
On glancing over my notes at the seventy-odd cases in which I have studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace.	Wrth edrych dros fy nodiadau ar y tua 70 o achosion lle dwi wedi astudio dulliau fy nghyfaill, Sherlock Holmes, gwelaf fod llawer un yn drasig, rhai’n gomig, a nifer fawr yn ddim ond rhyfedd – ond dim un yn gyffredin.
Working as he did, rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic.	Gan weithio fel y gwnaeth, er cariad tuag at ei gelfyddyd yn hytrach nag am gyfoeth, gwrthododd gysylltu ei hun ag unrhyw ymchwiliad nad oedd yn tueddu tuag at yr anarferol, a hyd yn oed y rhyfedd.
Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran.	O'r holl achosion amrywiol hyn, fodd bynnag, ni allaf gofio unrhyw un oedd yn fwy hynod na'r un oedd yn gysylltiedig â’r teulu adnabyddus o Surrey, y Roylotts o Stoke Moran.
The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms in Baker Street.	Digwyddodd y digwyddiadau dan sylw yn nyddiau cynnar fy nghysylltiad â Holmes, pan oeddem yn rhannu ystafelloedd yn Baker Street.
It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed.	Yn gynnar ym mis Ebrill yn y flwyddyn '83, fe wnes i ddeffro un bore a gweld Sherlock Holmes yn sefyll, wedi gwisgo, wrth ochr fy ngwely.
He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise.	Roedd yn godwr hwyr, fel rheol, ac wrth i'r cloc ar y fantell ddangos i mi mai dim ond chwarter wedi saith oedd hi, caeais ag agorais fy llygaid yn gyflym mewn rhyw syndod.
“Very sorry to wake you up Watson,” he said.	"Mae'n ddrwg iawn gen i am eich deffro chi, Watson," meddai.
“What is it? A fire?”	"Beth sy’n bod? Tân?"
“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me.	"Na, cleient. Mae'n ymddangos bod merch ifanc wedi cyrraedd mewn cryn gyffro, ac mae’n mynnu fy ngweld i.
She is waiting now in the sitting room.	Mae hi'n aros yn yr ystafell eistedd nawr.
I presume that it is something very pressing which she has to communicate.	Dwi'n tybio bod ganddi rywbeth pwysig iawn i’w ddweud.
Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset.	Pe bai'n profi i fod yn achos diddorol, fe fyddech chi, dwi'n siŵr, eisiau ei ddilyn o'r dechrau’n deg.
I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance.”	A meddyliais y dylwn i eich galw a rhoi'r cyfle i chi."
“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”	"Fy nghyfaill annwyl, fyddwn i ddim yn ei golli am unrhyw beth."
I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions.	Ni chaem unrhyw bleser dyfnach nag wrth ddilyn Holmes yn ei ymchwiliadau proffesiynol, ac wrth edmygu'r casgliadau cyflym a wnâi.
I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting room.	Gwisgais yn gyflym ac, mewn ychydig funudau, roeddwn yn barod i fynd gyda fy nghyfaill i lawr i’r ystafell eistedd.
A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we entered.	Wrth i ni gerdded i mewn, cododd dynes mewn du â fêl dros ei hwyneb o’i sedd wrth y ffenest.
“Good morning madam,” said Holmes cheerily.	"Bore da, fadam," meddai Holmes yn llawen.
“My name is Sherlock Holmes.	"Fy enw i yw Sherlock Holmes.
This is my good friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself.	A dyma fy nghyfaill a'm cydymaith, Dr. Watson. Gallwch siarad mor rhydd o’i flaen ef ag o ’mlaen i.
I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire.	Dwi'n falch bod Mrs Hudson wedi gweld yn dda i gynnau'r tân.
I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I see you are shivering.”	Fe wna i alw am gwpanaid o goffi poeth i chi, oherwydd dwi’n gweld eich bod chi’n crynu."
“It is not the cold that makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low voice, changing her seat as requested.	"Nid yr oerfel sy'n gwneud i fi grynu," meddai'r ddynes mewn llais isel, gan newid ei sedd.
“What then?”	"Beth, felly?"
“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.”	"Ofn, Mr Holmes. Arswyd."
She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation.	Cododd y fêl dros ei phen wrth iddi siarad, a gallem weld ei bod hi wir yn aflonydd.
Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and her expression was weary.	Edrychai, o ran ei phryd a’i gwedd, fel dynes 30 oed, ond roedd ei gwallt wedi britho cyn pryd ac roedd golwg flinedig ar ei hwyneb.
“You must not fear,” he said soothingly. “We shall soon set matters right; I have no doubt.”	"Peidiwch ag ofni," meddai Holmes yn ddifrifol. "Bydd popeth yn iawn cyn pen dim; does dim amheuaeth gen i."

Sherlock Holmes

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