ɪt wəz ˈkləʊs əˈpɒn ˈfɔː | bəˈfɔː ðə ˈdɔːr ˈəʊpənd | ən ə ˈdrʌŋkən ˈlʊkɪŋ ˈɡruːm | ˈɪl ˈkemt ən ˈsaɪd ˈwɪskəd | wɪð ən ɪnˈfleɪmd ˈfeɪs | ən dɪsˈrepjutəbl̩ ˈkləʊz | ˈwɔːkt ɪntə ðə ˈruːm || əˈkʌstəmd əz aɪ ˈwɒz | tə maɪ ˈfrenz əˈmeɪzɪŋ ˈpaʊəz | ɪn ðə ˈjuːs əv dɪsˈɡaɪzɪz | aɪ ˈhæt tə ˈlʊk ˈθriː ˈtaɪmz | bɪˈfɔːr aɪ wəz ˈsɜːtn̩ | ðət ɪt wəz ɪnˈdiːd ˈhiː || wɪð ə ˈnɒd i ˈvænɪʃt ɪntə ˈbedruːm | ˈwens i əˈmɜːʤd | ɪn ˈfaɪv ˈmɪnɪts | ˈtwiːd ˈsuːtɪd ən rəˈspektəbl̩ | ˈæz əv ˈəʊld || ˈpʊtɪŋ ɪz ˈhænz ɪntu ɪz ˈpɒkɪts | hi ˈstreʧt aʊt ɪz ˈleɡz | ɪn ˈfrʌnt ə ðə ˈfaɪə | ən ˈlɑːft ˈhɑːtəli | fə ˈsʌm ˈmɪnɪts
ˈwel ˈrɪəli hi ˈkraɪd | ən ˈðen i ʧəʊkt ən ˈlɑːft əˈɡen | ənˈtɪl i wəz əˈblaɪʤ tə ˈlaɪ ˈbæk | ˈlɪmp ən ˈhelpləs | ɪn ðə ˈʧeə
ˈwɒt ˈɪz ɪt
ɪts ˈkwaɪt ˈtuː ˈfʌni | aɪm ˈʃɔː ju kəd ˈnevə ˈɡes | ˈhaʊ aɪ ɪmˈplɔɪb maɪ ˈmɔːnɪŋ | ɔː ˈwɒt aɪ ˈendɪb baɪ ˈduːɪŋ
aɪ ˈkɑːnt əˈmæʤən | aɪ səˈpəʊz ðəʧuv bɪn ˈwɒʧɪŋ ðə ˈhæbɪts | əm pəˈhæts ðə ˈhaʊs | əv ˈmɪs ˈaɪriːn ˈædlə
Doyle, Arthur Conan. The Original Illustrated Sherlock Holmes. “Reproduced from the original publication in The Strand Magazine with the classic illustrations by Sidney Paget.” Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books, [after 1954]. Internet Archive version of a copy donated by Friends of the San Francisco Library. http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/pagets/5.html
It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes.
“Well, really!” he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair.
“What is it?”
“It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by doing.”“I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler.”