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Шерлок Холмс при смерти. Ч.11

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

THE ADVENTURE OF THE DYING DETECTIVE

Part 11

Holmes's voice had sunk to an almost inaudible whisper.

‘What is that?’ said Smith. ‘Turn up the gas? Ah, the shadows begin to fall, do they? Yes, I will turn it up, that I may see you the better.’ He crossed the room and the light suddenly brightened. ‘Is there any other little service that I can do you, my friend?’

‘A match and a cigarette.’

I nearly called out in my joy and my amazement. He was speaking in his natural voice - a little weak, perhaps, but the very voice I knew. There was a long pause, and I felt that Culverton Smith was standing in silent amazement looking down at his companion.

‘What's the meaning of this?’ I heard him say at last in a dry, rasping tone.

‘The best way of successfully acting a part is to be it,’ said Holmes. ‘I give you my word that for three days I have tasted neither food nor drink until you were good enough to pour me out that glass of water. But it is the tobacco which I find most irksome. Ah, here ARE some cigarettes.’ I heard the striking of a match. ‘That is very much better. Halloa! (Эй!) halloa! Do I hear the step of a friend?’

There were footfalls outside, the door opened, and Inspector Morton appeared.

‘All is in order and this is your man,’ said Holmes.

The officer gave the usual cautions.

‘I arrest you on the charge of the murder of one Victor Savage,’ he concluded.

‘And you might add of the attempted murder of one Sherlock Holmes,’ remarked my friend with a chuckle. ‘To save an invalid trouble, Inspector, Mr. Culverton Smith was good enough to give our signal by turning up the gas. By the way, the prisoner has a small box in the right-hand pocket of his coat which it would be as well to remove. Thank you. I would handle it gingerly if I were you. Put it down here. It may play its part in the trial.’

There was a sudden rush and a scuffle, followed by the clash of iron and a cry of pain.

‘You'll only get yourself hurt,’ said the inspector. ‘Stand still, will you?’ There was the click of the closing handcuffs.

‘A nice trap!’ cried the high, snarling voice. ‘It will bring YOU into the dock (скамья подсудимых), Holmes, not me. He asked me to come here to cure him. I was sorry for him and I came. Now he will pretend, no doubt, that I have said anything which he may invent which will corroborate his insane suspicions. You can lie as you like, Holmes. My word is always as good as yours.’

‘Good heavens!’ cried Holmes. ‘I had totally forgotten him. My dear Watson, I owe you a thousand apologies. To think that I should have overlooked you! I need not introduce you to Mr. Culverton Smith, since I understand that you met somewhat earlier in the evening. Have you the cab below? I will follow you when I am dressed, for I may be of some use at the station.’