The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集.pdf

The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集.pdf


《The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集(英文原版)(套装上下册)》内容简介:This newly published English edition contains 4 fulllength novels and all 56 short stories featuring Sherlock Holmes at over a thousand pages.
Rivers of ink have flowed since 1887, when Sherlock Holmes was first introduced to the world, in an adventure entitled A Study in Scarlet. Most of the great detective's fans know him so well, that they feel they have actually met him. It would therefore be presumptuous to try and define him here, as his many friends and admirers may each have very different views about this legendary personage.
For those who have not made-up their minds, it might be useful if they read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Autobiography, Memories and Adventures. They will undoubtedly come away with the notion that Sherlock Holmes resembles in many ways Dr. Joseph Bell, one of the teachers at the medical school of Edinburgh University…
“英国侦探小说之父” 柯南•道尔创作的《The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集(英文原版)(套装上下册)》可谓是开辟了侦探小说的不朽经典,一百多年来被译成57种文字,畅销世界各地。福尔摩斯更是成了名侦探的代名词,他与华生的搭档组合,都对后世的侦探小说有着极其深远的影响。《夏The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集(英文原版)(套装上下册)》问世100年后,英国皇室决定授予小说同名主人公大侦探福尔摩斯以爵士爵位。英皇授爵的条件是苛刻而严肃的,却破天荒授给一个书上的虚构人物。可见,柯南•道尔100年前的著作有着多么深远的影响和重要意义。
《The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集(英文原版)(套装上下册)》涵盖了四篇长篇、56篇短篇福尔摩斯系列小说,全英文原版出版,同时提供配套英文朗读免费下载,让读者在欣赏精彩故事的同时,亦能提升英语阅读水平。


《The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集(英文原版)(套装上下册)》开辟了侦探小说的不朽经典,一百多年来被译成57种文字,风靡全世界,是历史上最受读者推崇,绝对不可错过的侦探小说;更被推理迷们称为推理小说中的“圣经”,是每一位推理迷必备的案头书籍。《The Complete Sherlock Holmes:夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集(英文原版)(套装上下册)》为全英文原版,涵盖了四篇长篇、56篇短篇福尔摩斯系列小说,同时提供部分英文朗读免费下载。


阿瑟•柯南•道尔爵士(1859-1930),英国杰出的侦探小说家、剧作家、历史学家,被誉为“世界侦探小说之父”。1887年,柯南道尔的第一部侦探小说《血字的研究》问世,这部小说在当时社会引起了强烈的反响,深受广大读者喜爱。于是1889年又发表了他的第二部侦探小说《四签名》,这两部小说中塑造了“福尔摩斯”这一神探形象。此后,柯南•道尔又陆续发表了一系列以“福尔摩斯”为主要人物的中篇小说,皆收入到《夏洛克•福尔摩斯全集》中。1900年,柯南•道尔以军医身份到南非参与布尔战争(The Bore War)。因在野战医院表现出色,获封爵士。1930年7月7日过世,享年71岁。
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a Scottish physician and writer, most noted for his stories about the detective Sherlock Holmes, generally considered milestones in the field of crime fiction, and for the adventures of Professor Challenger.
He was a prolific writer whose other works include fantasy and science fiction stories, plays, romances, poetry, non-fiction and historical novels.
Arthur Conan Doyle was born on 22 May 1859 at Picardy Place, Edinburgh. He died of a heart attack at the age of 71. His last words were directed toward his wife: “You are wonderful.”

Volume Ⅰ
A Study in Scarlet
Part I
Being a reprint from the reminiscences of JOHN H WATSON, MD,
late of the Army Medical Department
Mr Sherlock Holmes 2
The Science of Deduction 8
The Lauriston Garden Mystery 15
What John Rance Had To Tell 24
Our Advertisement Brings A Visitor 29
Tobias Gregson Shows What He Can Do 34
Light in the Darkness 42
Part II
The Country of the Saints
On the Great Alkali Plain 50
The Flower of Utah 58
John Ferrier Talks With The Prophet 63
A Flight For Life67
The Avenging Angels74
A Continuation of the Reminiscences of John Watson, MD81
The Conclusion90
The Sign of Four
The Science of Deduction 96
The Statement of the Case 102
In Quest of a Solution 106
The Story of the Bald-Headed Man 110
The Tragedy of Pondicherry Lodge 118
Sherlock Holmes Gives a Demonstration 123
The Episode of the Barrel 130
The Baker Street Irregulars 139
A Break in the Chain 146
The End of the Islander 154
The Great Agra Treasure 160
The Strange Story of Jonathan Small 165
The Hound of the Baskervilles
Mr Sherlock Holmes186
The Curse of the Baskervilles 191
The Problem199
Sir Henry Baskerville206
Three Broken Threads 215
Baskerville Hall223
The Stapletons of Merripit House 230
First Report of Dr Watson 241
Second Report of Dr Watson 246
Extract from the Diary of Dr Watson260
The Man on the Tor267
Death on the Moor277
Fixing the Nets286
The Hound of the Baskervilles 295
A Retrospection304
The Valley of Fear
Part I The Tragedy of Birlstone
The Warning 314
Sherlock Holmes Discourses 320
The Tragedy of Birlstone 327
Darkness 334
The People of the Drama 342
A Dawning Light 351
The Solution 361
Part II The Scowrers
The Man 373
The Bodymaster 380
Lodge 341, Vermissa 392
The Valley of Fear 404
The Darkest Hour 412
Danger 422
The Trapping of Birdy Edwards 429
Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
A Scandal in Bohemia 440
The Red-Headed League 459
A Case of Identity478
The Boscombe Valley Mystery 493
The Five Orange Pips513
The Man with the Twisted Lip 529
The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle548
The Adventure of the Speckled Band565
The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb586
The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor604
The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet621
The Adventure of the Copper Beeches641
Volume Ⅱ
Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes
Silver Blaze 664
The Yellow Face 684
The Stock-Broker’s Clerk 699
The “Gloria Scott”714
The Musgrave Ritual 730
The Reigate Puzzle745
The Crooked Man 761
The Resident Patient 775
The Greek Interpreter 791
The Naval Treaty 806
The Final Problem 834
The Return of Sherlock Holmes
The Adventure of Wisteria Lodg
The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes

Mr. Sherlock Holmes
IN the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the Army. Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy’s country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties.
The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.
Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to the base hospital at Peshawar. Here I rallied, and had already improved so far as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to bask a little upon the verandah, when I was struck down by enteric fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to England. I was despatched, accordingly, in the troopship “Orontes”, and landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my health irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal government to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it.
I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as air—or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the Strand, leading a comfortless, meaningless existence, and spending such money as I had, considerably more freely than I ought. So alarming did the state of my finances become, that I soon realized that I must either leave the metropolis and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that I must make a complete alteration in my style of living. Choosing the latter alternative, I began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive domicile.
On the very day that I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at the Criterion Bar, when someone tapped me on the shoulder, and turning round I recognized young Stamford, who had been a dresser under me at Bart’s. The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man. In old days Stamford had never been a particular crony of mine, but now I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be delighted to see me. In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to lunch with me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a hansom.
“Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Watson?” he asked in undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowded London streets. “You are as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut.” I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and had hardly concluded it by the time that we reached our destination.
“Poor devil!” he said, commiseratingly, after he had listened to my misfortunes. “What are you up to now?”
“Looking for lodgings,” I answered. “Trying to solve the problem as to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable price.”
“That’s a strange thing,” remarked my companion; “you are the second man today that has used that expression to me.”
“And who was the first?” I asked.
“A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much for his purse.”
“By Jove!” I cried; “if he really wants someone to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a partner to being alone.” Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wineglass.
“You don’t know Sherlock Holmes yet,” he said; “perhaps you would not care for him as a constant companion.”
“Why, what is there against him?”
“Oh, I didn’t say there was anything against him. He is a little queer in his ideas—an enthusiast in some branches of science. As far as I know he is a decent fellow enough.”
“A medical student, I suppose?” said I.
“No—I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist; but, as far as I know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. His studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out-of-the-way knowledge which would astonish his professors.”


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