"Simon Hawke - Wizard 7 - The Wizard of Camelot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

Jenny opened the door a crack and peered out, then gasped and shut it again
quickly. "Tom..." she said, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "look!"

I went to the door and opened it. We'd been in the bedroom only a few
minutes,
and yet already the table was clear and set for breakfast in the morning. I
carefully tiptoed out and, with Jenny right behind me, checked the kitchen.
The
dishes had not only been washed, but they were dry and stacked in their
proper
places in the cupboard, and the food had all been put away.

The old man sat in the darkened living room, illuminated only by the
flickering
firelight, with his back to us. He was watching the telly with rapt
fascination,
smoke curling up from his pipe. Not only had the table been cleared, the
dishes
washed and dried, and the food put away, but the entire house was absolutely
spotless.

"Wonderful thing, this box," said Merlin, speaking with his back to us,
though
we'd made hardly a sound coming out of the bedroom. "I have quite a bit of
catching up to do, it seems. This should prove quite helpful."

"Uh... yes," I replied uneasily. "I, uh, see you've tidied up some. Thank
you."

"No need to mention it," he said. "It was no trouble at all."

"Yes... well... good night."

"Good night. Sleep well."

We went back into the bedroom and shut the door. For a long moment, we simply
stared at one another, unable to think of a single thing to say. Jenny
moistened
her lips and finally broke the silence.

"Tom... I think he really is Merlin!"

"Well, there's one way to be certain," I said. "In the morning, you can ask
him
to turn into an owl and if he does, I suppose that'll clinch it. The girls
will
get quite a kick out of that."

"How can you joke at a time like this?" she asked.