Текст 1.
As far as I have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether the present case is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique.”
The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his knee, I took a good look at the man and endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read the indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance.
I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey shepherd’s check trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man save his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and discontent upon his features.
Sherlock Holmes’ quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. “Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else.”
Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon the paper, but his eyes upon my companion.
“How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?” he asked. “How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour. It’s as true as gospel, for I began as a ship’s carpenter.”
“Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed.”
“Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?”
“I won’t insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an arc-and-compass breastpin.”
“Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?”
“What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the desk?”
“Well, but China?”
“The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist could only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes’ scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple.”
Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. “Well, I never!” said he. “I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothing in it after all.”
Текст 2.
"Stop it!" said Rikki-tikki. "You don't know when to do the right thing at the right time. You're safe in your nest there, but it's war for me! Stop singing a minute, Darzee."
"Oh, great, the beautiful Rikki-tikki, I will stop," said Darzee. "What is it, О Killer of the terrible Nag?"
"Where is Nagaina, for the second time?"
"On the rubbish heap, near the dead body of Nag. Great is Rikki-tikki with the white teeth!"
"Have you ever heard where she keeps her eggs?"
"In the melon bed, near the wall, where the sun shines all day long. She hid them there weeks ago."
"Darzee, can you fly to Nagaina and pretend that your wing is broken? Let Nagaina follow you to this bush, so I'll have time to get to her eggs. If I went there now she'd see me."
"Rikki-tikki, you are not going to eat her eggs, are you?"
Darzee knew that Nagaina's children were born in eggs like his own, and he didn't think at first that it was fair to kill them. But his wife was a sensible bird, and she knew that cobra's eggs meant young cobras later on.
So she flew to Nagaina and cried out:
"Oh, my wing is broken! The boy in the house broke it!"
Nagaina looked at the bird and hissed: "You warned Rikki-tikki when I wanted to kill him. You have found a wrong place to come!" And she moved closer to the bird.
"The boy broke it with a stone!" cried the bird.
"Well, I am going to tell you something you will like. Before night comes, the boy in the house will be as dead as my husband. Listen to me! What is the use of running away? I am sure to catch you. Little fool, look at me!"
But Darzee's wife moved away from the wall in little jumps and the cobra followed her. Rikki-tikki ran to the melon bed near the wall and there, in the warm ground, he found twenty-five snake's eggs covered with white skin.
"I am not late!" he said. He could see the baby cobras inside the eggs, and he knew that the minute they got out they could each kill a man or a mongoose. He broke the eggs as fast as he could and killed the little cobras. At last there was only one egg left, when Rikki-tikki heard Darzee's wife screaming: "Rikki-tikki, Nagaina is in the house, and — oh, come quickly — she is going to kill the people!"
Rikki-tikki took the last egg into his mouth and ran to the house. Teddy and his mother and father were at the table on the veranda, but Rikki-tikki saw that they were not eating anything. They sat stone-still, and their faces were white. Nagaina was near Teddy's chair singing a song of triumph.
"Son of the big man that killed Nag," she said, "I am not ready yet. Wait a little. Keep very quiet, all you three. If you move I attack, and if you do not move I attack. Oh, foolish people, who killed my Nag!"
Teddy was looking at his father, and all his father could do was to whisper: "Teddy, you mustn't move. Teddy, don't move."
Then Rikki-tikki came up and cried: "Turn round, Nagaina; turn and fight!"
"You are not late, are you?" said she, without moving her eyes. "Look at your friends, Rikki-tikki. They are quiet and white; they are afraid. If you come nearer I'll attack."
"Look at your eggs," said Rikki-tikki, "in the melon bed. Go and look, Nagaina!"
The big snake turned and she saw the egg on the floor in front of Rikki-tikki. "Ah-h! Give it to me," she said.
Rikki-tikki's eyes grew red. "What price for the last egg? For a young king cobra? The ants are eating all the others down by the melon bed."
