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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
met
speciously
enough.
Suppose
that
this
man
Boone
had
thrust
Neville
St.
Clair
through
the
window,
there
is
no
human
eye
which
could
have
seen
the
deed.
What
would
he
do
then?
It
would
of
course
instantly
strike
him
that
he
must
get
rid
of
the
tell-tale
garments.
He
would
seize
the
coat,
then,
and
be
in
the
act
of
throwing
it
out,
when
it
would
occur
to
him
that
it
would
swim
and
not
sink.
He
has
little
time,
for
he
has
heard
the
scuffle
downstairs
when
the
wife
tried
to
force
her
way
up,
and
perhaps
he
has
already
heard
from
his
Lascar
confederate
that
the
police
are
hurrying
up
the
street.
There
is
not
an
instant
to
be
lost.
He
rushes
to
some
secret
hoard,
where
he
has
accumulated
the
fruits
of
his
beggary,
and
he
stuffs
all
the
coins
upon
which
he
can
lay
his
hands
into
the
pockets
to
make
sure
of
the
coat’s
sinking.
He
throws
it
out,
and
would
have
done
the
same
with
the
other
garments
had
not
he
heard
the
rush
of
steps
below,
and
only
just
had
time
to
close
the
window
when
the
police
appeared.”
“It
certainly
sounds
feasible.”
“Well,
we
will
take
it
as
a
working
hypothesis
for
want
of
a
better.
Boone,
as
I
have
told
you,
was
arrested
and
taken
to
the
station,
but
it
could
not
be
shown
that
there
had
ever
before
been
anything
against
him.
He
had
for
years
been
known
as
a
professional
beggar,
but
his
life
appeared
to
have
been
a
very
quiet
and
innocent
one.
There
the
matter
stands
at
present,
and
the
questions
which
have
to
be
solved—what
Neville
St.
Clair
was
doing
in
the
opium
den,
what
happened
to
him
when
there,
where
is
he
now,
and
what
Hugh
Boone
had
to
do
with
his
disappearance—are
all
as
far
from
a
solution
as
ever.
I
confess
that
I
cannot
recall
any
case
within
my
experience
which
looked
at
the
first
glance
so
simple
and
yet
which
presented
such
difficulties.”
While
Sherlock
Holmes
had
been
detailing
this
singular
series
of
events,
we
had
been
whirling
through
the
outskirts
of
the
great
town
until
the
last
straggling
houses
had
been
left
behind,
and
we
rattled
along
with
a
country
hedge
upon
either
side
of
us.
Just
as
he
finished,
however,
we
drove
through
two
scattered
villages,
where
a
few
lights
still
glimmered
in
the
windows.
“We
are
on
the
outskirts
of
Lee,”
said
my
companion.
“We
have
touched
on
three
English
counties
in
our
short
drive,
starting
in
Middlesex,
passing
over
an
angle
of
Surrey,
and
ending
in
Kent.
See
that
light
among
the
trees?
That
is
The
Cedars,
and
beside
that
lamp
sits
a
woman
whose
anxious
ears
have
already,
I
have
little
doubt,
caught
the
clink
of
our
horse’s
feet.”
“But
why
are
you
not
conducting
the
case
from
Baker
Street?”
I
asked.
“Because
there
are
many
inquiries
which
must
be
made
out
here.
Mrs.
St.
Clair
has
most
kindly
put
two
rooms
at
my
disposal,
and
you
may
rest
assured
that
she
will
have
nothing
but
a
welcome
for
my
friend
and
colleague.
I
hate
to
meet
her,
Watson,
when
I
have
no
news
of
her
husband.
Here
we
are.
Whoa,
there,
whoa!”
We
had
pulled
up
in
front
of
a
large
villa
which
stood
within
its
own
grounds.
A
stable-boy
had
run
out
to
the
horse’s
head,
and
springing
down,
I
followed
Holmes
up
the
small,
winding
gravel-drive
which
led
to
the
house.
As
we
approached,
the
door
flew
open,
and
a
little
blonde
woman
stood
in
the
opening,
clad
in
some
sort
of
light
mousseline
de
soie,
with
a
touch
of
fluffy
pink
chiffon
at
her
neck
and
wrists.
She
stood
with
her
figure
outlined
against
the
flood
of
light,
one
hand
upon
the
door,
one
half-raised
in
her
eagerness,
her
body
slightly
bent,
her
head
and
face
protruded,
with
eager
eyes
and
parted
lips,
a
standing
question.
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Las aventuras de Sherlock Holmes — C1 Inglés | Cuentana