"Machen, Arthur - [07] - B Coney Court" - читать интересную книгу автора (Machen Arthur)

That was all. There was no address. There was no date. The postmark bore the
letter N. The letter was delivered by the first post of November 11, 1913, and
by immemorial custom, of unknown origin, rents in Curzon's Inn are payable not
on the English, but on the Scottish Quarter days. Now, November 11 is Martinmas,
and so far everything was in order, But there is no such entrance in Coney Court
as 7B, and there was no such name as Michael Carver on the books of the Inn.
Mr.Hemmings was bothered, and nobody seemed to have heard of Mr.Carver. The
porter, who had been employed at the Inn for upwards of forty years, was quite
positive that no such name had been on the doorposts during the time of his
service. Of course, the Steward made all possible enquiries. He went round to
the various tenants at 6, 7, and 8, but could get no information whatever. As is
usual in the old Inns, the tenants were miscellaneous. The main substratum -
also as usual - was legal. There was a publisher in a very small and young way
of business, who thought that poetry could be made to pay. There were the
offices of a few shy and queer companies and syndicates, with names such as
"Trexel Development Company, Ltd.," "J.H.V.N. Syndicate," "Sargasso Salvage:
G.Nash, Secretary," and so forth, and so forth. Then the private residents; some
of these were initials on the doorposts, "A.D.S.," "F.X.S.," one "Mr. and Mrs.
Eugene Sheldon," and names that were little more than names to the inhabitants
of the Inn, since the owners of them were never seen during the day, but crept
out at night, after the gates were shut, and prowled from Assay Square to Coney
Court and back again, stealthily, silently, not looking at one another, never
speaking a word. Among all these folk the Steward made his quest, but not one of
them had heard of such a person as Michael Carver, and one or two had occupied
their chambers for thirty years. The next day, "St.Martin's Morrow," being the
day appointed for the quarterly meeting of the Society, the "Pension," as they
called it, the puzzled Hemmings laid the matter before the President and the
Ancients, with the result that they decided that there was nothing to be done.
And from that date onward, quarter after quarter came the cheque for twenty
pounds, with the formal note accompanying it. No date, no address, and the
postmark still bearing the N. of the northern district, The matter was regularly
laid before the Society: the Society as regularly decided that there was nothing
to be done.

This went on till the Martinmas of November, 1918. The usual cheque was
received; but the formal letter varied. It ran thus:

DEAR SIR Please receive the enclosed cheque for Twenty Pounds (г20 0 0), being the
quarter's rent due to you for my Chambers at 7B Coney Court, Curzon's Inn.
There is a bad patch of damp on the ceiling of my sitting room; arising, I should think,
from a defective tile.
I shall be obliged if you will have this seen to at once.
I remain, Yours faithfully

MICHAEL CARVER.
The Steward was stupefied. There was no such number in Coney Court, or the Inn,
as 7B; how, then, could there be a leak in the roof! How could the Society see
to a roof which did not exist? Next day, Mr.Hemmings laid the letter before the
Pension in silence: there was nothing to say. The President read it attentively;
the ten Ancients read it attentively. Then one of them, who happened to be a