Baker Street Charterers

Five minutes later, Miss Morstan and Holmes arrived at the street lamp almost simultaneously.

Miss Morstan came in a four-wheeled carriage. She was wearing a black cloak. She was graceful and calm, but her face was pale. Watson looked at her softly and pitifully.

Love at first sight is such a mysterious thing.

Although Mary Morstan's complexion is not good, she is indeed a woman with a relatively good psychological quality, and she calmly answered Holmes' question, "—Yes, Major Sholto is my father's close friend, and they are all Adrian Officer of the Isles of Mann, oh yes, there is a note from my father in the desk, very strange, I can't understand what it means at all. I think it would be better for you to see it, this is-"

With the sound of the carriage, Holmes sat with Watson, and Nora sat with Miss Morstan. Miss Morstan was very friendly to this only woman, but her next greeting made Nora immediately His face darkened, "——I have seen your interview. If I remember correctly, the "London Star" also has a photo of you and Mr. Holmes on it."

"..." The kind and intelligent Mary certainly didn't mean to find fault. She didn't understand the delicate relationship between Holmes and Nora at all.Nora took a deep breath, let out another breath when she met Watson's nervous gaze, and said calmly, "Indeed, at the request of the reporter, we took a photo together, and this is the only one."

"..." Mary looked between them and wisely chose to remain silent.

Holmes didn't notice this episode. He looked down at the paper—"Indian soil paper," he analyzed slowly, "has been nailed to the board, and there is a small tear. The pattern on the paper should be a building. Architectural drawing of a large house with many rooms, corridors and corridors. There is a cross drawn in red ink with vague pencil writing 'Left 3.37' written on it. There is a hieroglyphic symbol on the left corner, which is connected four A cross. And some writing, rough and scrawled, 'Four signatures — Jonathan Small, Mohammad Singh, Abdullah Khan, Dost Akbar.'”

This strange clue attracted everyone's curiosity, and everyone stretched their necks to look over it.

Holmes mused, "Me too. I don't see how this has anything to do with your father's disappearance, but it must be a very important document that was carefully kept in the wallet—it is equally smooth on both sides. smooth."

His eyes were fixed, his brows were tightened, and he could see that he was completely lost in thought.

Miss Mary Morstan lowered her head worriedly, while Watson comforted the temperamental beauty in a gentle voice.It can be seen that Miss Morstan should also have a good impression of him.Nora had no intention of stepping in as a light bulb, so she also silently observed the retrograde scenery. Although it was not yet seven o'clock in the evening in late autumn, there was already a hint of coolness, the sky was dimly pressed overhead, and the fog in London was as thick as clouds. Covering the entire city and the river.The street looked muddy, and the street lamps lined up along the riverside road cast a soft, dim light, turning the fog and rain into hazy circles of light.

The shop windows on both sides of the road also seemed to be mixed with thick fog, the crowd was bustling with voices, and faces flashed hurriedly in the blurred light beams.Nora stared blankly at these strange faces, some of them were sad or changed, withered or full of spring, looking weird and absurd, as if watching a silent tragicomedy of all beings in a daze.

She had never been a sentimental person, and was rarely at the mercy of her inner emotions.But maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the irritability that has been accumulated for a long time in this strange era. At this moment, her mind is empty, and she can't think of anything else at all. She is watching the familiar and unfamiliar street crowds flying by, her eyes are dark, and her breathing is exhausted. .

It's too depressing here, Nora thought to herself, the fog is wet and blurry almost every day, and she rarely sees a sunny day, but she misses the bustle and bustle of her motherland very much, with the philistine noise that Britain doesn't have, that is The place where she was born and grew up, the weather and the thoughts made the nostalgia that had been hidden in her heart suddenly take root and grow wildly.

If there is a chance, she will definitely go back. This is probably one of the motivations for her to continue living here, Nora sighed deeply.

Compared with Nora's daze and Mary Watson's warm atmosphere, Holmes was completely undisturbed by the surrounding environment. He opened the notepad and spread it on his lap, and kept writing numbers and memos on it under the dim light.

This is one of the things that everyone really admires about him. Sherlock Holmes is a rare person who is born with detective talent and character. until the truth.Other things, entertainment, emotions, and interests have all become unnecessary factors. This is really a character that people love and hate.

When we arrived at the destination, the entrance next to the Lyceham Theater was already very crowded. There was a steady stream of carriages and carriages, and people were constantly coming and going, which was very lively.The gentlemen wore crisp gowns and snow-white shirts, while the ladies wore scarves with elaborate jewels.According to the agreement, the group walked towards the third pillar, and a short, dark-faced man dressed as a coachman came forward to greet them.

"Miss Morstan? Are these three with you?" he asked.

"That's right," said Mary Morstan harmoniously. "They're all my friends."

The man looked at everyone questioningly, especially Nora, who was dressed strangely, and said in a stern order-like tone, "Please forgive me, miss, I need your assurance—these are not policemen."

"I promise, sir," said Mary affirmatively.

After hearing the guarantee, the general character of the janitor blew a whistle, and a man who looked like a gangster led a four-wheeled carriage. Before the four of them sat firmly, they drove the carriage with whips.This made Miss Morstan a little alarmed, and on a foggy autumn night, she got into a carriage driven by a stranger, not knowing where she was being taken, or what was waiting for them below.

Fortunately, Watson, who has fallen into a new relationship, has not much acumen and wink in ordinary times. He has been trying to find some light topics, telling about his adventures in Afghanistan, and describing how he shot and killed a sneaker with a musket. A tiger cub in his tent.His language was a little confused because of his restlessness, but unexpectedly it produced a good effect-a kind of atmosphere like a joke.

Miss Morstan was successfully amused, she covered her lips and chuckled softly, Nora glanced at Watson's eager eyes, and added lazily, "Mr. Watson, it seems that we—we The harvest is quite rich.”

Mary blushed, and Watson gave a silly smile.

"Don't worry, Miss Morstan." Nora supported her cheeks with her hands, the night wind blew over her forehead, her emerald green pupils stared at the shadows of the night, her voice was low but clear in the gradually quiet street, as if He was talking to himself, and seemed to be speaking to the coachman, "...with Mr. Holmes here, we are very safe."