A Scandal In Bohemia - Arthur Conan Doyle ৯ম অংশ “It was all-important. When a woman thinksthat her house is on fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabsat her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enoughto shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a slidingpanel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out. WhenI cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt tosecure the photographat once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowlyit seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance mayruin all.” “And now?” I asked. “Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the Kingto-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor thephotograph. It might be a satisfaction to hisMajesty to regain it with his own hands.” “And when will you call?” “At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shallhave a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay.” We had reached BakerStreet and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: “Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.” There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by. “I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.” [III] I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee inthe morning when theKing of Bohemia rushed into the room. “You have really got it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. “Not yet.” “But you have hopes?” “I have hopes.” “Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone.” “We must have a cab.” “No, my brougham is waiting.” “Then that will simplify matters.” We descended and startedoff once more for Briony Lodge. “Irene Adler is married,” remarked Holmes. “Married! When?” “Yesterday.” “But to whom?” “To an English lawyer named Norton.” “But she could not love him.” “I am in hopes that she does.” “And why in hopes?” “Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, shedoes not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with your Majesty’s plan.” “It is true. And yet—Well! I wish she had been of my own station! What a queen she would have made!” He relapsed into a moody silence, which was not brokenuntil we drew up in Serpentine Avenue. The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the steps. She watched us with asardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham. “Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Ibelieve?” said she. “I am Mr. Holmes,” answered my companion, looking ather with a questioning and rather startled gaze. “Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for the Continent.” “What!” Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. “Do you mean that shehas left England?” “Never to return.” “And the papers?” asked the King hoarsely. “All is lost.” “We shall see.” He pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight.Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photographwas of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to “Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for.” My friend tore it open and we all three read it together. It was dated at midnightof the preceding nightand ran in this way: [পরবর্তী অংশ পরের পোষ্টে দেখুন]
Posted on: Sun, 09 Jun 2013 19:32:54 +0000
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