"Ron Goulart - The Prisoner of Blackwood Castle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

Grinning and tipping his hat, Harry eased around the woman and her
mount. He'd been to Cairo once on a case for the Challenge International
Detective Agency and this crooked block-long alley, with its low white
houses and mosques, overhanging upper stories and multicolored
awnings, looked fairly authentic. But it smelled much better than the real
Cairo ever had.
A small ragged Egyptian boy of ten or so thrust a wooden bowl into
Harry's midsection as he passed the alcove the boy was huddled in.
"Baksheesh," the boy requested.
Harry fished out an Orlandian coin of modest denomination and flipped
it into the bowl.
"My mother tell your fortune forтАФтАЭ The boy had stopped talking and
was staring up into Harry's face, mouth slightly ajar.
"Aren't you going to finish your sales pitch?"
"It is of no matter." The boy dodged around him. "Don't waste your
money, for you have no future." He went scurrying away among the legs of
the tourists.
"Damn," reflected Harry as he continued on his way, "people are sure
going out of their way to predict dire things for me."
Well, maybe it wasn't all that damn bright to be pursuing Alicia again
anyway. She was Princess Alicia, after all, and fairly soon she'd be Queen
Alicia. Best thing to do would be to forget what had happened between
them over a year ago.
That wasn't altogether an easy chore, though. Alicia had been unlike
any other woman Harry had ever met. She was beautiful andтАФ
"Dime novel stuff again," he warned himself. At the end of the Egyptian
lane there was a stretch of parklike land, dotted with trees and
wrought-iron benches. On the far side of this small park loomed the
Pavilion of Automatons, a large building with a domed roof. Its walls were
of pale imitation marble, its curving roof was made up of bluish glass
panels set in a fretwork of white metal.
The rain fell heavier now. Harry ran when he reached the grassy area.
At the doorway of the pavilion two British seamen were just turning
away.
"No use, guv," one of them informed him. "She's closed up for the
evenin'."" 'Ad me 'eart set on seein' that clockwork dancin' girl," muttered
his mate.Turning up the collars of their peacoats, they hurried
away.Harry, frowning, approached the closed metal and stained-glass
doors of the darkened pavilion.
Affixed to one of the glass panels was a hastily written note.
 Temporarily Closed.

Hands in pockets, Harry stood with his back to the door. The rain hit
down on the metal awning that sheltered the doorway. There was no sign
of the princess anywhere.
Behind him a door creaked and a thin piping voice called out, "We are
not closed to you, Herr Challenge."
It took Harry a bit more than ten minutes to determine he was the only
living person inside the dimly lit Pavilion of Automatons. He was certain
he was sharing the place with just the two dozen clockwork figures