The Huntsman

by Anton ChekhovA SUL­TRY, sti­fling mid­day. Not a cloudlet in the sky.... The sun-baked grass had a dis­con­so­late, hope­less look: even if there were rain it could never be green again.... The for­est stood silent, mo­tion­less, as though it were look­ing at some­thing with its tree-tops or ex­pect­ing some­thing.At the edge of the clear­ing a tall, nar­row-shoul­dered man of forty in a red shirt, in patched trousers that had been a gen­tle­man's, and in high boots, was slouch­ing along with a lazy, sham­bling step. He was saun­ter­ing along the road. On the right was the green of the clear­ing, on the left a golden sea of ripe rye stretched to the very hori­zon. He was red and per­spir­ing, a white cap with a straight jockey peak, ev­i­dently a gift from some Read more [...]

The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet

"Holmes," said I as I stood one morn­ing in our bow-win­dow look­ing down the street, "here is a mad­man com­ing along. It seems rather sad that his re­l­at­ives should al­low him to come out alone."My friend rose lazily from his arm­chair and stood with his hands in the pock­ets of his dress­ing-gown, look­ing over my shoulder. It was a bright, crisp Feb­ru­ary morn­ing, and the snow of the day be­fore still lay deep upon the ground, shim­mer­ing brightly in the wintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed in­to a brown crumbly band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The gray pave­ment had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dan­ger­ously slip­pery, so that there Read more [...]

The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor

The Lord St. Si­mon mar­riage, and its curi­ous ter­min­a­tion, have long ceased to be a sub­ject of in­terest in those ex­al­ted circles in which the un­for­tu­nate bride­groom moves. Fresh scan­dals have ec­lipsed it, and their more pi­quant de­tails have drawn the gos­sips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reas­on to be­lieve, however, that the full facts have nev­er been re­vealed to the gen­er­al pub­lic, and as my friend Sher­lock Holmes had a con­sid­er­able share in clear­ing the mat­ter up, I feel that no mem­oir of him would be com­plete without some little sketch of this re­mark­able epis­ode.It was a few weeks be­fore my own mar­riage, dur­ing the days when I was still shar­ing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home Read more [...]