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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes
The Man with the Twisted Lip
Capítulo 6, Página 1
Isa
Whitney,
brother
of
the
late
Elias
Whitney,
D.
D.,
Principal
of
the
Theological
College
of
St.
George’s,
was
much
addicted
to
opium.
The
habit
grew
upon
him,
as
I
understand,
from
some
foolish
freak
when
he
was
at
college;
for
having
read
De
Quincey’s
description
of
his
dreams
and
sensations,
he
had
drenched
his
tobacco
with
laudanum
in
an
attempt
to
produce
the
same
effects.
He
found,
as
so
many
more
have
done,
that
the
practice
is
easier
to
attain
than
to
get
rid
of,
and
for
many
years
he
continued
to
be
a
slave
to
the
drug,
an
object
of
mingled
horror
and
pity
to
his
friends
and
relatives.
I
can
see
him
now,
with
yellow,
pasty
face,
drooping
lids,
and
pin-point
pupils,
all
huddled
in
a
chair,
the
wreck
and
ruin
of
a
noble
man.
One
night—it
was
in
June,
’89—there
came
a
ring
to
my
bell,
about
the
hour
when
a
man
gives
his
first
yawn
and
glances
at
the
clock.
I
sat
up
in
my
chair,
and
my
wife
laid
her
needle-work
down
in
her
lap
and
made
a
little
face
of
disappointment.
“A
patient!”
said
she.
“You’ll
have
to
go
out.”
I
groaned,
for
I
was
newly
come
back
from
a
weary
day.
We
heard
the
door
open,
a
few
hurried
words,
and
then
quick
steps
upon
the
linoleum.
Our
own
door
flew
open,
and
a
lady,
clad
in
some
dark-coloured
stuff,
with
a
black
veil,
entered
the
room.
“You
will
excuse
my
calling
so
late,”
she
began,
and
then,
suddenly
losing
her
self-control,
she
ran
forward,
threw
her
arms
about
my
wife’s
neck,
and
sobbed
upon
her
shoulder.
“Oh,
I’m
in
such
trouble!”
she
cried;
“I
do
so
want
a
little
help.”
“Why,”
said
my
wife,
pulling
up
her
veil,
“it
is
Kate
Whitney.
How
you
startled
me,
Kate!
I
had
not
an
idea
who
you
were
when
you
came
in.”
“I
didn’t
know
what
to
do,
so
I
came
straight
to
you.”
That
was
always
the
way.
Folk
who
were
in
grief
came
to
my
wife
like
birds
to
a
lighthouse.
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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes — C1 Inglés | Cuentana