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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes
The Man with the Twisted Lip
Capítulo 6, Página 10
"No,
sir,
but
the
facts
might
be
explained
convincingly
enough.
Suppose
Boone
pushed
Neville
St.
Clair
through
the
window.
No
one
could
have
seen
it.
What
would
he
do
next?
He'd
realize
he
must
get
rid
of
the
incriminating
clothes.
He'd
grab
the
coat
to
throw
it
out
but
realize
it
would
float.
Time
is
short;
he
hears
the
commotion
downstairs
as
the
wife
tries
to
get
up,
and
maybe
he’s
already
heard
from
his
Lascar
ally
that
the
police
are
coming.
There's
no
time
to
waste.
He
rushes
to
a
hidden
stash,
where
he
has
collected
coins
from
begging,
and
stuffs
as
many
as
he
can
into
the
pockets
to
ensure
the
coat
sinks.
He
throws
it
out
and
would
have
done
the
same
with
the
other
clothes
if
he
hadn't
heard
footsteps
below,
just
managing
to
close
the
window
before
the
police
arrive."
"It
certainly
sounds
plausible."
"Well,
let's
use
it
as
a
working
hypothesis
for
now.
Boone,
as
I've
told
you,
was
arrested
and
taken
to
the
station,
but
there
was
no
evidence
against
him
before.
He
had
been
known
as
a
professional
beggar
for
years,
but
his
life
seemed
quiet
and
innocent.
That's
where
things
stand,
and
the
questions
remain—what
Neville
St.
Clair
was
doing
in
the
opium
den,
what
happened
to
him
there,
where
he
is
now,
and
what
Hugh
Boone
had
to
do
with
his
disappearance—are
as
unsolved
as
ever.
I
must
admit,
I
can't
recall
any
case
that
seemed
so
simple
at
first
glance
yet
presented
such
challenges."
As
Sherlock
Holmes
detailed
this
strange
series
of
events,
we
drove
through
the
outskirts
of
the
town
until
the
last
scattered
houses
were
behind
us,
and
we
rattled
along
with
hedges
on
either
side.
Just
as
he
finished,
we
passed
through
two
small
villages,
where
a
few
lights
still
shone
in
the
windows.
"We
are
on
the
outskirts
of
Lee,"
said
my
companion.
"We've
crossed
three
English
counties
in
our
short
drive,
starting
in
Middlesex,
passing
through
a
corner
of
Surrey,
and
ending
in
Kent.
See
that
light
among
the
trees?
That's
The
Cedars,
and
beside
that
lamp
sits
a
woman
whose
anxious
ears
have
probably
already
heard
the
clink
of
our
horse's
hooves."
"But
why
aren't
you
handling
the
case
from
Baker
Street?"
I
asked.
"Because
there
are
many
inquiries
to
be
made
out
here.
Mrs.
St.
Clair
has
kindly
offered
me
two
rooms,
and
you
can
be
sure
she
will
welcome
my
friend
and
colleague.
I
dread
meeting
her,
Watson,
without
news
of
her
husband.
Here
we
are.
Whoa,
there,
whoa!"
We
stopped
in
front
of
a
large
villa
within
its
own
grounds.
A
stable-boy
ran
out
to
the
horse's
head,
and
I
jumped
down,
following
Holmes
up
the
winding
gravel
drive
leading
to
the
house.
As
we
approached,
the
door
flew
open,
and
a
small
blonde
woman
stood
there,
dressed
in
a
light
mousseline
de
soie
with
pink
chiffon
at
her
neck
and
wrists.
She
stood
outlined
against
the
light,
one
hand
on
the
door,
one
half-raised
in
eagerness,
her
body
slightly
bent,
her
head
and
face
leaning
forward,
with
eager
eyes
and
parted
lips,
silently
asking
a
question.
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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes — B2 Inglés | Cuentana