住院的病人03（在线收听）

I was sufficiently conversant with Holmes's methods to be able to follow his  reasoning, and to see that the nature and state of the various medical  instruments in the wicker basket which hung in the lamplight inside the brougham  had given him the data for his swift deduction. The light in our window above  showed that this late visit was indeed intended for us. With some curiosity as  to what could have sent a brother medico to us at such an hour, I followed  Holmes into our sanctum.

A pale, taper-faced man with sandy whiskers rose up from a chair by the fire as  we entered. His age may not have been more than three or four and thirty, but  his haggard expression and unhealthy hue told of a life which has sapped his  strength and robbed him of his youth. His manner was nervous and shy, like that  of a sensitive gentleman, and the thin white hand which he laid on the  mantelpiece as he rose was that of an artist rather than of a surgeon. His dress  was quiet and sombre—a black frock-coat, dark trousers, and a touch of color  about his necktie.

“Good-evening, doctor,” said Holmes, cheerily. “I am glad to see that you  have only been waiting a very few minutes.”

“You spoke to my coachman, then?”

“No, it was the candle on the side-table that told me. Pray resume your seat  and let me know how I can serve you.”

“My name is Doctor Percy Trevelyan,” said our visitor, “and I live at 403  Brook Street.”

“Are you not the author of a monograph upon obscure nervous lesions?” I asked.

His pale cheeks flushed with pleasure at hearing that his work was known to me.

“I so seldom hear of the work that I thought it was quite dead,” said he. “My  publishers gave me a most discouraging account of its sale. You are yourself, I  presume, a medical man?”

“A retired army surgeon.”

“My own hobby has always been nervous disease. I should wish to make it an  absolute specialty, but, of course, a man must take what he can get at first.  This, however, is beside the question, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and I quite  appreciate how valuable your time is. The fact is that a very singular train of  events has occurred recently at my house in Brook Street, and to-night they came  to such a head that I felt it was quite impossible for me to wait another hour  before asking for your advice and assistance.”

我深知福尔摩斯的调查方法，善于领会他的推理。车内灯下挂着一只柳条篮子，里面装着各 种各样的医疗器械，我知道福尔摩斯正是根据这些医疗器械的种类和状况，迅速作出了判断 。从楼上我们窗户的灯光可以看出，这位夜晚的来访者确实是来找我们的。我心里有些奇怪 ：什么事竟使一位同行在这样的时刻来找我们呢？我紧随福尔摩斯走近我们的寓所。

一个面色苍白、尖瘦脸、长着土黄色络腮一胡一子的人，看到我们进来，从壁炉旁一把椅子 上站起来。他的年纪至多三十三、四岁，但他面容憔悴，气色不好，说明生活耗尽了他的一 精一力，夺去了他的青春。他的举止羞怯腼腆，象一位十分敏一感的绅士，而他站起来时， 扶在壁炉台上的那只细瘦白皙的手，不象是一个外科医生的，却象是一个艺术家的。他的衣 着朴素暗淡——一件黑礼服大衣，深色裤子和一条颜色不甚鲜艳的领带。

“晚安，医生，”福尔摩斯爽朗地说道，“我知道你仅仅等了我们几分钟，我很高兴。”

“那么，你和我的车夫谈过了？”

“没有，我是从旁边那张桌子上放着的蜡烛看出来的。请坐，请告诉我，你有什么事要找我 。”

“我是珀西-特里维廉医生，”我们的来访者说道，“住在布鲁克街四○三号。”

“你不是《原因不明的神经损伤》那篇论文的作者吗？”我问道。

他听说我知道他的著作，高兴得苍白的双颊泛出红晕。

“我很少听人谈到这部著作，出版商向我说，这本书销路不广，我还以为没有人知道它呢， ”来访者说道，“我想，你也是一位医生吧？”

“我是一个退役的外科军医。”

“我对神经病学很感兴趣。我很希望能够对它进行专门研究，不过，一个人当然必须从事他 首先能够着手的工作。可是，这是题外话了。歇洛克-福尔摩斯先生，我知道，你的时间是 多么宝贵。在布鲁克街我的寓所里，最近发生了一连串非常奇怪的事情。今晚，这些事情已 经到了非常严重的关头，我感到实在不能再耽误了，必须马上来请你出出主意，帮个忙。”