THE ADVENTURE OF THE LIONS MANEWord下载.docx
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madeofsowonderfulahappeningandofmyeventualtriumphagainst
everydifficulty!
Asitis,however,Imustneedstellmytaleinmy
ownplainway,showingbymywordseachstepuponthedifficultroad
whichlaybeforemeasIsearchedforthemysteryoftheLion'
sMane.
Myvillaissituateduponthesouthernslopeofthedowns,
commandingagreatviewoftheChannel.Atthispointthecoast-line
isentirelyofchalkcliffs,whichcanonlybedescendedbya
single,long,tortuouspath,whichissteepandslippery.Atthe
bottomofthepathlieahundredyardsofpebblesandshingle,even
whenthetideisatfull.Hereandthere,however,therearecurves
andhollowswhichmakesplendidswimming-poolsfilledafreshwitheach
flow.Thisadmirablebeachextendsforsomemilesineachdirection,
saveonlyatonepointwherethelittlecoveandvillageofFulworth
breaktheline.
Myhouseislonely.I,myoldhousekeeper,andmybeeshavethe
estatealltoourselves.Halfamileoff,however,isHarold
Stackhurst'
swell-knowncoachingestablishment,TheGables,quitea
largeplace,whichcontainssomescoreofyoungfellowspreparing
forvariousprofessions,withastaffofseveralmasters.Stackhurst
himselfwasawell-knownrowingBlueinhisday,andanexcellent
all-roundscholar.HeandIwerealwaysfriendlyfromthedayIcame
tothecoast,andhewastheonemanwhowasonsuchtermswithme
thatwecoulddropinoneachotherintheeveningswithoutan
invitation.
TowardstheendofJuly,1907,therewasaseveregale,thewind
blowingupchannel,heapingtheseastothebaseofthecliffsand
leavingalagoonattheturnofthetide.OnthemorningofwhichI
speakthewindhadabated,andallNaturewasnewlywashedand
fresh.Itwasimpossibletoworkuponsodelightfuladay,andI
strolledoutbeforebreakfasttoenjoytheexquisiteair.Iwalked
alongthecliffpathwhichledtothesteepdescenttothebeach.AsI
walkedIheardashoutbehindme,andtherewasHaroldStackhurst
wavinghishandincheerygreeting.
"
Whatamorning,Mr.Holmes!
IthoughtIshouldseeyouout."
Goingforaswim,Isee."
Atyouroldtricksagain,"
helaughed,pattinghisbulging
pocket."
Yes.McPhersonstartedearly,andIexpectImayfindhim
there."
FitzroyMcPhersonwasthesciencemaster,afineupstandingyoung
fellowwhoselifehadbeencrippledbyhearttroublefollowing
rheumaticfever.Hewasanaturalathlete,however,andexcelledin
everygamewhichdidnotthrowtoogreatastrainuponhim.Summerand
winterhewentforhisswim,and,asIamaswimmermyself,Ihave
oftenjoinedhim.
Atthismomentwesawthemanhimself.Hisheadshowedabovethe
edgeofthecliffwherethepathends.Thenhiswholefigure
appearedatthetop,staggeringlikeadrunkenman.Thenextinstant
hethrewuphishandsand,withaterriblecry,felluponhisface.
StackhurstandIrushedforward-itmayhavebeenfiftyyards-and
turnedhimonhisback.Hewasobviouslydying.Thoseglazedsunken
eyesanddreadfullividcheekscouldmeannothingelse.Oneglimmerof
lifecameintohisface:
foraninstant,andheutteredtwoorthree
wordswithaneagerairofwarning.Theywereslurredand
indistinct,buttomyearthelistofthem,whichburstinashriek
fromhislips,were"
theLion'
sMane."
Itwasutterlyirrelevantand
unintelligible,andyetIcouldtwistthesoundintonoothersense.
Thenhehalfraisedhimselffromtheground,threwhisarmsintothe
air,andfellforwardonhisside.Hewasdead.
Mycompanionwasparalyzedbythesuddenhorrorofit,butI,asmay
wellbeimagined,hadeverysenseonthealert.AndIhadneed,forit
wasspeedilyevidentthatwewere,inthepresenceofanextraordinary
case.ThemanwasdressedonlyinhisBurberryovercoat,histrousers,
andanunlacedpairofcanvasshoes.Ashefellover,hisBurberry,
whichhadbeensimplythrownroundhisshoulders,slippedoff,
exposinghistrunk.Westaredatitinamazement.Hisbackwascovered
withdarkredlinesasthoughhehadbeenterriblyfloggedbyathin
wirescourge.Theinstrumentwithwhichthispunishmenthadbeen
inflictedwasclearlyflexible,forthelong,angrywealscursedround
hisshouldersandribs.Therewasblooddrippingdownhischin,forhe
hadbittenthroughhislowerlipintheparoxysmofhisagony.His
drawnanddistortedfacetoldhowterriblethatagonyhadbeen.
IwaskneelingandStackhurststandingbythebodywhenashadow
fellacrossus,andwefoundthatIanMurdochwasbyourside.Murdoch
wasthemathematicalcoachattheestablishment,atall,dark,thin
man,sotaciturnandaloofthatnonecanbesaidtohavebeenhis
friend.Heseemedtoliveinsomehigh,abstractregionofsurdsand
conicsections,withlittletoconnecthimwithordinarylife.He
waslookeduponasanodditybythestudents,andwouldhavebeen
theirbutt,buttherewassomestrangeoutlandishbloodintheman,
whichshoweditselfnotonlyinhiscoal-blackeyesandswarthyface
butalsoinoccasionaloutbreaksoftemper,whichcouldonlybe
describedasferocious.Ononeoccasion,beingplaguedbyalittledog
belongingtoMcPherson,hehadcaughtthecreatureupandburledit
throughtheplate-glasswindow,anactionforwhichStackhurstwould
certainlyhavegivenhimhisdismissalhadhenotbeenaveryvaluable
teacher.Suchwasthestrangecomplexmanwhonowappearedbeside
us.Heseemedtobehonestlyshockedatthesightbeforehim,though
theincidentofthedogmayshowthattherewasnogreatsympathy
betweenthedeadmanandhimself.
Poorfellow!
Poorfellow!
WhatcanIdo?
HowcanIhelp?
"
Wereyouwithhim?
Canyoutelluswhathashappened?
No,no,Iwaslatethismorning.Iwasnotonthebeachatall.I
havecomestraightfromTheGables.WhatcanIdo?
Youcanhurrytothepolice-stationatFulworth.Reportthe
matteratonce."
Withoutawordhemadeoffattopspeed,andIproceededtotakethe
matterinhand,whileStackhurst,dazedatthistragedy,remainedby
thebody.Myfirsttasknaturallywastonotewhowasonthebeach.
FromthetopofthepathIcouldseethewholesweepofit,anditwas
absolutelydesertedsavethattwoorthreedarkfigurescouldbe
seenfarawaymovingtowardsthevillageofFulworth.Havingsatisfied
myselfuponthispoint,Iwalkedslowlydownthepath.Therewas
clayorsoftmarlmixedwiththechalk,andeveryhereandthereIsaw
thesamefootstep,bothascendinganddescending.Nooneelsehadgone
downtothebeachbythistrackthatmorning.AtoneplaceI
observedtheprintofanopenhandwiththefingerstowardsthe
incline.ThiscouldonlymeanthatpoorMcPhersonhadfallenashe
ascended.Therewereroundeddepressions,too,whichsuggestedthathe
hadcomedownuponhiskneesmorethanonce.Atthebottomofthepath
wastheconsiderablelagoonleftbytheretreatingtide.Attheside
ofitMcPhersonhadundressed,fortherelayhistowelonarock.It
wasfoldedanddry,sothatitwouldseemthat,afterall,hehad
neverenteredthewater.OnceortwiceasIhuntedroundamidthehard
shingleIcameonlittlepatchesofsandwheretheprintofhiscanvas
shoe,andalsoofhisnakedfoot,couldbeseen.Thelatterfact
provedthathehadmadeallreadytobathe,thoughthetowelindicated
thathehadnotactuallydoneso.
Andherewastheproblemclearlydefined-asstrangeaoneashad
everconfrontedme.Themanhadnotbeenonthebeachmorethana
quarterofanhouratthemost.StackhursthadfollowedhimfromThe
Gables,sotherecouldbenodoubtaboutthat.Hehadgonetobathe
andhadstripped,asthenakedfootstepsshowed.Thenhehad
suddenlyhuddledonhisclothesagain-theywerealldishevelledand
unfastened-andhehadreturnedwithoutbathing,oratany,rate
withoutdryinghimself.Andthereasonforhischangeofpurposehad
beenthathehadbeenscourgedinsonicsavage,inhumanfashion,
tortureduntilhebithislipthroughinhisagony,andwasleft
withonlystrengthenoughtocrawlawayandtodie.Whohaddone
thisbarbarousdeed?
Therewere,itistrue,smallgrottosandcaves
inthebaseofthecliffs,butthelowsunshonedirectlyintothem,
andtherewasnoplaceforconcealment.Then,again,therewere
thosedistantfiguresonthebeach.Theyseemedtoofarawaytohave
beenconnectedwiththecrime,andthebroadlagooninwhichMcPherson
hadintendedtobathelaybetweenhimandthem,lappingtiptothe
rocks.Ontheseatwoorthreefishing-boatswereatnogreat
distance.Theiroccupantsmightbeexaminedatourleisure.Therewere
severalroadsforinquiry,butnonewhichledtoanyveryobvious
goal.
WhenIatlastreturnedtothebodyIfoundthatalittlegroupof
wonderingfolkhadgatheredroundit.Stackhurstwas,ofcourse,still
there,andIanMurdochhadjustarrivedwithAnderson,thevillage
constable,abig,ginger-moustachedmanoftheslow,solidSussex