福爾摩斯歸來

內(nèi)容概要

　　The Return of Sherlock Holmes，中文譯名為《福爾摩斯歸來》，這是一部充滿傳奇、冒險(xiǎn)與智慧的偵探故事，它由英國著名偵探小說家、“英國偵探小說之父”阿瑟·柯南·道爾編著。在充滿霧氣的倫敦貝克街上，住著一位富有正義感的偵探福爾摩斯。他和他忠實(shí)的醫(yī)生朋友華生一起經(jīng)歷了無數(shù)千奇百怪的案子，制造了許多經(jīng)典的偵探故事?！陡柲λ箽w來》便是其中的一部。該書被公認(rèn)為世界偵探小說的經(jīng)典之作，至今已被譯成多種文字，并曾經(jīng)多次被改編成電影。書中所展現(xiàn)主人公福爾摩斯的傳奇故事伴隨了一代又一代人的美麗童年、少年直至成年?！　o論作為語言學(xué)習(xí)的課本，還是作為通俗的文學(xué)讀本，《福爾摩斯歸來》對當(dāng)代中國讀者，特別是青少年讀者將產(chǎn)生積極的影響。為了使讀者能夠了解英文故事概況，進(jìn)而提高閱讀速度和閱讀水平，在每章的開始部分增加了中文導(dǎo)讀。

書籍目錄

1. 空蕩蕩的屋子/The Adventure of the Empty House 12. 諾伍德的建筑商/The Adventure of the Norwood Builder 253. 跳舞的人/The Adventure of the Dancing Men 524. 孤身騎車人/The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist 805. 修道院學(xué)校/The Adventure of the Priory School 1046. 黑彼得/The Adventure of Black Peter 1407. 查爾斯·米爾沃頓/The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton 1648. 六尊拿破侖石膏像/The Adventure of the Six Napoleons 1849. 三個(gè)大學(xué)生/The Adventure of the Three Students 20810. 金邊眼鏡/The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez 22811. 失蹤的中衛(wèi)/The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter 25412. 格蘭其莊園/The Adventure of the Abbey Grange 27813. 第二塊血跡/The Adventure of the Second Stain 304

章節(jié)摘錄

　　1. 空蕩蕩的屋子　　The Adventure of the Empty House　　羅納德·艾德爾于一八九四年春天被謀殺，他是澳洲某殖民地總督梅努斯爵士的次子，曾與伊迪絲·吳德利小姐訂婚，后經(jīng)雙方同意解除婚約?！　×_納德喜歡玩紙牌，被殺的當(dāng)天下午曾和莫瑞先生、約翰·哈弟爵士和莫蘭上校玩牌，輸了五鎊錢，幾星期前曾與莫蘭上校搭檔贏了四百二十鎊。當(dāng)晚他在俱樂部玩牌，十點(diǎn)回家，在房中生了火，由于有煙，所以窗戶是開著的。十一點(diǎn)二十分，他的母親和妹妹回來，敲他的門沒回音。找人撬開房門，發(fā)現(xiàn)他頭部被左輪槍子彈擊中，已身亡。桌上放著一堆堆的錢并寫著俱樂部朋友的名字。　　他的窗口離地二十英尺，窗下沒有被踩踏的痕跡。兇手應(yīng)該是神槍手，從街上射擊致其死亡?！　∵@天六點(diǎn)左右，華生來到牛津街，看到一個(gè)人在講對此案的推論，不小心將一個(gè)駝背老人的書碰掉。華生趕快拾起書交還老人，老人怒罵著消失在人群中?！　∪A生回到肯辛頓家中還不到五分鐘，那個(gè)駝背老人來找他，對剛才的態(tài)度表示道歉。并說自己有幾本書正好可以填滿華生的書柜。當(dāng)華生看了一眼書柜轉(zhuǎn)回身時(shí)，聽到了福爾摩斯的笑聲，華生高興地叫道：“福爾摩斯，你真的還活著嗎？！”　　福爾摩斯告訴華生當(dāng)年他寫完那封信后，走到小路的盡頭，莫利亞蒂緊跟著他，并沖過來抱住他。福爾摩斯學(xué)過柔道，擺脫了莫利亞蒂。教授瘋狂地猛踢猛抓，身體失去了平衡，掉下了懸崖。但福爾摩斯知道他的同　　t was in the spring of the year 1894 that all London was interested， and the fashionable world dismayed， by the murder of the Honourable Ronald Adair under most unusual and inexplicable circumstances. The public has already learned those particulars of the crime which came out in the police investigation， but a good deal was suppressed upon that occa sion， since the case for the prosecution was so overwhelmingly strong that it was not necessary to bring forward all the facts. Only now， at the end of nearly ten years， am I allowed to supply those missing links which make up the whole of that remarkable chain. The crime was of interest in itself， but that interest was as nothing to me compared to the inconceivable sequel， which afforded me the greatest shock and surprise of any event in my adventurous life. Even now， after this long interval， I find myself thrilling as I think of it， and feeling once more that sudden flood of joy， amazement， and incredulity which utterly submerged my mind. Let me say to that public， which has shown some interest in those glimpses which I have occasionally given them of the thoughts and actions of a very remarkable man， that they are not to blame me if I have not shared my knowledge with them， for I should have considered it my first duty to do so， had I not been barred by a positive prohibition from his own lips， which was only withdrawn upon the third of last month.　　It can be imagined that my close intimacy with Sherlock Holmes had interested me deeply in crime， and that after his disappearance I never failed to read with care the various problems which came before the public. And I even attempted， more than once， for my own private satisfaction， to employ his methods in their solution， though with indifferent success. There was none， however， which appealed to me like this tragedy of Ronald Adair. As I read the evidence at the inquest， which led up to a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown， I realized more clearly than I had ever done the loss which the community had sustained by the death of Sherlock Holmes. There were points about this strange business which would， I was sure， have specially appealed to him， and the efforts of the police would have been supplemented， or more probably anticipated， by the trained observation and the alert mind of the first criminal agent in Europe. All day， as I drove upon my round， I turned over the case in my mind and found no explanation which appeared to me to be adequate. At the risk of telling a twice-told tale， I will recapitulate the facts as they were known to the public at the conclusion of the inquest.　　The Honourable Ronald Adair was the second son of the Earl of Maynooth， at that time governor of one of the Australian colonies. Adairs mother had returned from Australia to undergo the operation for cataract， and she， her son Ronald， and her daughter Hilda were living together at 427 Park Lane. The youth moved in the best society—had， so far as was known， no enemies and no particular vices. He had been engaged to Miss Edith Woodley， of Carstairs， but the engagement had been broken off by mutual consent some months before， and there was no sign that it had left any very profound feeling behind it. For the rest of the mans life moved in a narrow and conventional circle， for his habits were quiet and his nature tmemotional. Yet it was upon this easy-going young aristocrat that death came， in most strange and unexpected form， between the hours of ten and eleven-twenty on the night of March 30， 1894.　　Ronald Adair was fond of cards—playing continually， but never for such stakes as would hurt him. He was a member of the Baldwin， the Cavendish， and the Bagatelle card clubs. It was shown that， after dinner on the day of his death， he had played a rubber of whist at the latter club. He had also played there in the afternoon. The evidence of those who had played with him—Mr. Murray， Sir John Hardy， and Colonel Moran—showed that the game was whist， and that there was a fairly equal fall of the cards. Adair might have lost five pounds， but not more. His fortune was a considerable one， and such a loss could not in any way affect him. He had played nearly every day at one club or other， but he was a cautious player， and usually rose a winner. It came out in evidence that， in partnership with Colonel Moran， he had actually won as much as four hundred and twenty pounds in a sitting， some weeks before， from Godfrey Milner and Lord Balmoral. So much for his recent history as it came out at the inquest.　　On the evening of the crime， he returned from the club exactly at ten. His mother and sister were out spending the evening with a relation. The servant deposed that she heard him enter the front room on the second floor， generally used as his sitting-room. She had lit a fire there， and as it smoked she had opened the window. No sound was heard from the room until eleven-twenty， the hour of the return of Lady Maynooth and her daughter. Desiring to say good-night， she attempted to enter her sons room. The door was locked on the inside， and no answer could be got to their cries and knocking. Help was obtained， and the door forced. The unfortunate young man was found lying near the table. His head had been horribly mutilated by an expanding revolver bullet， but no weapon of any sort was to be found in the room. On the table lay two banknotes for ten pounds each and seventeen pounds ten in silver and gold， the money arranged in little piles of varying amount. There were some figures also upon a sheet of paper， with the names of some club friends opposite to them， from which it was conjectured that before his death he was endeavoufing to make out his losses or winnings at cards.　　A minute examination of the circumstances served only to make the case more complex. In the first place， no reason could be given why the young man should have fastened the door upon the inside. There was the possibility that the murderer had done this， and had afterwards escaped by the window. The drop was at least twenty feet， however， and a bed of crocuses in full bloom lay beneath. Neither the flowers nor the earth showed any sign of having been disturbed， nor were there any marks upon the narrow strip of grass which separated the house from the road. Apparently， therefore， it was the young man himself who had fastened the door. But how did he come by his death? No one could have climbed up to the window without leaving traces. Suppose a man had fired through the window， he would indeed be a remarkable shot who could with a revolver inflict so deadly a wound. Again， Park Lane is a frequented thoroughfare； there is a cab stand within a hundred yards of the house. No one had heard a shot. And yet there was the dead man， and there the revolver bullet， wliich bad mush roomed out， as soft-nosed bullets will， and so inflicted a wound which must have caused instantaneous death. Such were the circumstances of the Park Lane Mystery， which were further complicated by entire absence of motive， since， as I have said， young Adair was not known to have any enemy， and no attempt had been made to remove the money or valuables in the room.　　All day I turned these facts over in my mind， endeavouring to hit some theory which could reconcile them all， and to find that line of least resistance which my poor friend had declared to be the starting-point of every investigation. I confess that I made little progress. In the evening I strolled across the Park， and found myself about six oclock at the Oxford Street end of Park Lane. A group of loafers upon the pavements， all staring up at a particular window， directed me to the house which I had come to see. A tall， thin man with coloured glasses， whom I strongly suspected of being a plain-clothes detective， was pointing out some theory of his own， while the others crowded round to listen to what he said. I got as near him as I could， but his observations seemed to me to be absurd， so I withdrew again in some disgust. As I did so I struck against an elderly， deformed man， who had been behind me， and I knocked down several books which he was carrying. I remember that as I picked them up， I observed the title of one of them， The Origin of Tree Worship， and it struck me that the fellow must be some poor bibliophile， who， either as a trade or as a hobby， was a collector of obscure volumes. I endeavoured to apologize for the accident， but it was evident that these books which I had so unfortunately maltreated were very precious objects in the eyes of their owner. With a snarl of contempt he turned upon his heel， and I saw his curved back and white side-whiskers disappear among the throng.　　My observations of No. 427 Park Lane did little to clear up the problem in which I was interested. The house was separated from the street by a low wall and railing， the whole not more than five feet high. It was perfectly easy， therefore， for anyone to get into the garden， but the window was entirely inaccessible； since there was no waterpipe or anything which could help the most active man to climb it. More puzzled than ever， I retraced my steps to Kensington. I had not been in my study five minutes when the maid entered to say that a person desired to see me. To my astonishment it was none other than my strange old book collector， his sharp， wizened face peering out from a frame of white hair， and his precious volumes， a dozen of them at least， wedged under his fight arm.　　"Youre surprised to see me， sir，" said he， in a strange， croaking voice.　　I acknowledged that I was.

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