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2020-08-05 08:02:29  Դձ
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929ֻappַ:a g 9 559 v i p<"Well, Mr. Gibson, at least I dismiss you. I should have thoughtmy words were plain."Estimates for Artesian Wells

"Where was he sitting?"

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His words were cut short by a sudden scream of "Help! Help! Murder!"With a thrill I recognized the voice as that of my friend. I rushedmadly from the room on to the landing. The cries, which had sunkdown into a hoarse, inarticulate shouting, came from the room which wehad first visited. I dashed in, and on into the dressing-roombeyond. The two Cunninghams were bending over the prostrate figureof Sherlock Holmes, the younger clutching his throat with bothhands, while the elder seemed to be twisting one of his wrists. Inan instant the three of us had torn them away from him, and Holmesstaggered to his feet, very pale and evidently greatly exhausted."Arrest these men, Inspector," he gasped.

"Poor fellow! Poor fellow! What can I do? How can I help?""Were you with him? Can you tell us what has happened?""No, no, I was late this morning. I was not on the beach at all. Ihave come straight from The Gables. What can I do?"

"I'll show you first how it was done, and then I will give theexplanation which is due to you, and even more to my long-sufferingfriend here, who has been invaluable throughout. But, first, I wouldgive you an insight into this man's mentality. It is a very unusualone- so much so that I think his destination is more likely to beBroadmoor than the scaffold. He has, to a high degree, the sort ofmind which one associates with the mediaeval Italian nature ratherthan with the modern Briton. He was a miserable miser who made hiswife so wretched by his niggardly ways that she was a ready prey forany adventurer. Such a one came upon the scene in the person of thischess-playing doctor. Amberley excelled at chess- one mark, Watson, ofa scheming mind. Like all misers, he was a jealous man, and hisjealousy became a frantic mania. Rightly or wrongly, he suspected anintrigue. He determined to have his revenge, and he planned it withdiabolical cleverness. Come here!"

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"As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some mostimportant business. It is probable that he will be away all day, andthat there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now,but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of theway."<"It will very much depend upon the results of my first

"Well, Watson," he asked, turning suddenly upon me, "What do youmake of it?"

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"Then West, if he is the culprit, must have had a duplicate. And yetnone were found upon his body. One other point: if a clerk in thisoffice desired to sell the plans, would it not be simpler to copythe plans for himself than to take the originals, as was actuallydone?"

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared atthe door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stickin his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at thesight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him."You villain!" said he, "where's your daughter?"

<"My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury Old Park, nearBedford, and to see for myself how the ground lay. I wrote to themother, therefore- I had had quite enough of the curmudgeon of afather- and I made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey was my chum, Ihad a great deal of interest which I might tell her of our commonexperiences, I should be in the neighbourhood, would there be anyobjection, et cetera? In reply I had quite an amiable answer fromher and an offer to put me up for the night. That was what took medown on Monday."I see. You got the young lady into your service, and thereWoodley was to do the courting. She recognized the drunken brutethat he was, and would have nothing to do with him. Meanwhile, yourarrangement was rather upset by the fact that you had yourselffallen in love with the lady. You could no longer bear the idea ofthis ruffian owning her?"

"Might I share it?"

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<"Before the what?" asked Holmes with a start.1922

"That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt, of Riding Thorpe Manor, Norfolk, isvery anxious to know. This little conundrum came by the first post,and he was to follow by the next train. There's a ring at the bell,Watson. I should not be very much surprised if this were he."A heavy step was heard upon the stairs, and an instant later thereentered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman, whose clear eyes andflorid cheeks told of a life led far from the fogs of Baker Street. Heseemed to bring a whiff of his strong, fresh, bracing, east-coastair with him as he entered. Having shaken hands with each of us, hewas about to sit down, when his eye rested upon the paper with thecurious markings, which I had just examined and left upon the table."Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of these?" he cried. "Theytold me that you were fond of queer mysteries, and I don't think youcan find a queerer one than that. I sent the paper on ahead, so thatyou might have time to study it before I came."

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929ֻappغҾ⺽չ˾̨Ӧ´ʩ,ͣں "Well, that is just how it stands," said Holmes. "And now, sir,since you are here, we had best have a clear account from your ownlips. My friend here knows nothing of the details." ϸ

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929ֻappҦò80%η֤ "There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over myBradshaw. "It is due at Winchester at 11:3O." ϸ

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