Приключения Шерлока Холмса / The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (сборник)

“No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. Please, look upon it not as a seedy hat but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson’s fire. The facts are these: about four o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small celebration and was walking down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tall man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row began between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of them knocked off the man’s hat, on which he raised his stick to protect himself and, swinging it over his head, broke 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[51], and vanished in the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also run away at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left alone on the field of battle. There remained also the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most excellent Christmas goose.”

“Which surely he restored to their owner?”

“My dear Watson, that is 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 to me both hat and goose on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are interesting 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 as soon as possible. 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, who could it be?”

“We can only deduce.”

“From his hat?”

“Precisely.”

“But you are joking. What can you gather from this old hat?”

“Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this thing?”

I took the battered object in my hands and turned it over rather pitifully. 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 name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials “H. B.” were written upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. Apart from that, it was cracked, very dusty, and there were spots in several places, although he had tried to hide the discoloured places by concealing them with ink.

“I can see nothing,” said I, handing it back to my friend.

“On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. But you can not deduce from what you see. You are too uncertain in making your conclusions.”

“Then, please tell me what it is that you can deduce from this hat?”

He picked it up and gazed at it in the special introspective manner which was typical of him. “It is perhaps not so informative than it might have been,” he remarked, “and yet there are a few conclusions which are very clear, and a few others which are highly probable too. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the look of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than before. It is a sign of a moral retrogression, which, when we take with the decline of his fortunes, seems to show some evil influence, probably drink, upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife stopped loving him.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect,” he continued, ignoring my objection. “He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has grey hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house.”

“You are certainly joking, Holmes.”

“Not in the least[52]. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you can not see how I have received them?”