aɪ ˈslept əp ˈbeɪkə ˈstriːt ˈðæt
ˈnaɪt | ən wi wər ɪŋˈɡeɪʤd əˈpɒn ɑː ˈtəʊst əŋ ˈkɒfi | ɪn ðə ˈmɔːnɪŋ
| ˈwen ðə ˈkɪŋ əv bəˈhiːmiə ˈrʌʃt ɪntə ðə ˈruːm
juv ˈrɪəli ˈɡɒt ɪt i ˈkraɪd |
ˈɡrɑːspɪŋ ˈʃɜːlɒk ˈhəʊmz | baɪ ˈaɪðə ˈʃəʊldər | ən ˈlʊkɪŋ ˈiːɡəli
ˈɪntu ɪz ˈfeɪs
ˈnɒt ˈjet
bəʧu ˈhæv ˈhəʊps
aɪ ˈhæv ˈhəʊps
ðeŋ ˈkʌm || aɪm ˈɔːl ɪmˈpeɪʃn̩s
tə bi ˈɡɒn
wi ˈmʌst ˈhæv ə ˈkæb
ˈnəʊ | maɪ ˈbruːəmz
ˈweɪtɪŋ
ðen ˈðætl̩ ˈsɪmpləfaɪ ˈmætəz ||
wi dɪˈsendɪd | ən ˈstɑːtɪd ˈɒf ˈwʌns ˈmɔː | fə ˈbraɪəni ˈlɒʤ
ˈaɪriːn ˈædləz ˈmærid rɪˈmɑːkt
ˈhəʊmz
ˈmærid || ˈwen
ˈjestədeɪ
bət tə ˈhuːm
tu ən ˈɪŋɡlɪʃ ˈlɔɪə | ˈneɪmd ˈnɔːtn̩
bət ʃi ˈkʊd ˈnɒt ˈlʌv ɪm
aɪm ɪn ˈhəʊps ðət ʃi ˈdʌz
ən ˈwaɪ ɪn ˈhəʊps
bɪˈkɒz ɪt əd ˈspeə jɔː ˈmæʤəsti
| ˈɔːl ˈfɪər əv ˈfjuːʧər əˈnɔɪəns || ɪf ðə ˈleɪdi ˈlʌvz ɜː ˈhʌzbənd
| ʃi ˈdʌzn̩ ˈlʌv jɔː ˈmæʤəsti || ɪf ʃi ˈdʌzn̩ ˈlʌv jɔː ˈmæʤəsti |
ðəz ˈnəʊ ˈriːzn̩ | ˈwaɪ ʃi ʃʊd ˈɪntəˈfɪə | wɪð jɔː ˈmæʤəstiz ˈplæn
ɪts ˈtruː || ən ˈjet | ˈwel
|| aɪ ˈwɪʃ ʃib ˈbiːn əv maɪ ˈəʊn ˈsteɪʃn̩ || ˈwɒt ə ˈkwiːn ʃid əv
ˈmeɪd || hi rɪˈlæpst ɪntu ə ˈmuːdi ˈsaɪləns | wɪʧ wəz ˈnɒp ˈbrəʊkən
| ənˈtɪl wi ˈdruː ˈʌp | ɪn ˈsɜːpəntaɪn ˈævənjuː
I slept at Baker Street that night, and
we were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of
Bohemia rushed into the room.
“You have really got
it!” he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly
into his face.
“Not yet.”
“But you have hopes?”
“I have hopes.”
“Then, come. I am all
impatience to be gone.”
“We must have a cab.”
“No, my brougham is
waiting.”
“Then that will
simplify matters.” We descended and started off once more for Briony Lodge.
“Irene Adler is
married,” remarked Holmes.
“Married! When?”
“Yesterday.”
“But to whom?”
“To an English lawyer
named Norton.”
“But she could not
love him.”
“I am in hopes that
she does.”
“And why in hopes?”
“Because it would
spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If the lady loves her husband,
she does not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no
reason why she should interfere with your Majesty's plan.”
“It is true. And yet—Well!
I wish she had been of my own station! What a queen she would have made!” He
relapsed into a moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in
Serpentine Avenue.
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