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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes
The Five Orange Pips
Capítulo 5, Página 5
The
young
man
pulled
his
chair
up
and
pushed
his
wet
feet
out
towards
the
blaze.
“My
name,”
said
he,
“is
John
Openshaw,
but
my
own
affairs
have,
as
far
as
I
can
understand,
little
to
do
with
this
awful
business.
It
is
a
hereditary
matter;
so
in
order
to
give
you
an
idea
of
the
facts,
I
must
go
back
to
the
commencement
of
the
affair.”
“You
must
know
that
my
grandfather
had
two
sons—my
uncle
Elias
and
my
father
Joseph.
My
father
had
a
small
factory
at
Coventry,
which
he
enlarged
at
the
time
of
the
invention
of
bicycling.
He
was
a
patentee
of
the
Openshaw
unbreakable
tire,
and
his
business
met
with
such
success
that
he
was
able
to
sell
it
and
to
retire
upon
a
handsome
competence.”
“My
uncle
Elias
emigrated
to
America
when
he
was
a
young
man
and
became
a
planter
in
Florida,
where
he
was
reported
to
have
done
very
well.
At
the
time
of
the
war
he
fought
in
Jackson’s
army,
and
afterwards
under
Hood,
where
he
rose
to
be
a
colonel.
When
Lee
laid
down
his
arms
my
uncle
returned
to
his
plantation,
where
he
remained
for
three
or
four
years.
About
1869
or
1870
he
came
back
to
Europe
and
took
a
small
estate
in
Sussex,
near
Horsham.
He
had
made
a
very
considerable
fortune
in
the
States,
and
his
reason
for
leaving
them
was
his
aversion
to
the
negroes,
and
his
dislike
of
the
Republican
policy
in
extending
the
franchise
to
them.
He
was
a
singular
man,
fierce
and
quick-tempered,
very
foul-mouthed
when
he
was
angry,
and
of
a
most
retiring
disposition.
During
all
the
years
that
he
lived
at
Horsham,
I
doubt
if
ever
he
set
foot
in
the
town.
He
had
a
garden
and
two
or
three
fields
round
his
house,
and
there
he
would
take
his
exercise,
though
very
often
for
weeks
on
end
he
would
never
leave
his
room.
He
drank
a
great
deal
of
brandy
and
smoked
very
heavily,
but
he
would
see
no
society
and
did
not
want
any
friends,
not
even
his
own
brother.”
“He
didn’t
mind
me;
in
fact,
he
took
a
fancy
to
me,
for
at
the
time
when
he
saw
me
first
I
was
a
youngster
of
twelve
or
so.
This
would
be
in
the
year
1878,
after
he
had
been
eight
or
nine
years
in
England.
He
begged
my
father
to
let
me
live
with
him
and
he
was
very
kind
to
me
in
his
way.
When
he
was
sober
he
used
to
be
fond
of
playing
backgammon
and
draughts
with
me,
and
he
would
make
me
his
representative
both
with
the
servants
and
with
the
tradespeople,
so
that
by
the
time
that
I
was
sixteen
I
was
quite
master
of
the
house.
I
kept
all
the
keys
and
could
go
where
I
liked
and
do
what
I
liked,
so
long
as
I
did
not
disturb
him
in
his
privacy.
There
was
one
singular
exception,
however,
for
he
had
a
single
room,
a
lumber-room
up
among
the
attics,
which
was
invariably
locked,
and
which
he
would
never
permit
either
me
or
anyone
else
to
enter.
With
a
boy’s
curiosity
I
have
peeped
through
the
keyhole,
but
I
was
never
able
to
see
more
than
such
a
collection
of
old
trunks
and
bundles
as
would
be
expected
in
such
a
room.”
“One
day—it
was
in
March,
1883—a
letter
with
a
foreign
stamp
lay
upon
the
table
in
front
of
the
colonel’s
plate.
It
was
not
a
common
thing
for
him
to
receive
letters,
for
his
bills
were
all
paid
in
ready
money,
and
he
had
no
friends
of
any
sort.
‘From
India!’
said
he
as
he
took
it
up,
‘Pondicherry
postmark!
What
can
this
be?’
Opening
it
hurriedly,
out
there
jumped
five
little
dried
orange
pips,
which
pattered
down
upon
his
plate.
I
began
to
laugh
at
this,
but
the
laugh
was
struck
from
my
lips
at
the
sight
of
his
face.
His
lip
had
fallen,
his
eyes
were
protruding,
his
skin
the
colour
of
putty,
and
he
glared
at
the
envelope
which
he
still
held
in
his
trembling
hand,
‘K.
K.
K.!’
he
shrieked,
and
then,
‘My
God,
my
God,
my
sins
have
overtaken
me!’”
“‘What
is
it,
uncle?’
I
cried.”
“‘Death,’
said
he,
and
rising
from
the
table
he
retired
to
his
room,
leaving
me
palpitating
with
horror.
I
took
up
the
envelope
and
saw
scrawled
in
red
ink
upon
the
inner
flap,
just
above
the
gum,
the
letter
K
three
times
repeated.
There
was
nothing
else
save
the
five
dried
pips.
What
could
be
the
reason
of
his
overpowering
terror?
I
left
the
breakfast-table,
and
as
I
ascended
the
stair
I
met
him
coming
down
with
an
old
rusty
key,
which
must
have
belonged
to
the
attic,
in
one
hand,
and
a
small
brass
box,
like
a
cashbox,
in
the
other.”
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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes — C1 Inglés | Cuentana