"Doyle, Arthur Conan - His Last Bow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Arthur Conan)

"Pray sit down, Mr. Scott Eccles," said Holmes in a soothing
voice. "May I ask, in the first place, why you came to me at
all?"
"Well, sir, it did not appear to be a matter which concerned
the police, and yet, when you have heard the facts, you must
admit that I could not leave it where it was. Private detectives
are a class with whom I have absolutely no sympathy, but none
the less, having heard your name --"
"Quite so. But, in the second place, why did you not come at
once?"
"What do you mean?"
Holmes glanced at his watch.
"It is a quarter-past two," he said. "Your telegram was
dispatched about one. But no one can glance at your toilet and
attire without seeing that your disturbance dates from the mo-
ment of your waking."
Our client smoothed down his unbrushed hair and felt his
unshaven chin.
"You are right, Mr. Holmes. I never gave a thought to my
toilet. I was only too glad to get out of such a house. But I have
been running round making inquiries before I came to you. I
went to the house agents, you know, and they said that Mr.
Garcia's rent was paid up all right and that everything was in
order at Wisteria Lodge."
"Come, come, sir," said Holmes, laughing. "You are like
my friend, Dr. Watson, who has a bad habit of telling his stories
wrong end foremost. Please arrange your thoughts and let me
know, in their due sequence, exactly what those events are
which have sent you out unbrushed and unkempt, with dress
boots and waistcoat buttoned awry, in search of advice and
assistance."
Our client looked down with a rueful face at his own uncon-
ventional appearance.
"I'm sure it must look very bad, Mr. Holmes, and I am not
aware that in my whole life such a thing has ever happened
before. But I will tell you the whole queer business, and when I
have done so you will admit, I am sure, that there has been
enough to excuse me."
But his narrative was nipped in the bud. There was a bustle
outside, and Mrs. Hudson opened the door to usher in two robust
and official-looking individuals, one of whom was well known
to us as Inspector Gregson of Scotland Yard, an energetic,
gallant, and, within his limitations, a capable officer. He shook
hands with Holmes and introduced his comrade as Inspector
Baynes, of the Surrey Constabulary.
"We are hunting together, Mr. Holmes and our trail lay in
this direction." He turned his bulldog ejes upon our visitor.
"Are you Mr. John Scott Eccles, of Popham House, Lee?"
"I am."
"We have been following you about all the morning."