there,
and
they
forced
her
out
into
the
street.
Full
of
fear
and
doubt,
she
ran
down
the
lane
and
luckily
met
some
policemen
with
an
inspector
in
Fresno
Street.
The
inspector
and
two
men
went
back
with
her,
and
despite
the
owner's
resistance,
they
reached
the
room
where
Mr.
St.
Clair
was
last
seen.
There
was
no
sign
of
him.
In
fact,
there
was
no
one
on
that
floor
except
a
crippled
man
with
a
terrible
appearance,
who
lived
there.
Both
he
and
the
Lascar
swore
that
no
one
else
had
been
in
the
front
room
that
afternoon.
Their
denial
was
so
strong
that
the
inspector
almost
believed
Mrs.
St.
Clair
was
mistaken.
But
then,
with
a
cry,
she
grabbed
a
small
box
on
the
table
and
opened
it.
Out
fell
a
bunch
of
children's
bricks.
It
was
the
toy
he
promised
to
bring
home."
"This
discovery
and
the
cripple's
clear
confusion
made
the
inspector
realize
the
situation
was
serious.
The
rooms
were
carefully
checked,
and
everything
suggested
a
terrible
crime.
The
front
room
was
simply
furnished
as
a
sitting
room
and
led
to
a
small
bedroom,
which
faced
the
back
of
a
wharf.
Between
the
wharf
and
the
bedroom
window
was
a
narrow
strip,
dry
at
low
tide
but
covered
with
over
four
feet
of
water
at
high
tide.
The
bedroom
window
was
wide
and
opened
from
the
bottom.
Blood
traces
were
found
on
the
windowsill
and
some
drops
on
the
wooden
floor
of
the
bedroom.
Behind
a
curtain
in
the
front
room
were
all
Mr.
Neville
St.
Clair's
clothes,
except
for
his
coat.
His
boots,
socks,
hat,
and
watch
were
there.
There
were
no
signs
of
violence
on
these
clothes,
and
there
were
no
other
traces
of
Mr.
Neville
St.
Clair.
He
must
have
gone
out
of
the
window
since
no
other
exit
was
found,
and
the
bloodstains
on
the
sill
gave
little
hope
he
could
swim
to
safety,
as
the
tide
was
at
its
highest
during
the
incident."
"Now,
about
the
people
who
seemed
involved
in
this
case.
The
Lascar
was
known
to
have
a
bad
past,
but
Mrs.
St.
Clair
said
he
was
at
the
bottom
of
the
stairs
just
seconds
after
her
husband
appeared
at
the
window.
So,
he
could
only
be
an
accessory
to
the
crime.
He
claimed
complete
ignorance
and
said
he
didn't
know
what
Hugh
Boone,
his
lodger,
was
doing,
nor
could
he
explain
why
the
missing
man's
clothes
were
there."
"That's
about
the
Lascar
manager.
Now,
the
sinister
cripple
who
lives
on
the
second
floor
of
the
opium
den
was
certainly
the
last
person
to
see
Neville
St.
Clair.
His
name
is
Hugh
Boone,
and
his
awful
face
is
known
to
everyone
who
often
visits
the
City.
He
is
a
professional
beggar,
but
to
avoid
police
trouble,
he
pretends
to
sell
wax
matches.
A
little
way
down
Threadneedle
Street,
on
the
left,
there
is
a
small
corner
in
the
wall.
This
is
where
he
sits
daily,
cross-legged
with
his
small
stock
of
matches
on
his
lap.
As
he
is
a
sad
sight,
people
often
throw
coins
into
the
greasy
leather
cap
beside
him.
I
have
watched
him
before
I
knew
him,
and
I
was
surprised
by
how
much
he
collected
in
a
short
time.
His
appearance
is
so
striking
that
no
one
can
pass
without
noticing
him.
He
has
orange
hair,
a
pale
face
with
a
terrible
scar
that
lifts
his
upper
lip,
a
bulldog
chin,
and
very
sharp
dark
eyes,
which
contrast
with
his
hair.
His
wit
also
makes
him
stand
out,
as
he
always
has
a
quick
reply
for
any
joke
from
passersby.
This
is
the
man
who
was
the
lodger
at
the
opium
den
and
the
last
to
see
the
gentleman
we
are
looking
for."
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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes — B1 Inglés | Cuentana