"Doyle, Arthur Conan - The Blue Carbuncle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Arthur Conan)

ing, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was
returning from some small jollification and was making his way
homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw,
in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and
carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached
the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this
stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off
the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself
and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind
him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his
assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window,
and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards
him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the
labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham
Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of
Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle,
and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat
and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose."
"Which surely he restored to their owner?"
"My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that 'For
Mrs. Henry Baker' was printed upon a small card which was tied
to the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials 'H. B.'
are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some
thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this
city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of
them."
"What, then, did Peterson do?"
"He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas
morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest
to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there
were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that
it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has
carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose,
while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who
lost his Christmas dinner."
"Did he not advertise?"
"No."
"Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?"
"Only as much as we can deduce."
"From his hat?"
"Precisely."
"But you are joking. What can you gather from this old
battered felt?"
"Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you
gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn
this article?"
I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather
ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round
shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of
red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker's