A Scandal in Bohemia: Chapter 1, part 10

ðə ˈpeɪpə wəz ˈmeɪd ɪm bəˈhiːmiər aɪ ˈsed

prɪˈsaɪsli || ən ðə ˈmæn u ˈrəʊt ðə ˈnəʊts ə ˈʤɜːmən || ʤu ˈnəʊt ðə pɪˈkjuːliə kənˈstrʌkʃn̩ ə ðə ˈsentəns | ˈðɪs əˈkaʊnt əv ju | wiv frəm ˈɔːl ˈkɔːtəz rɪˈsiːvd || ə ˈfrenʧmən ɔːr ə ˈrʌʃŋ̩ | ˈkʊdn̩ əv ˈrɪtn̩ ˈðæt || ɪts ðə ˈʤɜːmən huz ˈsəʊ ʌnˈkɜːtiəs tu ɪz ˈvɜːbz || ɪt ˈəʊnli rɪˈmeɪnz ˈðeəˈfɔː | tə dɪˈskʌvə ˈwɒts ˈwɒntɪb baɪ ðɪs ˈʤɜːmən | hu ˈraɪts əˈpɒm bəˈhiəmiəm ˈpeɪpər | əm prɪˈfɜːz ˈweərɪŋ ə ˈmɑːsk | tə ˈʃəʊɪŋ ɪz ˈfeɪs || ən ˈhɪər i ˈkʌmz | ɪf aɪm ˈnɒp mɪˈsteɪkən | tə rɪˈzɒlv ˈɔːl ɑː ˈdaʊts

ˈæz i ˈspəʊk | ðə wəz ðə ˈʃɑːp ˈsaʊnd | əv ˈhɔːsɪz ˈhuːfs | əŋ ˈɡreɪtɪŋ ˈwiːlz əˈɡens ðə ˈkɜːb | ˈfɒləʊb baɪ ə ˈʃɑːp ˈpʊl ət ðə ˈbel || ˈhəʊmz ˈwɪsl̩d

ə ˈpeə | baɪ ðə ˈsaʊnd i ˈsed || ˈjes i kənˈtɪnjuːd | ˈɡlɑːnsɪŋ ˈaʊt ə ðə ˈwɪndəʊ || ə ˈnaɪs ˈlɪtl̩ ˈbruːəm | ən ə ˈpeər ə ˈbjuːtiz || ə ˈhʌndrəd n̩ ˈfɪfti ˈɡɪniz əˈpiːs || ðəz ˈmʌni ɪn ðɪs ˈkeɪs ˈwɒtsn̩ | ɪf ðəz ˈnʌθɪŋ ˈels

“The paper was made in Bohemia,” I said.

“Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence—‘This account of you we have from all quarters received.’ A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts.”

As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled.

“A pair, by the sound,” said he. “Yes,” he continued, glancing out of the window. “A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else.”