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Capitol 3: La misterio de Jardines Lauriston

3. The Lauriston Gardens Mystery

Me confesa ce me ia es notable surprendeda par esta demostra nova de la natur pratical de la teorias de mea acompanior. Mea respeta a sua potias de analise ia crese merveliosa. Alga suspeta ascondeda ia resta ancora en mea mente, an tal, ce la cosa intera es un aveni preorganizada, intendeda per stona me, an si la gol cual el pote cisa ave par engana me ia es ultra mea comprende. Cuando me ia regarda el, el ia fini leje la nota, e sua oios ia adota la espresa vacua e mate cual mostra preocupa mental.

I confess that I was considerably startled by this fresh proof of the practical nature of my companion’s theories. My respect for his powers of analysis increased wondrously. There still remained some lurking suspicion in my mind, however, that the whole thing was a pre-arranged episode, intended to dazzle me, though what earthly object he could have in taking me in was past my comprehension. When I looked at him, he had finished reading the note, and his eyes had assumed the vacant, lack-lustre expression which showed mental abstraction.

“Como de mundo tu ia dedui acel?” me ia demanda.

“How in the world did you deduce that?” I asked.

“Dedui cual?” el ia dise malumorosa.

“Deduce what?” said he petulantly.

“Ma ce el es un sarjento jubilada de la infantria de marina.”

“Why, that he was a retired sergeant of marines.”

“Me ave no tempo per triviales,” el ia responde brusca; alora con un surie: “Pardona mea noncortesia. Tu ia rompe la cadena de mea pensas; ma cisa lo es preferable. Aora, tu vera no ia pote vide ce acel om ia es un sarjento de la infantria de marina?”

“I have no time for trifles,” he answered, brusquely; then with a smile, “Excuse my rudeness. You broke the thread of my thoughts; but perhaps it is as well. So you actually were not able to see that that man was a sergeant of marines?”

“Vera no.”

“No indeed.”

“Sabe lo ia es plu fasil ca esplica perce me sabe lo. Si on ia demanda de tu un demostra ce du e du es cuatro, tu ta trova cisa alga difisilia, ma tu es intera serta de la fato, an tal. An de esta lado de la strada, me ia pote vide un ancor blu grande tatuada a la dorso de sua mano. Esta ia sabori como la mar. La xico ia ave un manera militar, an tal, e la barba de jenas prescriveda. Ala nos ave un infantrior de marina. El ia es un om con un cuantia de ostenta e alga aspeta de comanda. Sin duta, tu ia oserva la modo en cual el ia teni sua testa e ia brandi sua basto. Ance un om fidable e respetable de eda media, parente — tota de esta fatos ia gida me a crede ce el ia es un sarjento.”

“It was easier to know it than to explain why I know it. If you were asked to prove that two and two made four, you might find some difficulty, and yet you are quite sure of the fact. Even across the street I could see a great blue anchor tattooed on the back of the fellow’s hand. That smacked of the sea. He had a military carriage, however, and regulation side-whiskers. There we have the marine. He was a man with some amount of self-importance and a certain air of command. You must have observed the way in which he held his head and swung his cane. A steady, respectable, middle-aged man, too, on the face of him — all facts which led me to believe that he had been a sergeant.”

“Merveliosa!” me ia emete.

“Wonderful!” I ejaculated.

“Mediocre,” Holmes ia dise, an si me ia judi par sua espresa ce el es plaseda par mea surprende e amira evidente. “Me veni de dise ce on ave no criminores. Lo pare ce me era — regarda esta!” El ia lansa a me la nota cual la gardaporte ia trae.

“Commonplace,” said Holmes, though I thought from his expression that he was pleased at my evident surprise and admiration. “I said just now that there were no criminals. It appears that I am wrong — look at this!” He threw me over the note which the commissionaire had brought.

“Ai,” me ia esclama, pasante mea regarda tra lo, “esta es xocante!”

“Why,” I cried, as I cast my eye over it, “this is terrible!”

“Serta, lo pare es pico estracomun,” el ia comenta, calma. “Esce tu ta leje lo a me a vose, per favore?”

“It does seem to be a little out of the common,” he remarked, calmly. “Would you mind reading it to me aloud?”

Esta es la letera cual me ia leje a el:

This is the letter which I read to him:

Mea cara Sr Sherlock Holmes — Un mal situa ia aveni en la note a Numero 3 de Jardines Lauriston, juntada a la Via Brixton. Nosa om patruliante ia vide ala un lus a sirca la ora du de matina, e car la casa es vacua, el ia suspeta ce alga cosa no conveni. El ia trova ce la porte es abrida, e en la sala fronte, cual es sin mobilas, ia descovre la corpo de un senior, bon vestida, e con cartas en sua pox cual porta la nom de Enoch J. Drebber, Cleveland, Ohio, SUA. On ia fa no ruba, e no cosa atesta como la om ia deveni mor. Manxas de sangue es en la sala, ma on ave no feri sur la corpo mesma. Nos tota no comprende perce el ia es en la casa vacua; vera, la situa intera es confondente. Si tu pote veni a la casa a cualce tempo ante la ora des-du, tu va trova me ala. Me ia lasa tota en sua state esistente asta tua comunica. Si tu no pote veni, me va dona detalias plu completa a tu, e ta regarda lo como un ata multe jentil si tu ta furni tua opina a me.

My dear Mr Sherlock Holmes — There has been a bad business during the night at 3 Lauriston Gardens, off the Brixton Road. Our man on the beat saw a light there about two in the morning, and as the house was an empty one, suspected that something was amiss. He found the door open, and in the front room, which is bare of furniture, discovered the body of a gentleman, well dressed, and having cards in his pocket bearing the name of Enoch J. Drebber, Cleveland, Ohio, USA. There had been no robbery, nor is there any evidence as to how the man met his death. There are marks of blood in the room, but there is no wound upon his person. We are at a loss as to how he came into the empty house; indeed the whole affair is a puzzler. If you can come round to the house any time before twelve, you will find me there. I have left everything in statu quo until I hear from you. If you are unable to come, I shall give you fuller details, and would esteem it a great kindness if you would favour me with your opinion.

Fidosa la tua,

Yours faithfully,

“Gregson es la plu astuta de la investigores de la polisia urban,” mea ami ia comenta; “el e Lestrade es la plu bones en un grupo debil. Ambos es rapida e enerjiosa, ma ortodox — a grado xocante. Plu, los teni sua coteles contra lunlotra. Los es tan jelosa como un duple de beletas profesal. On va ave alga diverti en esta caso si ambos xasa la trasa.”

“Gregson is the smartest of the Scotland Yarders,” my friend remarked; “he and Lestrade are the pick of a bad lot. They are both quick and energetic, but conventional — shockingly so. They have their knives into one another, too. They are as jealous as a pair of professional beauties. There will be some fun over this case if they are both put upon the scent.”

Me ia es stonada a la modo calma en cual sua frases ia flue. “Vera, nos no pote perde an un momento,” me ia esclama; “esce me ta comanda un taxi per tu?”

I was amazed at the calm way in which he rippled on. “Surely there is not a moment to be lost,” I cried; “shall I go and order you a cab?”

“Me no es serta esce me va vade. Me es la spirito la plu nonremediable pigra ci ia sta ja en cuoro de sapatos — per dise, cuando me es en esta umor, car a veses me pote es bastante vivosa.”

“I’m not sure about whether I shall go. I am the most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe leather — that is when the fit is on me, for I can be spry enough at times.”

“Ma lo es un oportun de esata la spesie cual tu ia anela.”

“Why, it is just such a chance as you have been longing for.”

“Xico cara, perce lo ta conserna me? Si me desmarania la caso intera, tu pote es serta ce Gregson, Lestrade e simil va reseta tota la onora. Esta es la resulta de es un person nonofisial.”

“My dear fellow, what does it matter to me? Supposing I unravel the whole matter, you may be sure that Gregson, Lestrade and Co. will pocket all the credit. That comes of being an unofficial personage.”

“Ma el solisita ce tu aida el.”

“But he begs you to help him.”

“Si. El sabe ce me es sua superior, e acorda lo a me; ma el ta estrae sua lingua ante confesa lo a cualce person tre. An tal, ta ce nos vade e regarda. Me va solve lo per me mesma. Cisa me va pote burla los, si me gania no otra cosa. Veni!”

“Yes. He knows that I am his superior, and acknowledges it to me; but he would cut his tongue out before he would own it to any third person. However, we may as well go and have a look. I shall work it out on my own hook. I may have a laugh at them, if I have nothing else. Come on!”

El ia apone sua jacon, secutente lo, e ia pasea enerjiosa en modo cual ia mostra ce un umor ativa ia sustitui per la apatica.

He hustled on his overcoat, and bustled about in a way that showed that an energetic fit had superseded the apathetic one.

“Prende tua xapo,” el ia dise.

“Get your hat,” he said.

“Tu vole ce me veni?”

“You wish me to come?”

“Si, si tu ave no cosa plu bon per fa.”

“Yes, if you have nothing better to do.”

Pos un minuto, ambos de nos ia es en un taxi-caro, fretosa viajante en dirije a la Via Brixton. La matina ia es neblosa e nubosa, e un velo de color grisin brun ia pende supra la tetos, aspetante como la refleta de la stradas de color de fango a su. Mea acompanior ia es en umor la plu bon, e ia babela sur violines de Cremona e la difere entre un Stradivarius e un Amati. En mea pertine, me ia es silente, car la clima sombre e la ativia melancolica ocupante nos ia depresa mea umor.

A minute later we were both in a hansom, driving furiously for the Brixton Road. It was a foggy, cloudy morning, and a dun-coloured veil hung over the housetops, looking like the reflection of the mud-coloured streets beneath. My companion was in the best of spirits, and prattled away about Cremona fiddles and the difference between a Stradivarius and an Amati. As for myself, I was silent, for the dull weather and the melancholy business upon which we were engaged depressed my spirits.

“Tu no pare dona multe pensa a la caso ante nos,” me ia dise final, interompente la esajo musical de Holmes.

“You don’t seem to give much thought to the matter in hand,” I said at last, interrupting Holmes’s musical disquisition.

“Ancora no datos,” el ia responde. “Lo es un era nonpardonable si on teori ante ave tota la informas. Lo malinflue la judi.”

“No data yet,” he answered. “It is a capital mistake to theorise before you have all the evidence. It biases the judgement.”

“Tu va ave pronto tua datos,” me ia comenta, puntante mea dito; “esta es la Via Brixton, e acel es la casa, si me no era completa.”

“You will have your data soon,” I remarked, pointing with my finger; “this is the Brixton Road, and that is the house, if I am not very much mistaken.”

“Lo es tal. Para, taxiste, para!” Nos ia es ancora a sirca sento iardes de lo, ma el ia insiste ce nos desembarca, e nos ia fini nosa viaja par pede.

“So it is. Stop, driver, stop!” We were still a hundred yards or so from it, but he insisted upon our alighting and we finished our journey upon foot.

Numero 3 de Jardines Lauriston ia porta un aspeta malindicante e menasante. Lo ia es un de cuatro casas stante a alga distantia peti de la strada; du ia es ocupada e du ia es no. Esta du ia regarda con tre niveles de fenetras vacua e melancolica, cual ia es sombre e sin decora, estra ce asi e ala un carta “Per Lua” ia developa como un catarata sur la vitros oscur. Un jardin peti, con un eruta sperdeda de plantas nonatraente, ia separa cada de esta casas de la strada, e ia es traversada par un rueta streta, de color jalin, e parente composada de un misca de arjila e de calculos. La loca intera ia es multe gaxin pos la pluve cual ia cade tra la note. La jardin ia es limitada par un mur con altia de tre pedes e un franje de reles de lenio sur lo, e contra esta mur un polisior spesa ia es apoiante, ensircada par un bande peti de regardores, torsente sua colos e fatigante sua oios en la espera futil de gania un videta de la avenis interna.

Number 3, Lauriston Gardens, wore an ill-omened and minatory look. It was one of four houses which stood back some little way from the street, two being occupied and two empty. The latter looked out with three tiers of vacant melancholy windows, which were blank and dreary, save that here and there a “To Let” card had developed like a cataract upon the bleared panes. A small garden sprinkled over with a scattered eruption of sickly plants separated each of these houses from the street, and was traversed by a narrow pathway, yellowish in colour, and consisting apparently of a mixture of clay and of gravel. The whole place was very sloppy from the rain which had fallen through the night. The garden was bounded by a three-foot brick wall with a fringe of wood rails upon the top and against this wall was leaning a stalwart police constable, surrounded by a small knot of loafers, who craned their necks and strained their eyes in the vain hope of catching some glimpse of the proceedings within.

Me ia imajina ce Sherlock Holmes va freta direta per entra a la casa e per tufa a un studia de la misterio. No cosa ia pare plu distante de sua intende. Con un aspeta de casualia cual, en la situa, ia pare a me cuasi finjosa, el ia pasea pigra de asi a ala sur la troteria e ia regarda nonespresosa la tera, la sielo, la casas fasante e la linia de reles. Pos fini sua esamina, el ia avansa lenta longo la rueta, o plu esata longo la franje de erba a lado de la rueta, manteninte la fisa de sua oios a la tera. A du veses el ia pausa, e a un ves me ia vide de el un surie e ia oia de el la emete de un esclama de sasia. On ia ave multe marcas de pasos sur la solo de arjila moiada; ma car la polisia ia veni e vade ja sur lo, me no ia pote vide como mea acompanior pote espera aprende cualce cosa de lo. An tal, me ia reseta ja atestas tan estracomun sur la rapidia de sua capasias de persepi ce me ia ave no duta ce el pote vide un monton cual es ascondeda de me.

I had imagined that Sherlock Holmes would at once have hurried into the house and plunged into a study of the mystery. Nothing appeared to be further from his intention. With an air of nonchalance which, under the circumstances, seemed to me to border upon affectation, he lounged up and down the pavement, and gazed vacantly at the ground, the sky, the opposite houses and the line of railings. Having finished his scrutiny, he proceeded slowly down the path, or rather down the fringe of grass which flanked the path, keeping his eyes riveted upon the ground. Twice he stopped, and once I saw him smile, and heard him utter an exclamation of satisfaction. There were many marks of footsteps upon the wet clayey soil; but since the police had been coming and going over it, I was unable to see how my companion could hope to learn anything from it. Still I had had such extraordinary evidence of the quickness of his perceptive faculties that I had no doubt that he could see a great deal which was hidden from me.

A la porte de la casa, nos ia es encontrada par un om alta con fas blanca, capeles pal jala, e un libro de notas en sua mano, ci ia rapidi a ante e ia presa la mano de mea acompanior con fortia zelosa. “Lo es vera jentil ce tu ia veni,” el ia dise. “Me ia comanda ce on toca no cosa.”

At the door of the house we were met by a tall, white-faced, flaxen-haired man, with a notebook in his hand, who rushed forward and wrung my companion’s hand with effusion. “It is indeed kind of you to come,” he said. “I have had everything left untouched.”

“Estra acel!” mea ami ia responde, indicante la rueta. “Si un manada de bufalos ta pasa a longo, on no ta pote ave un desordina plu grande. Sin duta, an tal, tu ia fa ja tua propre concluis, Gregson, ante cuando tu ia permete esta.”

“Except that!” my friend answered, pointing at the pathway. “If a herd of buffaloes had passed along there could not be a greater mess. No doubt, however, you had drawn your own conclusions, Gregson, before you permitted this.”

“Me ia ave tan multe per fa en la casa,” la detetor ia dise evitosa. “Mea colaboror, Sr Lestrade, es asi. Me ia fida ce el va atende esta.”

“I have had so much to do inside the house,” the detective said evasively. “My colleague, Mr Lestrade, is here. I had relied upon him to look after this.”

Holmes ia regardeta me e ia leva sarcasmosa sua suprasiles. “Con du tal omes como tu e Lestrade a la loca, no multe va resta per es descovreda par un person tre,” el ia dise.

Holmes glanced at me and raised his eyebrows sardonically. “With two such men as yourself and Lestrade upon the ground there will not be much for a third party to find out,” he said.

Gregson ia frota sua manos en modo autosasiada. “Me crede ce nos ia fa tota cual on pote fa,” el ia responde; “ma lo es un caso strana, e me ia conose tua prefere per tal cosas.”

Gregson rubbed his hands in a self-satisfied way. “I think we have done all that can be done,” he answered; “it’s a queer case though, and I knew your taste for such things.”

“Tu no ia veni asi en un taxi?” Sherlock Holmes ia demanda.

“You did not come here in a cab?” asked Sherlock Holmes.

“No, senior.”

“No, sir.”

“E Lestrade?”

“Nor Lestrade?”

“No, senior.”

“No, sir.”

“Alora, ta ce nos vade per regarda la sala.” Con esta comenta trivial el ia gami plu a en la casa, segueda par Gregson, de ci sua cualias ia espresa sua stona.

“Then let us go and look at the room.” With which inconsequent remark he strode on into the house, followed by Gregson, whose features expressed his astonishment.

Un pasaje corta, polvosa e con plances nuda, ia gida a la cosina e salas. Du portes ia abri de lo a sinistra e a destra. Un de los ia es evidente ja cluida tra multe semanas. La otra ia parteni a la sala de come, cual ia es la parte en cual la ata misteriosa ia aveni. Holmes ia entra, e me ia segue el con acel senti triste en mea cor cual la presentia de moria inspira.

A short passage, bare-planked and dusty, led to the kitchen and offices. Two doors opened out of it to the left and to the right. One of these had obviously been closed for many weeks. The other belonged to the dining-room, which was the apartment in which the mysterious affair had occurred. Holmes walked in, and I followed him with that subdued feeling at my heart which the presence of death inspires.

Lo ia es un sala grande e cuadro, aspetante an plu grande par la asentia de tota mobilas. Un paper vulgar sintilinte ia orna la mures, ma lo ia es manxada par mofo en locas, e asi e ala bandas vasta ia deveni desfisada e pendente, esposante la jeso jala a su. Fasante la porte on ia ave un ximineria ostentosa, coronida par un scafal de marmo imitada blanca. A un angulo de esta, la trunca de un candela de sira roja ia es afisada. La sola fenetra ia es tan susia ce la lus ia es neblin e nonserta, furninte un tinje mate gris a tota, cual ia es intensida par la strato de polvo densa cual ia covre la sala intera.

It was a large square room, looking all the larger from the absence of all furniture. A vulgar flaring paper adorned the walls, but it was blotched in places with mildew, and here and there great strips had become detached and hung down, exposing the yellow plaster beneath. Opposite the door was a showy fireplace, surmounted by a mantelpiece of imitation white marble. On one corner of this was stuck the stump of a red wax candle. The solitary window was so dirty that the light was hazy and uncertain, giving a dull grey tinge to everything, which was intensified by the thick layer of dust which coated the whole apartment.

Me ia oserva tota esta detalias a pos. A presente, mea atende ia es sentrida a la figur solitar, sombre e nonmovente cual ia reclina estendeda sur la plances, con sua oios regardante la sofito descolorida sin vide e sin espresa. Lo ia parteni a un om de sirca cuatrodes-tre o cuatrodes-cuatro anios, con grandia media, spalas larga, capeles negra e profonda risa, e un barba corta de capelones. El ia es vestida en un jaceta e jacon robin de stofa densa e pesosa, con pantalon pal e colar e polsos perfeta. Un xapo silindre, bon brosida e ordinada, ia es locada sur la solo a sua lado. Sua manos ia es tensada e sua brasos larga lansada, ma sua membros basa ia es entretexeda, como si sua luta de mori ia es de spesie grave. Sur sua fas rijida on ia ave un espresa de teror, e, como lo ia pare a me, de odia, tal como me ia vide nunca sur un profil umana. Esta contorse malvolente e xocante, combinada con la fronte basa, nas plata e mandibula protendente, ia dona a la om mor un aspeta concava e simin, cual ia es aumentada par sua posa torseda e nonatural. Me ia vide moria en multe formas, ma nunca lo ia apare a me en aspeta plu asustante ca en acel sala oscur e mugrosa de cual sua fenetra ia regarda un de la arterias xef de London suburban.

All these details I observed afterwards. At present my attention was centred upon the single, grim, motionless figure which lay stretched upon the boards, with vacant, sightless eyes staring up at the discoloured ceiling. It was that of a man about forty-three or forty-four years of age, middle-sized, broad-shouldered, with crisp curling black hair and a short, stubbly beard. He was dressed in a heavy broadcloth frock-coat and waistcoat, with light-coloured trousers and immaculate collar and cuffs. A top hat, well brushed and trim, was placed upon the floor beside him. His hands were clenched and his arms thrown abroad, while his lower limbs were interlocked, as though his death struggle had been a grievous one. On his rigid face there stood an expression of horror, and, as it seemed to me, of hatred, such as I have never seen upon human features. This malignant and terrible contortion, combined with the low forehead, blunt nose and prognathous jaw, gave the dead man a singularly simous and apelike appearance, which was increased by his writhing, unnatural posture. I have seen death in many forms, but never has it appeared to me in a more fearsome aspect than in that dark, grimy apartment which looked out upon one of the main arteries of suburban London.

Lestrade, magra e feronin como sempre, ia sta a la porte, e ia saluta mea acompanior e me.

Lestrade, lean and ferret-like as ever, was standing by the doorway, and greeted my companion and myself.

“Esta caso va stimula la popla, senior,” el ia comenta. “Lo esede tota cual me ia vide, e me no es un joven.”

“This case will make a stir, sir,” he remarked. “It beats anything I have seen, and I am no chicken.”

“On ave no indicas,” Gregson ia dise.

“There is no clue,” said Gregson.

“An no un,” Lestrade ia interjeta.

“None at all,” chimed in Lestrade.

Sherlock Holmes ia prosimi a la corpo, e, ajenante se, ia esamina studiosa lo. “Tu es serta ce on ave no feri?” el ia demanda, mostrante multe gotas e salpicas de sangue en la ambie ensircante.

Sherlock Holmes approached the body, and, kneeling down, examined it intently. “You are sure that there is no wound?” he asked, pointing to numerous gouts and splashes of blood which lay all round

“Nondisputable!” ambos detetores ia esclama.

“Positive!” cried both detectives.

“Alora, natural, esta sangue parteni a un otra individua — suposable la omisidor, si omiside ia aveni. Lo remente me a la detalias acompaniante la mori de Van Jansen, en Utrecht, en la anio ‘34. Tu recorda la caso, Gregson?”

“Then, of course, this blood belongs to a second individual — presumably the murderer, if murder has been committed. It reminds me of the circumstances attendant on the death of Van Jansen, in Utrecht, in the year ‘34. Do you remember the case, Gregson?”

“No, senior.”

“No, sir.”

“Leje lo — vera, tu debe. On ave no cosa nova su la sol. Tota es ja fada en pasada.” En cuando el ia parla, sua ditos ajil ia vola de asi tra ala a ultra, palpante, presante, desbotoninte, esaminante, e sua oios ia porta la mesma espresa distante sur cual me ia comenta ja. La esamina ia es tan rapida esecutada ce on ta divina apena la atende con cual lo ia es realida. Final, el ia ensofla a la labios de la mor, ante regardeta la fondos de sua botas vernisida.

“Read it up — you really should. There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before.” As he spoke, his nimble fingers were flying here, there and everywhere, feeling, pressing, unbuttoning, examining, while his eyes wore the same faraway expression which I have already remarked upon. So swiftly was the examination made that one would hardly have guessed the minuteness with which it was conducted. Finally, he sniffed the dead man’s lips, and then glanced at the soles of his patent-leather boots.

“Vos tota no ia move el?” el demanda.

“He has not been moved at all?” he asked.

“No plu ca nos ia nesesa per fa nosa esamina.”

“No more than was necessary for the purposes of our examination.”

“Vos pote prende el a la moreria aora,” el ia dise. “No plu detalias resta per es trovada.”

“You can take him to the mortuary now,” he said. “There is nothing more to be learned.”

Gregson ia ave un portaferida e cuatro omes preparada. A sua clama, los ia entra a la sala e la nonconoseda ia es levada e portada a via. Cuando los ia leva el, un anelo ia tintina a su e ia rola traversante la solo. Lestrade ia saisi lo e ia fisa a lo un regarda de oios confondeda.

Gregson had a stretcher and four men at hand. At his call they entered the room and the stranger was lifted and carried out. As they raised him, a ring tinkled down and rolled across the floor. Lestrade grabbed it up and stared at it with mystified eyes.

“Un fem ia es asi,” el ia esclama. “Lo es la anelo de sposia de un fem.”

“There’s been a woman here,” he cried. “It’s a woman’s wedding-ring.”

El ia mostra lo, en parla, sur la palma de sua mano. Tota de nos ia asembla sirca el e ia contempla lo. On ia pote ave no duta ce, a ves pasada, la sirculo de oro nondecorada ia beli la dito de un fem sposinte.

He held it out, as he spoke, upon the palm of his hand. We all gathered round him and gazed at it. There could be no doubt that the circlet of plain gold had once adorned the finger of a bride.

“Esta complica la situa,” Gregson ia dise. “Par la sielo, lo ia es ja sufisinte complicada.”

“This complicates matters,” said Gregson. “Heaven knows, they were complicated enough before.”

“Tu es serta ce lo no simpli lo?” Holmes ia oserva. “On pote descovre no cosa par regarda lo. Cual tu ia trova en sua poxes?”

“You’re sure it doesn’t simplify them?” observed Holmes. “There’s nothing to be learned by staring at it. What did you find in his pockets?”

“Nos ave tota la cosas asi,” Gregson ia dise, indicante un sperde de ojetos sur un de la grados basa de la scalera. “Un orolojeta de oro, Numero 97163 par Barraud de London. Cadena de orolojeta, de oro multe pesosa e solida. Anelo de oro, con simbol de francamasonisme. Spino de oro — con testa de buldog, con rubis como oios. Portacarta de cuoro rusce, con cartas de Enoch J. Drebber de Cleveland, corespondente con la leteras E. J. D. sur la telas. No portamone, ma mone libre en cuantia de sete paundes e des-tre xilinges. Edita de pox de la Decamerone de Boccaccio, con nom de Joseph Stangerson sur la paje inisial. Du leteras — un dirijeda a E. J. Drebber e un a Joseph Stangerson.”

“We have it all here,” said Gregson, pointing to a litter of objects upon one of the bottom steps of the stairs. “A gold watch, No. 97163 by Barraud of London. Gold Albert chain, very heavy and solid. Gold ring, with masonic device. Gold pin — bulldog’s head, with rubies as eyes. Russian-leather card-case, with cards of Enoch J. Drebber of Cleveland, corresponding with the E. J. D. upon the linen. No purse, but loose money to the extent of seven pounds thirteen. Pocket edition of Boccaccio’s Decameron, with name of Joseph Stangerson upon the flyleaf. Two letters — one addressed to E. J. Drebber and one to Joseph Stangerson.”

“A cual adirije?”

“At what address?”

“Ofisia American, Strand — par posta restante. Ambos es de la Compania Guion de Barcones de Vapor, e refere a la parti de sua barcones de Liverpool. Lo es clar ce esta om nonfortunosa ia es a punto de revade a York Nova.”

“American Exchange, Strand — to be left till called for. They are both from the Guion Steamship Company, and refer to the sailing of their boats from Liverpool. It is clear that this unfortunate man was about to return to New York.”

“Esce vos ia fa demandas sur esta om Stangerson?”

“Have you made any enquiries as to this man Stangerson?”

“Me ia comensa sin pausa, senior,” Gregson ia dise. “Me ia fa ce on envia anunsias a tota jornales, e un de mea omes ia vade a la Ofisia American, ma el ancora no ia reveni.”

“I did it at once, sir,” said Gregson. “I have had advertisements sent to all the newspapers, and one of my men has gone to the American Exchange, but he has not returned yet.”

“Esce vos ia comunica a Cleveland?”

“Have you sent to Cleveland?”

“Nos ia telegrafi a esta matina.”

“We telegraphed this morning.”

“Como vos ia espresa vosa demandas?”

“How did you word your enquiries?”

“Nos ia esplica mera la situa, e ia dise ce nos ta reseta felis cualce informa cual ta pote aida nos.”

“We simply detailed the circumstances, and said that we should be glad of any information which could help us.”

“Vos no ia demanda per detalias sur cualce punto cual ia pare sentral a vos?”

“You did not ask for particulars on any point which appeared to you to be crucial?”

“Me ia demanda sur Stangerson.”

“I asked about Stangerson.”

“No otra cosa? Esce on no ave cualce detalia sirca cual esta caso intera pare pivote? Vos no va telegrafi denova?”

“Nothing else? Is there no circumstance on which this whole case appears to hinge? Will you not telegraph again?”

“Me ia dise tota cual me va dise,” Gregson ia responde, en vose ofendeda.

“I have said all I have to say,” said Gregson, in an offended voice.

Sherlock Holmes ia cacareta a se, e ia pare a punto de fa alga comenta, cuando Lestrade, ci ia es en la sala fronte cuando nos ia fa esta conversa en la coredor, ia reapare a la sena, frotante sua manos en manera grandiosa e autosasiada.

Sherlock Holmes chuckled to himself, and appeared to be about to make some remark, when Lestrade, who had been in the front room while we were holding this conversation in the hall, reappeared upon the scene, rubbing his hands in a pompous and self-satisfied manner.

“Sr Gregson,” el ia dise, “me veni de descovre un cosa de importa masima, e cual on ia ta fali nota si me no ia ta fa un esamina atendosa de la mures.”

“Mr Gregson,” he said, “I have just made a discovery of the highest importance, and one which would have been overlooked had I not made a careful examination of the walls.”

La oios de la om peti ia sintili en cuando el ia parla, e el ia es evidente en un state de selebra supresada a la gania de un punto contra sua colaboror.

The little man’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he was evidently in a state of suppressed exultation at having scored a point against his colleague.

“Veni asi,” el ia dise, reentrante enerjiosa a la sala, de cual sua aira ia pare plu clar pos la estrae de sua ocupor macabre. “Bon, sta ala!”

“Come here,” he said, bustling back into the room, the atmosphere of which felt clearer since the removal of its ghastly inmate. “Now, stand there!”

El ia ensende un fosfor a sua bota e ia leva lo contra la mur.

He struck a match on his boot and held it up against the wall.

“Vide acel!” el ia dise, vinsosa.

“Look at that!” he said, triumphantly.

Me ia comenta ja ce la paper ia cade partal a via. En esta angulo individua de la sala, un peso grande ia descoli se, lasante un cuadro jala de jeso ru. Traversante esta spasio vacua, un parola solitar ia es malscriveda en leteras de sangue roja — RACHE.

I have remarked that the paper had fallen away in parts. In this particular corner of the room a large piece had peeled off, leaving a yellow square of coarse plastering. Across this bare space there was scrawled in blood-red letters a single word — RACHE.

“Cual vos pensa sur esta?” la detetor ia esclama, con manera de presentor esibinte sua spetaculo. “On ia fali nota esta car lo ia es en la angulo la plu oscur de la sala, e nun ia considera regarda ala. La omisidor ia scrive lo con sua propre sangue. Vide esta manxa do lo ia flueta longo la mur! Esta desprende la idea de suiside, an tal. Perce acel angulo ia es elejeda per scrive lo? Me va esplica. Vide acel candela sur la scafal de ximine. Lo ia es ardente a acel tempo, e si lo ta es ardente, esta angulo ta es la parte la plu luminada de la mur en loca de la plu oscur.”

“What do you think of that?” cried the detective, with the air of a showman exhibiting his show. “This was overlooked because it was in the darkest corner of the room, and no one thought of looking there. The murderer has written it with his or her own blood. See this smear where it has trickled down the wall! That disposes of the idea of suicide anyhow. Why was that corner chosen to write it on? I will tell you. See that candle on the mantelpiece. It was lit at the time, and if it was lit this corner would be the brightest instead of the darkest portion of the wall.”

“E cual es sua sinifia aora cuando tu ia trova lo?” Gregson ia demanda en vose desvaluante.

“And what does it mean now that you have found it?” asked Gregson in a depreciatory voice.

“Sinifia? Bon, lo sinifia ce la scrivor ia intende scrive la nom fema Rachel, ma ia es disturbada ante tempo sufisinte per fini. Recorda mea parolas: cuando esta caso deveni clarida, vos va trova ce un fem nomida Rachel pertine a lo en alga modo. Tu pote rie an multe bon, Sr Sherlock Holmes. Cisa tu es multe astuta e intelijente, ma la lepror vea es la plu bon en la conta final.”

“Mean? Why, it means that the writer was going to put the female name Rachel, but was disturbed before he or she had time to finish. You mark my words, when this case comes to be cleared up, you will find that a woman named Rachel has something to do with it. It’s all very well for you to laugh, Mr Sherlock Holmes. You may be very smart and clever, but the old hound is the best, when all is said and done.”

“Vera, me demanda per tua pardona!” mea acompanior ia dise, ci ia desordina la tempera de la om peti par esplode subita con rie. “Tu ave serta la onora de es la prima de nos ci ia descovre esta e, como tu dise, lo porta tota indicas de es scriveda par la otra partisipor en la misterio de la note pasada. Me ancora no ia ave un tempo per esamina esta sala, ma con vosa permete, me va fa lo aora.”

“I really beg your pardon!” said my companion, who had ruffled the little man’s temper by bursting into an explosion of laughter. “You certainly have the credit of being the first of us to find this out and, as you say, it bears every mark of having been written by the other participant in last night’s mystery. I have not had time to examine this room yet, but with your permission I shall do so now.”

En cuando el ia parla, el ia estrae subita de sua pox un regla enrolada e un lupa. Con esta du utiles, el ia trota sin ruido tra la sala, pausante de tempo a tempo, ajenante se a veses, e reclinante se a un ves en modo plata e prona. El ia es tan fasinada par sua ocupa ce lo ia pare ce el ia oblida nosa presentia, car el ia babela cuasi nonoiable a se tra tota la tempo, manteninte un xuta constante de esclamas, jemis, sibilas e crias peti con sujestas de coraji e espera. Regardante el, me ia es nonresistable rementeda a un xasavolpe de sangue pur, un can bon instruida cual freta de asi a ala tra la bosceta, crietante en sua zelo, asta cuando lo descovre la odor perdeda. Tra dudes minutos o plu, el ia continua sua rexercas, mesurante con atende la plu esata la distantia entre marcas cual ia es intera nonvidable per me, e aplicante sua regla a la mures de ves a ves en manera egal noncomprendable. En un loca, el ia colie multe atendosa un pila peti de polvo gris de la solo, e ia paca lo a via en un envelopa. Final, el ia esamina par sua lupa la parola sur la mur, studiante cada letera de lo con esatia la plu detaliosa. Pos fa esta, el ia pare es sasiada, car el ia repone sua regla e sua lupa en sua pox.

As he spoke, he whipped a tape measure and a large round magnifying glass from his pocket. With these two implements he trotted noiselessly about the room, sometimes stopping, occasionally kneeling, and once lying flat upon his face. So engrossed was he with his occupation that he appeared to have forgotten our presence, for he chattered away to himself under his breath the whole time, keeping up a running fire of exclamations, groans, whistles and little cries suggestive of encouragement and of hope. As I watched him I was irresistibly reminded of a pure-blooded, well-trained foxhound as it dashes backwards and forwards through the covert, whining in its eagerness, until it comes across the lost scent. For twenty minutes or more he continued his researches, measuring with the most exact care the distance between marks which were entirely invisible to me, and occasionally applying his tape to the walls in an equally incomprehensible manner. In one place he gathered up very carefully a little pile of grey dust from the floor, and packed it away in an envelope. Finally, he examined with his glass the word upon the wall, going over every letter of it with the most minute exactness. This done, he appeared to be satisfied, for he replaced his tape and his glass in his pocket.

“On dise ce un jenio es un person con capasia infinita de pasientia,” el ia comenta con surie. “Lo es un defini multe mal, ma lo aplica bon a laboras de detetor.”

“They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains,” he remarked with a smile. “It’s a very bad definition, but it does apply to detective work.”

Gregson e Lestrade ia oserva la manobras de sua amator acompaniante con un curiosia notable e alga despeta. Evidente los ia fali asorbe la fato, cual me ia comensa comprende, ce tota la atas la plu peti de Sherlock Holmes es dirijeda a alga gol definida e pratical.

Gregson and Lestrade had watched the manoeuvres of their amateur companion with considerable curiosity and some contempt. They evidently failed to appreciate the fact, which I had begun to realise, that Sherlock Holmes’s smallest actions were all directed towards some definite and practical end.

“Cual tu pensa sur la cosa, senior?” ambos ia demanda.

“What do you think of it, sir?” they both asked.

“Me ta ruba vos de la onora de la caso si me ta osa aida vos,” mea ami ia comenta. “Vos fa aora tan bon ce lo ta es triste si cualcun ta interfere.” Sua vose parlante ia conteni un monton de sarcasmo. “Si vos va informa me sur la progresa de vosa investigas,” el ia continua, “me va dona felis cualce aida posible a vos. Entretempo, me ta vole parla a la polisior ci ia trova la corpo. Tu pote dona a me sua nom e adirije?”

“It would be robbing you of the credit of the case if I were to presume to help you,” remarked my friend. “You are doing so well now that it would be a pity for anyone to interfere.” There was a world of sarcasm in his voice as he spoke. “If you will let me know how your investigations go,” he continued, “I shall be happy to give you any help I can. In the meantime I should like to speak to the constable who found the body. Can you give me his name and address?”

Lestrade ia regardeta sua libro de notas. “John Rance,” el ia dise. “El es aora en tempo de osio. Tu va trova el a Numero 46 de Bloco Audley, Porton de Parce Kennington.”

Lestrade glanced at his notebook. “John Rance,” he said. “He is off duty now. You will find him at 46 Audley Court, Kennington Park Gate.”

Holmes ia fa un nota de la adirije.

Holmes took a note of the address.

“Veni, dotor,” el ia dise; “nos va vade per visita el. Me va dise a vos un cosa cisa aidosa a vos en la caso,” el ia continua, turnante a la du detetores. “Un omiside ia aveni, e la omisidor ia es un om. El ia ave plu ca ses pedes de altia, ia es a la apico de sua vive, ia ave pedes peti per sua altia, ia porta botas simple con fronte reta, e ia fumi un sigar de Tiruchirappalli. El ia veni asi con sua vitim en un taxi de cuatro rotas, cual ia es tirada par un cavalo con tre feros vea e un nova a sua pede destra anterior. Multe probable, la omisidor ia ave un fas roja, e la ungias de sua mano destra ia es notable longa. Estas es mera un pico de indicas, ma cisa los va aida vos.”

“Come along, doctor,” he said; “we shall go and look him up. I’ll tell you one thing which may help you in the case,” he continued, turning to the two detectives. “There has been murder done, and the murderer was a man. He was more than six feet high, was in the prime of life, had small feet for his height, wore coarse, square-toed boots and smoked a Trichinopoly cigar. He came here with his victim in a four-wheeled cab, which was drawn by a horse with three old shoes and one new one on his off foreleg. In all probability the murderer had a florid face, and the fingernails of his right hand were remarkably long. These are only a few indications, but they may assist you.”

Lestrade e Gregson ia regardeta lunlotra con surie noncredente.

Lestrade and Gregson glanced at each other with an incredulous smile.

“Si esta om ia es omisideda, como lo ia es fada?” la prima ia demanda.

“If this man was murdered, how was it done?” asked the former.

“Par venena,” Sherlock Holmes ia dise brusca, e ia gami partinte. “Un plu cosa, Lestrade,” el ia ajunta, turnante se a la porte: “‘Rache’ es la parola deutx per ‘venja’; donce no perde tua tempo par xerca Sra Rachel.”

“Poison,” said Sherlock Holmes curtly, and strode off. “One other thing, Lestrade,” he added, turning round at the door: “‘Rache’ is the German for ‘revenge’; so don’t lose your time looking for Miss Rachel.”

E pos esta flexa partian, el ia pasea a via, lasante pos se la du competores con boca abrida.

With which Parthian shot he walked away, leaving the two rivals open-mouthed behind him.

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