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2020-08-05 21:34:58  Դձ
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bgַܴ:a g 9 559 v i p<"Yes, sir, I fear that I am a little late, but the trains wereawkward. You wrote to me about a bust that is in my possession.""Exactly."Sherlock Holmes was not disappointed in his expectations. Two dayslater he received a bulky envelope, which contained a short notefrom the detective, and a typewritten document which covered severalpages of foolscap.

"But you haven't helped me. You have made the affair far moredifficult. What sort of burglars are they who steal silver and thenthrow it into the nearest pond?"

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He held out his hand, and I saw in the light of the lamp that two ofhis knuckles were burst and bleeding.

"I have seen them. So has the doctor."

He handed over the paper to our client, who stood staring at amarked advertisement. Holmes and I leaned forward and read it over hisshoulder. This is how it ran:

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"Let me introduce you," he shouted, "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, ofLee, in the county of Kent."<"The best possible."

"Yes, sir. Twenty-six voyages."

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It was only nine o'clock, and we were off full cry upon the trail atonce. First we drove to Brixton Workhouse Infirmary, where we foundthat it was indeed the truth that a charitable couple had calledsome days before, that they had claimed an imbecile old woman as aformer servant, and that they had obtained permission to take her awaywith them. No surprise was expressed at the news that she had sincedied.

"Dear me," said he, "it was only this moment at breakfast that I wassaying to my friend, Dr. Watson, that sensational cases haddisappeared out of our papers."

<"I got your telegram, and I came at the hour you said. I heardthat you had been down to the office. There was no getting away fromyou. Let's hear the worst. What are you going to do with me? Arrestme? Speak out, man! You can't sit there and play with me like a catwith a mouse.""The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair isgrizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he useslime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of thelower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number ofhair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They allappear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour oflime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, graydust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showingthat it has been hung up indoors most of the time; while the marksof moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearerperspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the bestof training."

"You are mad, Mr. Holmes- you are mad!" she cried, at last.He drew a small piece of cardboard from his pocket. It was theface of a woman cut out of a portrait.

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<"I need not explain, madame. I have too much respect for yourintelligence to do so- though I confess that intelligence has beensurprisingly at fault of late.""This is Miss Kitty Winter," said Shinwell Johnson, waving his fathand as an introduction. "What she don't know- well, there, she'llspeak for herself. Put my hand right on her, Mr. Holmes, within anhour of your message."

"Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr.Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it notpossible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep thematter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that hehumours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?""That is a possible solution-in fact, as matters stand, it is themost probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nicehousehold for a young lady."

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bgܴŵҥ״ The unfortunate young man staggered back, and cast a look full ofhorror and reproach at Bannister. ϸ

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