Miss Morstan entered the room with a firm step and an outward composure of manner. She was a blonde young lady, small, dainty, well gloved, and dressed in the most perfect taste. There was, however, a plainness and simplicity1 about her costume which bore with it a suggestion of limited means. The dress was a sombre grayish beige, untrimmed and unbraided, and she wore a small turban of the same dull hue2, relieved only by a suspicion of white feather in the side. Her face had neither regularity3 of feature nor beauty of complexion4, but her expression was sweet and amiable5, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritual and sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents, I have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of a refined and sensitive nature. I could not but observe that as she took the seat which Sherlock Holmes placed for her, her lip trembled, her hand quivered, and she showed every sign of intense inward agitation6.
"I have come to you, Mr. Holmes," she said, "because you once enabled my employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel7 a little domestic complication. She was much impressed by your kindness and skill."
"Mrs. Cecil Forrester," he repeated thoughtfully. "I believe that I was of some slight service to her. The case, however, as I remember it, was a very simple one."
"She did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same of mine. I can hardly imagine anything more strange, more utterly8 inexplicable9, than the situation in which I find myself."
Holmes rubbed his hands, and his eyes glistened10. He leaned forward in his chair with an expression of extraordinary concentration upon his clear-cut, hawklike11 features. "State your case," said he, in brisk, business tones.
I felt that my position was an embarrassing one. "You will, I am sure, excuse me," I said, rising from my chair.
To my surprise, the young lady held up her gloved hand to detain me. "If your friend," she said, "would be good enough to stop, he might be of inestimable service to me."
I relapsed into my chair.
"Briefly," she continued, "the facts are these. My father was an officer in an Indian regiment12 who sent me home when I was quite a child. My mother was dead, and I had no relative in England. I was placed, however, in a comfortable boarding establishment at Edinburgh, and there I remained until I was seventeen years of age. In the year 1878 my father, who was senior captain of his regiment, obtained twelve months' leave and came home. He telegraphed to me from London that he had arrived all safe, and directed me to come down at once, giving the Langham Hotel as his address. His message, as I remember, was full of kindness and love. On reaching London I drove to the Langham, and was informed that Captain Morstan was staying there, but that he had gone out the night before and had not yet returned. I waited all day without news of him. That night, on the advice of the manager of the hotel, I communicated with the police, and next morning we advertised in all the papers. Our inquiries13 led to no result; and from that day to this no word has ever been heard of my unfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of hope, to find some peace, some comfort, and instead--" She put her hand to her throat, and a choking sob14 cut short the sentence.
"The date?" asked Holmes, opening his note-book.
"He disappeared upon the 3d of December, 1878,--nearly ten years ago."
"His luggage?"
"Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest a clue,--some clothes, some books, and a considerable number of curiosities from the Andaman Islands. He had been one of the officers in charge of the convict-guard there."
"Had he any friends in town?"
"Only one that we know of,--Major Sholto, of his own regiment, the 34th Bombay Infantry15. The major had retired16 some little time before, and lived at Upper Norwood. We communicated with him, of course, but he did not even know that his brother officer was in England."
"A singular case," remarked Holmes.
"I have not yet described to you the most singular part. About six years ago--to be exact, upon the 4th of May, 1882--an advertisement appeared in the Times asking for the address of Miss Mary Morstan and stating that it would be to her advantage to come forward. There was no name or address appended. I had at that time just entered the family of Mrs. Cecil Forrester in the capacity of governess. By her advice I published my address in the advertisement column. The same day there arrived through the post a small card-board box addressed to me, which I found to contain a very large and lustrous17 pearl. No word of writing was enclosed. Since then every year upon the same date there has always appeared a similar box, containing a similar pearl, without any clue as to the sender. They have been pronounced by an expert to be of a rare variety and of considerable value. You can see for yourselves that they are very handsome." She opened a flat box as she spoke18, and showed me six of the finest pearls that I had ever seen.
"Your statement is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. "Has anything else occurred to you?"
"Yes, and no later than to-day. That is why I have come to you. This morning I received this letter, which you will perhaps read for yourself."
"Thank you," said Holmes. "The envelope too, please. Postmark, London, S.W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man's thumb-mark on corner,-- probably postman. Best quality paper. Envelopes at sixpence a packet. Particular man in his stationery19. No address. 'Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatre to- night at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.' Well, really, this is a very pretty little mystery. What do you intend to do, Miss Morstan?"
"That is exactly what I want to ask you."
"Then we shall most certainly go. You and I and--yes, why, Dr. Watson is the very man. Your correspondent says two friends. He and I have worked together before."
"But would he come?" she asked, with something appealing in her voice and expression.
"I should be proud and happy," said I, fervently20, "if I can be of any service."
"You are both very kind," she answered. "I have led a retired life, and have no friends whom I could appeal to. If I am here at six it will do, I suppose?"
"You must not be later," said Holmes. "There is one other point, however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon the pearl-box addresses?"
"I have them here," she answered, producing half a dozen pieces of paper.
"You are certainly a model client. You have the correct intuition. Let us see, now." He spread out the papers upon the table, and gave little darting21 glances from one to the other. "They are disguised hands, except the letter," he said, presently, "but there can be no question as to the authorship. See how the irrepressible Greek e will break out, and see the twirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly22 by the same person. I should not like to suggest false hopes, Miss Morstan, but is there any resemblance between this hand and that of your father?"
"Nothing could be more unlike."
"I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six. Pray allow me to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then. It is only half-past three. Au revoir, then."
"Au revoir," said our visitor, and, with a bright, kindly23 glance from one to the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in her bosom24 and hurried away. Standing25 at the window, I watched her walking briskly down the street, until the gray turban and white feather were but a speck26 in the sombre crowd.
"What a very attractive woman!" I exclaimed, turning to my companion.
He had lit his pipe again, and was leaning back with drooping27 eyelids28. "Is she?" he said, languidly. "I did not observe."
"You really are an automaton,--a calculating-machine!" I cried. "There is something positively29 inhuman30 in you at times."
He smiled gently. "It is of the first importance," he said, "not to allow your judgment31 to be biased32 by personal qualities. A client is to me a mere33 unit,--a factor in a problem. The emotional qualities are antagonistic34 to clear reasoning. I assure you that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance-money, and the most repellant man of my acquaintance is a philanthropist who has spent nearly a quarter of a million upon the London poor."
"In this case, however--"
"I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule. Have you ever had occasion to study character in handwriting? What do you make of this fellow's scribble35?"
"It is legible and regular," I answered. "A man of business habits and some force of character."
Holmes shook his head. "Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise above the common herd36. That d might be an a, and that l an e. Men of character always differentiate37 their long letters, however illegibly38 they may write. There is vacillation39 in his k's and self-esteem in his capitals. I am going out now. I have some few references to make. Let me recommend this book,--one of the most remarkable40 ever penned. It is Winwood Reade's 'Martyrdom of Man.' I shall be back in an hour."
I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but my thoughts were far from the daring speculations41 of the writer. My mind ran upon our late visitor,--her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the strange mystery which overhung her life. If she were seventeen at the time of her father's disappearance42 she must be seven-and-twenty now,--a sweet age, when youth has lost its self- consciousness and become a little sobered by experience. So I sat and mused43, until such dangerous thoughts came into my head that I hurried away to my desk and plunged44 furiously into the latest treatise45 upon pathology. What was I, an army surgeon with a weak leg and a weaker banking-account, that I should dare to think of such things? She was a unit, a factor,--nothing more. If my future were black, it was better surely to face it like a man than to attempt to brighten it by mere will-o'-the-wisps of the imagination.
收听单词发音 |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hawklike
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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biased
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| a.有偏见的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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scribble
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| v.潦草地书写，乱写，滥写；n.潦草的写法，潦草写成的东西，杂文 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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differentiate
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| vi.(between)区分；vt.区别；使不同 | |
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illegibly
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| adv.难读地，暧昧地 | |
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vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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treatise
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| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
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