"Dahl, Roald - Beware of the Dog" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dahl Roald)

to see you in about an hour."
She picked up the basin and the medicine glass and went out.
But he did not sleep. He wanted to keep his eyes open because he was frightened that if he shut
them again everything would
go away. He lay looking at the ceiling. The fly was still there. It was very energetic. It would run
forward very fast for a few
inches, then it would stop. Then it would run forward again, stop, run forward, stop, and every
now and then it would take off
and buzz around viciously in small circles. It always landed back in the same place on the ceiling
and started running and
stopping all over again. He watched it for so long that after a while it was no longer a fly, but
only a black speck upon a sea of
gray, and he was still watching it when the nurse opened the door, and stood aside while the
doctor came in. He was an Army
doctor, a major, and he had some last war ribbons on his chest. He was bald and small, but he
had a cheerful face and kind
eyes.
"Well, well," he said. "So you've decided to wake up at last. How are you feeling?"
"I feel all right."
"That's the stuff. You'll be up and about in no time."
The doctor took his wrist to feel his pulse.
"By the way," he said, "some of the lads from your squadron were ringing up and asking about
you. They wanted to come along
BEWARE OF THE DOG
Get any book for free on: www.Abika.com
6
and see you, but I said that they'd better wait a day or two. Told them you were all right, and that
they could come and see you
a little later on. Just lie quiet and take it easy for a bit. Got something to read?" He glanced at the
table with the roses. "No.
Well, nurse will look after you. She'll get you anything you want." With that he waved his hand
and went out, followed by the
large clean nurse.
When they had gone, he lay back and looked at the ceiling again. The fly was still there and as he
lay watching it he heard the
noise of an airplane in the distance. He lay listening to the sound of its engines. It was a long way
away. I wonder what it is, he
thought. Let me see if I can place it. Suddenly he jerked his head sharply to one side. Anyone
who has been bombed can tell
the noise of a Junkers 88. They can tell most other German bombers for that matter, but
especially a Junkers 88. The engines
seem to sing a duet. There is a deep vibrating bass voice and with it there is a high pitched tenor.
It is the singing of the tenor
which makes the sound of a JU-88 something which one cannot mistake.
He lay listening to the noise, and he felt quite certain about what it was. But where were the
sirens, and where the guns? That
German pilot certainly had a nerve coming near Brighton alone in daylight.
The aircraft was always far away, and soon the noise faded away into the distance. Later on there
was another. This one, too,
was far away, but there was the same deep undulating bass and the high singing tenor, and there