Fashion Sneakers NB 1600 New Balance CM1600FR - Date 2014-5-14
"Oh, no, no! I want the doctor's advice and New Balance M1300DG help, too. It's about Isa. He has not been
home for two days. I am so frightened about him!"
It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her husband's trouble, to me as
a doctor, to my wife as an old friend and school companion. We soothed and
comforted her by such words as we could find. Did she know where her husband
was? Was it possible that we could bring him back to her?
It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late he had, when the fit
was on him, made use of an opium den in the farthest east of the City. Hitherto his
orgies had always been confined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and
shattered, in the evening. But now the spell had been upon him eight- and-forty
hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing in the
poison or sleeping off the effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, at the
New Balance MO1320-C Bar of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How could she, a
young and timid woman, make her way into such a place and pluckher husband out
from among the ruffians who surrounded him?
There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it. Might I not escort
her to this place? And then, as a second thought, why should she come at all? I was
Isa Whitney's medical adviser, and as such I had influence over him. I could manage it
better if I were alone. I promised her on my word that I would send him home in a
cab within two hours if he were indeed at the address which she had given me. And
so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, and was
speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed to me at the time,
though the future only could show how strange it was to be.
But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure. Upper Swandam
Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line the north side of the
river to the east of London Bridge. Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached
by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, I found
the den of which I was in search. Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps,
worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the light of
a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch and made my way into a long,
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Page 110
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