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

"You traced him through the telegram, no doubt," said Holmes.
"Exactly, Mr. Holmes. We picked up the scent at Charing
Cross Post-Office and came on here."
"But why do you follow me? What do you want?"
"We wish a statement, Mr. Scott Eccles, as to the events
which led up to the death last night of Mr. Aloysius Garcia, of
Wisteria Lodge, near Esher."
Our client had sat up with staring eyes and every tinge of
colour struck from his astonished face.
"Dead? Did you say he was dead?"
"Yes, sir, he is dead."
"But how? An accident?"
"Murder, if ever there was one upon earth."
"Good God! This is awful! You don't mean -- you don't mean
that I am suspected?"
"A letter of yours was found in the dead man's pocket, and
we know by it that you had planned to pass last night at his
house."
"So I did."
"Oh, you did, did you?"
Out came the official notebook.
"Wait a bit, Gregson," said Sherlock Holmes. "All you
desire is a plain statement, is it not?"
"And it is my duty to warn Mr. Scott Eccles that it may be
used against him."
"Mr. Eccles was going to tell us about it when you entered
the room. I think, Watson, a brandy and soda would do him no
harm. Now, sir, I suggest that you take no notice of this addition
to your audience, and that you proceed with your narrative
exactly as you would have done had you never been interrupted. "
Our visitor had gulped off the brandy and the colour had
returned to his face. With a dubious glance at the inspector's
notebook, he plunged at once into his extraordinary statement.
"I am a bachelor," said he, "and being of a sociable turn I
cultivate a large number of friends. Among these are the family
of a retired brewer called Melville, living at Albemarle Mansion,
Kensington. It was at his table that I met some weeks ago a
young fellow named Garcia. He was, I understood, of Spanish
descent and connected in some way with the embassy. He spoke
perfect English, was pleasing in his manners, and as good-
looking a man as ever I saw in my life.
"In some way we struck up quite a friendship, this young
fellow and I. He seemed to take a fancy to me from the first, and
within two days of our meeting he came to see me at Lee. One
thing led to another, and it ended in his inviting me out to spend
a few days at his house, Wisteria Lodge, between Esher and
Oxshott. Yesterday evening I went to Esher to fulfil this
engagement.
"He had described his household to me before I went there.
He lived with a faithful servant, a countryman of his own, who