Sherlock Holmes Complete Works 2

Chapter 18 Memoirs 18
On a sweltering, sweltering, rainy day in July, with the curtains half drawn, Holmes lay curled up on the sofa, reading and rereading a letter he had received that morning.The papers were boring that day, Parliament was adjourned, and people had left the city.I long to visit the clearings of the New Forest or the beaches of the South Seas.Holmes is only willing to stay in the center of a population of 500 million, and is very concerned about every little gossip in the fruitless case.He has only one exception, and that is to visit his brother in the country.

I threw the newspaper aside, leaned back in the chair, lost in thought.Suddenly my friend said:

"You are quite right, Watson," said he.

"what?"

"It's just ridiculous to use this method to resolve differences."

"That's ridiculous," I snapped back.I straightened up and stared at him in surprise.

"What's the matter, Holmes?" I exclaimed. "It's more than I expected."

Holmes laughed.

"You may not have spoken, but you can tell by your eyebrows. Seeing you throw down the newspaper, lost in thought, excited about the opportunity to study your thoughts, and finally interrupting your thoughts, turned out to be what I guessed It hit your mind." But I was still not satisfied with his explanation.

"Let me tell you, throwing down the newspaper had already drawn my attention to you, and you sat there blankly for half a minute. Then you gazed at the newly framed portrait of General Gordon. Judging from your facial expression I see you start to think. But you don't think very far. Then your eyes go to the picture of Henry Ward Beecher on the bookshelf. After a while, you look up again. You think, if this picture was framed and hung in the empty space on this wall, it could hang side by side with that picture of Gordon."

"You really follow my thoughts!" I exclaimed.

"I haven't been much mistaken so far. You went back to Beecher, and you gazed at his portrait, and studied his character from his face. Then you stopped frowning and showed a pensive look, which shows You're remembering Beecher's experience. After a while, you look away from the portrait and your thoughts turn to the Civil War. Your lips are pursed, your hands are clasped, and your face is getting dark again. You shake your head. Are you Thinking of the horrors and misery of war. Slowly move a hand over your old scar and smile at the corner of your mouth, and I can see that you must be thinking that this way of solving the problem is ridiculous. This is very absurd. Willing to You know, everything I deduce is correct."

"Exactly!" I said. "You've explained it very well."

"It's very shallow. How about we take a walk in the streets of London tonight?"

I readily agree.It was past ten o'clock when we returned to Baker Street.A carriage is pulling up in front of our lodgings.

"Ah! It's a doctor, a general doctor," said Holmes. "It's just opened, and it's doing well. What a coincidence we've come back!"

A thin-faced, pale man with sandy beards rose from a chair by the fire when he saw us enter.He is at most 33 or [-] years old, but his complexion is not very good, which shows that life has taken away his youth.He looked like a very sensitive gentleman in a black frock coat, dark trousers, and a tie that was not too colorful.

"Good night, Doctor," said Holmes brightly. "I am glad you have only waited for us a few minutes."

"Have you spoken to the coachman?"

"No, I see it from the candle. Sit down, what's your business?"

"I am Dr. Percy Trevelyan," said the visitor, "and I live at [-] Brook Street.

"I know, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, that your time is valuable. But a strange series of incidents have been going on in my flat in Brook Street lately. This evening has become so serious that I can only come to you at once. .”

Sherlock Holmes sat down and lit his pipe.

"I would very much welcome a favor," said Holmes. "Tell me in detail, and let me hear you."

"I was a student at the University of London, and after graduation I took up a small position at the Royal University Hospital and then devoted myself to research. Fortunately, my research into the pathology of obligatory syncope aroused great interest. I write I wrote a dissertation and finally won the Bruce Pinkerton Prize and Medal. At that time people thought I was going to be great.

"But I just don't have the money. You know, if a specialist wants to be famous, he has to open in one of the twelve streets in Cavendish Square, which requires huge rent and equipment costs. In addition, there must be The money to maintain myself for a few years, and rent a decent carriage and a good horse. These are beyond my reach. However, an unexpected thing made my eyes shine.

"It was a visit from a gentleman named Blessington. Blessington and I didn't know each other, and he came into my room one morning and talked about his visit.

"'You are the Mr. Percy Trevelyan who was awarded recently?' said he.

"I nodded.

"'To be honest you are very talented and would be a very accomplished man. Do you understand?'

"I couldn't help laughing.

"'I'm sure I'll do my best,' I said.

"'Have you any bad habits? Alcoholism?'

"'No, sir!' I answered loudly.

"'Great! Why don't you practice medicine when you've got what you're capable of?'

"I shrugged.

"'Yes, yes!' he said hastily. 'That's no wonder. How would you feel if I helped you open Brook Street?'

"I stared at him in amazement.

"'Ah, it is chiefly for my own benefit!' cried he; 'I have a few thousand pounds to invest, and I think I can invest it in you.'

"'Why?' I asked hastily.

"'It's just safer.'

"'Well, what shall I do?'

"'I'll rent a house for you, furnish it, hire a maid, and take care of everything, and all you have to do is see the doctor. I'll give you your pocket money and everything you need, and then I'll get three-quarters of the income, The rest is yours.'

"Mr. Holmes, I moved into this flat on the Feast of the Annunciation, and opened it on his terms. He also moved in with me, as an inpatient. He had a weak heart and was in constant need of treatment. He used it himself. The two best rooms on the first floor, one used as a living room and the other as a bedroom. He lived in seclusion and kept his doors closed. His habits were very irregular, but in a certain way very regular, that It is at the same time every evening that I come to my consulting room to check the accounts. For every guinea I earn, he leaves me five shillings and threepence, and he takes all the rest and puts them in his room. safe.

"He never regretted this speculative business. The business was booming from the very beginning. I handled several cases brilliantly, and with my reputation in the affiliated hospital, I quickly became famous. In recent years, I It also made him a rich man.

"Mr Holmes, there is only one question left, and that is the fact that I have only come here this evening to ask you because of recent events.

"About a few weeks ago, Mr. Blessington came to me very excitedly. He said that there had been some burglaries in the West End, and he said that the doors and windows should be secured without a single day's delay. During the week Here, he acted as if he were terribly frightened of something or someone. As the days went by, his fear seemed to fade away, and he regained his senses. But a recent event has brought him back to his present position. A pathetic and despicable state of weakness.

"The thing is this: Two days ago, I received a letter, neither addressed nor dated.

"'A resident Russian aristocrat wishes to see Dr. Percy Trevelyan as soon as possible. He has been suffering for several years from catalepsy, of which Dr. Trevelyan is a man of excellence. He is a well-known authority. He is going to see a doctor at about [-]:[-] tomorrow night. Dr. Trevelyan will wait at home if it is convenient for you.'

"I am very interested in this letter. Because the main difficulty in the study of catalepsy is the rarity of the disease.

"He was an old man of thin stature, unusually prim and ordinary, not like the Russian aristocrats he might have imagined. His companion was a tall young man, swarthy, strikingly handsome, but with a ferocious countenance, He had the limbs and chest of a Hercules. He took the old man to the chair with his hands, and took care of him with the care you would hardly expect from his appearance.

"'Excuse me, doctor, for coming here,' he said in English with some difficulty. 'This is my father, and his health is very important to me.'

"I was very moved. 'Maybe, during the consultation, you would like to stay in the consultation room?' I said.

"'Absolutely not!' he exclaimed. 'If you allow me, I can be in the waiting room while you see my father.'

"I agreed, and the young man went away. I began to study the patient's condition. He was of average intellect, but, as I sat writing the medical records, he suddenly stopped answering my inquiries. I was very surprised to see Until he was sitting upright on the chair, his facial muscles were stiff, and his eyes were staring at me. The disease broke out again.

"I was sympathetic and terrified. I took the patient's pulse and temperature, checked his muscle stiffness, and watched his reflexes. Everything was consistent with my previous diagnosis of such cases. In the past , I used alkyl nitrite inhalation, and I have achieved better results. The bottle is in the laboratory downstairs, so I ran downstairs to get the medicine. About 5 minutes! Then I came back. But the patient No trace. How surprised I am.

"I ran to the waiting room first, but his son wasn't there. The valet who received the patients was new and not very clever. He usually stayed in the waiting room downstairs. He didn't hear anything. This incident The matter became a mystery. Mr. Blessington returned from his walk a short time later, but I did not mention it to him. I have tried to keep my conversations with him as little as possible lately.

"I don't think I'll ever see that Russian and his son again. You can imagine my surprise when they came to my office this evening, at that time, just like yesterday.

"'I am very sorry that I left suddenly yesterday, Doctor,' said my patient.

"'I do wonder about it,' I said.

"'Ah, it is so,' said he, 'when I wake up the memory of my sickness is always vague. It seemed to me that the place of waking up was strange, and so I came out into the street.'

"'When I saw my father come out of the consulting room, I thought I was done. I didn't know the truth until I got home.'

(End of this chapter)