"Vonda N. McIntyre - The Adventure of the Field Theorems" - читать интересную книгу автора (McIntyre Vonda N)

Sir Arthur observed Holmes's method.
"You see, John?" Sir Arthur said. "Even your Mr. Holmes acknowledges the power-- the danger--
present here."
"Sir Arthur," I said in the mildest tone possible, "why should danger result, if the communication is from
those who loved you, in another life?"
"Why..." he said, momentarily awkward, "John, you'll understand after the seance tonight. The other
side is... different."
 Robert ran down the path, panting.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, Sir Arthur," he said. "We kept them away as long as we could. Constable
Brown ordered us to stand aside."
"More devotion to duty than to sense," Sir Arthur muttered. He sighed. "I'm sure you did your best,"
said he to Robert.
A group of curious people, led by Constable Brown and minimally constrained by Robert's children,
approached between the hedgerows. Holmes was right: Someone, somehow, had alerted the public.
Sightseers who had come to see the other field theorem now found themselves doubly fortunate.
The constable entered the field just as Holmes left it. The sightseers crowded up to the fence to view
the new theorem.
Holmes rejoined Sir Arthur and myself.
"I have seen what I needed," Holmes said. "It's of no matter to me if the tourists trample the fields."
"But we must survey the theorem!" Sir Arthur said. "We still do not know its meaning!" He ordered
Robert to do his best to prevent the sightseers from marring the designs.
"If we depart now," Holmes said, "before the constable realizes he is baffled by the phenomenon, we
will be spared interrogation."
Dinner being far preferable to interrogation, we took Holmes's advice. I noticed, to my amusement,
that Robert's children had lined the spectators up. Some visitors even offered the boys tips, or perhaps
entry fees. At least the family would not count its day an utter loss.
A photographer lowered his heavy camera from his shoulder. He set it up on its tripod and
disappeared beneath the black shadow-cloth to focus the lenses. He exposed a plate, setting off a great
explosion of flash powder. Smoke billowed up, bitter and sulfurous.
The journalists began to question Constable Brown, who puffed himself up with importance and
replied to their questions. We hurried away, before the journalists should recognize Sir Arthur-- or
Holmes-- and further delay us.
"If the motor starts," Sir Arthur said, "we will be in time for the seance."
For a moment I wondered if Holmes would turn volte face, return to the field, and submit to
questioning by Constable Brown and the journalists, in preference to submitting to the seance.
To our surprise, the motorcar started without hesitation. As Sir Arthur drove down the lane, Holmes
puzzled over something in his hands.
"What is that, Holmes?"
"Just a bit of wood, a stake," Holmes said, putting it in his pocket. "I found it in the field."
As he was not inclined to discuss it further, we both fell silent. I wondered if we had to contend with--
besides the field theorems, the ghostly lights, and the seance-- with wooden stakes and vampires.
"Tell me, Sir Arthur," Holmes said over the rhythmic cough of the motor, "are any of your spirits
known to live on Mars?"
"Mars?" Sir Arthur exclaimed. "Mars! I don't believe I've ever heard one mention it. But I don't
believe I've ever heard one asked." He turned to Holmes, his eyes bright with anticipation. "We shall ask,
this very evening! Why, that would explain Professor Schiaparelli's 'canali,' would it not?"
"Perhaps," Holmes said. "Though I fail to understand what use channels would be-- to dead people."
Darkness gathered as we motored down the rough lane. Sir Arthur turned on the headlamps of the
autocar, and the beams pierced the dimness, casting eerie shadows and picking out the twisted branches
of trees. The wind in our face was cool and pleasant, if tinged somewhat by the scent of petrol.