"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 07 - Pearl of Patmos" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

They left Copra House by a side entrance and came intoLothbury Street . The newsboy was still
placarding his black headline. Blade nodded toward the man and said, "Who in the hell do you suppose
David is?" It was in the nature of a rhetorical question. J was the last man to beau courantwithLondon 's
various subcultures.
J surprised him. He glanced at the placard and then smiled at Blade. "You're rather out of things
down inDorset , I see."
"True. I like it that way. And if I did have a paper brought to the cottage it wouldn't beNews of The
World."
J raised a finger to a taxi. It ignored them. J joined Blade again on the curb. "You mustn't be smug,
Richard. Admittedly the paper is an abomination, a penny dreadful, but it does have a certain zest and life
to it. Vulgar, yes, but alive." J made a prim mouth. "There are moments when I think theTimescould do
with a little vulgarity."
Blade did not hear him, not really. He was staring across the busy street at the newsboy. LADY
DIANA DUCKS DAVID The newsboy was holding up a paper, quarter folded, and Blade could see
that there was a picture, a three column 'cut,' beneath the screaming headline. The photo was of a
woman, but even Blade's eyes could not make out details at that distance.
J signaled another taxi and was again ignored. Blade crossed the street and bought a paper, giving
the man a shilling and not staying for his change. He recrossed to where J stared in surprise, glancing at
the picture as he nimbly dodged a lorry.
It was she. His Diana. Diana of the beach. It was incredible, impossibleтАФyet there she was smiling
out of the page. It was a posed studio shot, a still. The caption beneath it said:Lady Diana as she
appeared in her most recent film, "No More Camelots."
Of course. That was where he had seen her. In the flicks. In scores of magazines and papers.
As he rejoined J on the curb the old man said, "You must be very curious indeed, Richard. Risking
traffic like this for a thruppenny paper."
 Blade grinned at his chief. "I get these spells, sir. Worse than any cat." He affected a Cockney
accent. "Cor, mate, it comes over me all sudden, it does. If I don't know who David is I'll blow me
flipping lid."
J missed hailing an empty taxi and muttered a genteel curse. "I could have told you that, my boy. Sir
David Throckmorton-Pell. The lady's husband."
Blade kept an impassive face. He glanced again at the picture of Diana. Lady Diana! The minx. She
had used her right name.
"I've heard of Sir David, of course. The judge. The one who sits in the Old Bailey? A pretty savage
old boy, from all I've read."
J had his own sense of humor. He said, "That's the one. They call him 'The Rope,' I hear, and I
hardly suppose it is because he likes to tie knotsтАФunless they are hangman's knots."
Blade hardly heard him. He was staring at the picture and remembering. The blue sea. Green eyes.
Sinking down and down untilтАФ
"RichardтАФRichard! Good grief, man. Are you in a trance?"
Blade glanced up. J had snared a taxi and was already ensconced, the door open and waiting, the
driver looking impatient. Blade folded the paper and thrust it into his jacket pocket. "Sorry, sir.
Wool-gathering again."
J directed the taximan to the Tower and then gave Blade a sharp glance. Blade avoided his eyes and
stared out at the traffic. It was clotted like stale jam. They would be a time getting to the Tower.
J said, "Why the interest in Lady Diana's peccadilloes? Do you know the lady?"
Blade avoided a direct lie, but only just. "Not really know her," he said. "I've seen her in films."
He didnotreally know her. He thought of the old joke about sexual congress not constituting an
introduction, and had difficulty in repressing a smile.