"Chesterton, G.K. - The Wisdom of Father Brown" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chesterton G.K)

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir," she said, "but I had to follow
Father Brown at once; it's nothing less than life or death."

Father Brown began to get to his feet in some disorder.
"Why, what has happened, Maggie?" he said.

"James has been murdered, for all I can make out,"
answered the girl, still breathing hard from her rush. "That man Glass
has been with him again; I heard them talking through the door quite plain.
Two separate voices: for James speaks low, with a burr,
and the other voice was high and quavery."

"That man Glass?" repeated the priest in some perplexity.

"I know his name is Glass," answered the girl, in great impatience.
"I heard it through the door. They were quarrelling--about money,
I think--for I heard James say again and again, `That's right, Mr Glass,'
or `No, Mr Glass,' and then, `Two or three, Mr Glass.' But we're talking
too much; you must come at once, and there may be time yet."

"But time for what?" asked Dr Hood, who had been studying
the young lady with marked interest. "What is there about Mr Glass
and his money troubles that should impel such urgency?"

"I tried to break down the door and couldn't," answered the girl shortly,
"Then I ran to the back-yard, and managed to climb on to the window-sill
that looks into the room. It was an dim, and seemed to be empty,
but I swear I saw James lying huddled up in a corner, as if he were
drugged or strangled."

"This is very serious," said Father Brown, gathering his errant hat
and umbrella and standing up; "in point of fact I was just putting
your case before this gentleman, and his view--"

"Has been largely altered," said the scientist gravely.
"I do not think this young lady is so Celtic as I had supposed.
As I have nothing else to do, I will put on my hat and stroll
down town with you."

In a few minutes all three were approaching the dreary tail of
the MacNabs' street: the girl with the stern and breathless stride
of the mountaineer, the criminologist with a lounging grace (which was
not without a certain leopard-like swiftness), and the priest at an
energetic trot entirely devoid of distinction. The aspect of this
edge of the town was not entirely without justification for
the doctor's hints about desolate moods and environments.
The scattered houses stood farther and farther apart in a broken string
along the seashore; the afternoon was closing with a premature and
partly lurid twilight; the sea was of an inky purple and murmuring ominously.