EN + ES
Escuchar
60
Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes
A Case of Identity
Capítulo 3, Página 1
“My
dear
fellow,”
said
Sherlock
Holmes
as
we
sat
on
either
side
of
the
fire
in
his
lodgings
at
Baker
Street,
“life
is
infinitely
stranger
than
anything
which
the
mind
of
man
could
invent.
We
would
not
dare
to
conceive
the
things
which
are
really
mere
commonplaces
of
existence.
If
we
could
fly
out
of
that
window
hand
in
hand,
hover
over
this
great
city,
gently
remove
the
roofs,
and
peep
in
at
the
queer
things
which
are
going
on,
the
strange
coincidences,
the
plannings,
the
cross-purposes,
the
wonderful
chains
of
events,
working
through
generations,
and
leading
to
the
most
outré
results,
it
would
make
all
fiction
with
its
conventionalities
and
foreseen
conclusions
most
stale
and
unprofitable.”
“And
yet
I
am
not
convinced
of
it,”
I
answered.
“The
cases
which
come
to
light
in
the
papers
are,
as
a
rule,
bald
enough,
and
vulgar
enough.
We
have
in
our
police
reports
realism
pushed
to
its
extreme
limits,
and
yet
the
result
is,
it
must
be
confessed,
neither
fascinating
nor
artistic.”
“A
certain
selection
and
discretion
must
be
used
in
producing
a
realistic
effect,”
remarked
Holmes.
“This
is
wanting
in
the
police
report,
where
more
stress
is
laid,
perhaps,
upon
the
platitudes
of
the
magistrate
than
upon
the
details,
which
to
an
observer
contain
the
vital
essence
of
the
whole
matter.
Depend
upon
it,
there
is
nothing
so
unnatural
as
the
commonplace.”
I
smiled
and
shook
my
head.
“I
can
quite
understand
your
thinking
so,”
I
said.
“Of
course,
in
your
position
of
unofficial
adviser
and
helper
to
everybody
who
is
absolutely
puzzled,
throughout
three
continents,
you
are
brought
in
contact
with
all
that
is
strange
and
bizarre.
But
here”—I
picked
up
the
morning
paper
from
the
ground—“let
us
put
it
to
a
practical
test.
Here
is
the
first
heading
upon
which
I
come.
‘A
husband’s
cruelty
to
his
wife.’
There
is
half
a
column
of
print,
but
I
know
without
reading
it
that
it
is
all
perfectly
familiar
to
me.
There
is,
of
course,
the
other
woman,
the
drink,
the
push,
the
blow,
the
bruise,
the
sympathetic
sister
or
landlady.
The
crudest
of
writers
could
invent
nothing
more
crude.”
“Indeed,
your
example
is
an
unfortunate
one
for
your
argument,”
said
Holmes,
taking
the
paper
and
glancing
his
eye
down
it.
“This
is
the
Dundas
separation
case,
and,
as
it
happens,
I
was
engaged
in
clearing
up
some
small
points
in
connection
with
it.
The
husband
was
a
teetotaler,
there
was
no
other
woman,
and
the
conduct
complained
of
was
that
he
had
drifted
into
the
habit
of
winding
up
every
meal
by
taking
out
his
false
teeth
and
hurling
them
at
his
wife,
which,
you
will
allow,
is
not
an
action
likely
to
occur
to
the
imagination
of
the
average
story-teller.
Take
a
pinch
of
snuff,
Doctor,
and
acknowledge
that
I
have
scored
over
you
in
your
example.”
He
held
out
his
snuffbox
of
old
gold,
with
a
great
amethyst
in
the
centre
of
the
lid.
Its
splendour
was
in
such
contrast
to
his
homely
ways
and
simple
life
that
I
could
not
help
commenting
upon
it.
“Ah,”
said
he,
“I
forgot
that
I
had
not
seen
you
for
some
weeks.
It
is
a
little
souvenir
from
the
King
of
Bohemia
in
return
for
my
assistance
in
the
case
of
the
Irene
Adler
papers.”
“And
the
ring?”
I
asked,
glancing
at
a
remarkable
brilliant
which
sparkled
upon
his
finger.
||
||
Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes — C1 Inglés | Cuentana