EN + ES
Escuchar
51
Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes
The Red-Headed League
Capítulo 2, Página 19
“The
knees
of
his
trousers.”
“And
what
did
you
see?”
“What
I
expected
to
see.”
“Why
did
you
beat
the
pavement?”
“My
dear
doctor,
this
is
a
time
for
observation,
not
for
talk.
We
are
spies
in
an
enemy’s
country.
We
know
something
of
Saxe-Coburg
Square.
Let
us
now
explore
the
parts
which
lie
behind
it.”
The
road
in
which
we
found
ourselves
as
we
turned
round
the
corner
from
the
retired
Saxe-Coburg
Square
presented
as
great
a
contrast
to
it
as
the
front
of
a
picture
does
to
the
back.
It
was
one
of
the
main
arteries
which
conveyed
the
traffic
of
the
City
to
the
north
and
west.
The
roadway
was
blocked
with
the
immense
stream
of
commerce
flowing
in
a
double
tide
inward
and
outward,
while
the
footpaths
were
black
with
the
hurrying
swarm
of
pedestrians.
It
was
difficult
to
realise
as
we
looked
at
the
line
of
fine
shops
and
stately
business
premises
that
they
really
abutted
on
the
other
side
upon
the
faded
and
stagnant
square
which
we
had
just
quitted.
“Let
me
see,”
said
Holmes,
standing
at
the
corner
and
glancing
along
the
line,
“I
should
like
just
to
remember
the
order
of
the
houses
here.
It
is
a
hobby
of
mine
to
have
an
exact
knowledge
of
London.
There
is
Mortimer’s,
the
tobacconist,
the
little
newspaper
shop,
the
Coburg
branch
of
the
City
and
Suburban
Bank,
the
Vegetarian
Restaurant,
and
McFarlane’s
carriage-building
depot.
That
carries
us
right
on
to
the
other
block.
And
now,
Doctor,
we’ve
done
our
work,
so
it’s
time
we
had
some
play.
A
sandwich
and
a
cup
of
coffee,
and
then
off
to
violin-land,
where
all
is
sweetness
and
delicacy
and
harmony,
and
there
are
no
red-headed
clients
to
vex
us
with
their
conundrums.”
My
friend
was
an
enthusiastic
musician,
being
himself
not
only
a
very
capable
performer
but
a
composer
of
no
ordinary
merit.
All
the
afternoon
he
sat
in
the
stalls
wrapped
in
the
most
perfect
happiness,
gently
waving
his
long,
thin
fingers
in
time
to
the
music,
while
his
gently
smiling
face
and
his
languid,
dreamy
eyes
were
as
unlike
those
of
Holmes
the
sleuth-hound,
Holmes
the
relentless,
keen-witted,
ready-handed
criminal
agent,
as
it
was
possible
to
conceive.
In
his
singular
character
the
dual
nature
alternately
asserted
itself,
and
his
extreme
exactness
and
astuteness
represented,
as
I
have
often
thought,
the
reaction
against
the
poetic
and
contemplative
mood
which
occasionally
predominated
in
him.
The
swing
of
his
nature
took
him
from
extreme
languor
to
devouring
energy;
and,
as
I
knew
well,
he
was
never
so
truly
formidable
as
when,
for
days
on
end,
he
had
been
lounging
in
his
armchair
amid
his
improvisations
and
his
black-letter
editions.
Then
it
was
that
the
lust
of
the
chase
would
suddenly
come
upon
him,
and
that
his
brilliant
reasoning
power
would
rise
to
the
level
of
intuition,
until
those
who
were
unacquainted
with
his
methods
would
look
askance
at
him
as
on
a
man
whose
knowledge
was
not
that
of
other
mortals.
When
I
saw
him
that
afternoon
so
enwrapped
in
the
music
at
St.
James’s
Hall
I
felt
that
an
evil
time
might
be
coming
upon
those
whom
he
had
set
himself
to
hunt
down.
||
||
Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes — C1 Inglés | Cuentana