"Clayton Emery - Robin & Marian - Dowsing The Demon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

panting between his feet. To him, Robin said, "You've shown your skill, dowser. Your --" he gestured,
"-- stick led us true. No doubt you'll fetch a reward from the town elders."
Somber for the first time, the magician mumbled, "Would the saints could raise up the dead and erase this
day. Then would we all be paid."
Marian caught Robin's eye, nodded towards his middle. Without letting the sheriff see, the outlaw tossed
some silver pennies into the depths of the ruined house.
Limping, grumbling, cradling their wounds, the party and the dog tottered towards the river. They left the
dead murderer where he lay, and his sister weeping over him.
Rather than hunt up a boat, they threaded the mucky streets and crossed the bridge, filtered through the
marketplace. Robin caught his wife's elbow and spoke low. "There's much left unexplained. I can guess
how he closed the door and barred it, but how did he open it?"
"He didn't, but it opened," Marian whispered. "I've figured that out. But how he closed it --"
"Well, I can -- he didn't open it but it opened?"
"Hush. You'll see."
The house came in view, with the sheriff's son deputy and curious crowd before it. With them was an
exasperated priest eager to deliver a prayer for the dead, but the boy obviously feared the wrath of his
father more than the wrath of God. The boy looked relieved to see his father, then dismayed at his
bandaged arm and cross expression.
As they stopped before the house, Robin said. "My curiousity may kill me yet, but I can vouchsafe some
answers. I know how the door was barred."
The sheriff raised his hand to rub his chin and winced. "Get on with it, then. I needs get drunk soon. This
wound burns like the pit."
Robin shoved the door open. The bodies remained undisturbed. Flies buzzed around their dead faces.
The outlaw plucked the bar from behind the door and brought it out into the sunlight. He pointed to
yellowish smears dotted down one side. "Beeswax. Someone kneaded lumps of it, pressed them against
the battens, stuck the bar to them. When the door was banged shut, the shock dropped the bar into the
iron brackets. So the murderer left the house locked behind him."
The sheriff frowned and thumped his club in the street. "P'raps. May be. I don't think Nicholas were
clever enough to think on it, and I can't see why he'd bother. And how'd he open the door in the first
place?"
"He didn't," Marian said. "I can explain that. Rob, step inside and bar the door, please."
"The brackets are broken."
Marian smiled sweetly at her husband. "Pretend to bar it, then. Dear."
Shrugging, Robin stepped into the charnel house and closed the door. He was alone with corpses and
flies. Shuddering, he propped the bar against the cracked door and called, "Right! It's barred! Now
what?"
Marian's voice came through the window. "Oh, Rob. I forgot something. Come out again, please."
Mentally scratching his head, Robin took down the bar and opened the door. "What is it now, Marian?"
The sheriff scowled. "Not Matilda?"
The wife only smiled. "Notice I got the door open. All I did was ask."
"But..." said most of the men. The sheriff grumbled, "Jabin wouldn't open the door for a stranger. And
Nicholas couldn't talk anyway. He had no tongue."
"Exactly," said Marian. "Somebody else --"
"Catch him!" shouted Robin. He jumped but was too late.
Peter pelted down the street and careened around a corner.
"Them alleys are all twisty!" shouted the sheriff. "He can go a hundred different ways! Get after him,
Berthold! Use your legs!"
Robin snagged the piebald sleeve of Denis the Dowser. "Come on, man! You needs track like you never
tracked before!" Surprised by the sudden turn of events, gulping for air, Denis was tugged along, his dog
treading under his feet. The sheriff's son tromped ahead of them.