"Why, Dr. Watson, that's not you, is it? You are the last man that I should have expected to see out on the moor at this time of night. But, dear me, what's this? Somebody hurt? Not--don't tell me that it is our friend Sir Henry!" He hurried past me and stooped over the dead man. I heard a sharp intake of his breath and the cigar fell from his fingers.
Podbiegł i nachylił się nad zwłokami. Słyszałem jego oddech przyśpieszony, cygaro z rąk mu wypadło.