"Robert Rankin - Snuff Fiction" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robert Rankin)

criminal to justice.'
`Doveston,' said Mr Vaux, `do you know the penalty for lying in this school?'
Doveston munched thoughtfully upon his chewing gum. `I do, sir, yes,' he said at length. `I do, sir,
yes indeed.'
`That is good,' said Mr Vaux. `For although the punishment falls somewhat short of that inflicted
upon Damiens, it has always in the past proved itself to be a powerful deterrent in the fight against
mendacity and falsehood.'
`Yes indeed,' said Doveston once more.
`So, with that firmly understood, perhaps you would care to share with us the details of your day?'
`I would, sir. Yes please.'
`Then do so.' Mr Vaux settled himself down at his desk, stubbed out his cigarette and put his hands
behind his Brylcreemed head. `The floor is yours,' he said, `so say your piece.
`Thank you, sir, I will.' The boy Doveston thrust his hands once more into the pockets of his shorts
and sniffed away a runner from his nose. `You see, sir,' he began, `I left my house early, because I had
to do an errand for my mum and I didn't want to be late for school. My mum had asked me to go to old
Mr Hartnell's corner shop and buy her a packet of Duchess. Those are the new perfumed cigarettes
from Carberry's of Holborn. The tobacco is a light mellow Virginia, flavoured with bergamot and
sandalwood. And although I do not

*Pardon is granted to necessity .


condemn the use of essential oils in the preparation of snuff, it is a different matter with cigarettes,
tending to adulterate the taste of the tobacco rather than enhance it. I feel that with Duchess, as with
Lady Grey's and Her Favourites, the application has been over-liberal. In my opinion, the perfuming of
cigarettes is little more than an exotic blandishment, designed to lure gullible female smokers away from
their regular brands.'
`An argument most eloquently put,' said Mr Vaux, his eyebrows raised. `I had no idea that you
were aufait with the subtleties of the tobacco--blender's craft.'
`Oh yes, sir. When I grow up I intend to go into the trade. I have certain ideas that I think will
revolutionize it.'
`Do you now? Well, I'm sure that they're all very interesting. But please confine yourself to the
matter in hand.'
`Yes, sir. So I went into old Mr Hartnell's to purchase the ciga-rettes. Which, I might add, cost one
and fourpence for ten, an outrageous sum. And there was a chap waiting to be served before me. He
was dressed in the garb of a road-sweeper, but I chanced to notice that his shoes were highly polished.
My suspicions were further aroused when he asked to buy a packet of cigarettes.'
`Why?' asked Mr Vaux.
`Because he asked for a packet of Carroll's Golden Glories, a tipped cigarette smoked almost
exclusively by the gentry. No road-sweeper would ever smoke a tipped cigarette, let alone a Carroll's.
And then, sir, if this wasn't enough, he paid with a five-pound note.'
`Incredible,' said Mr Vaux.
`Incredible,' we all agreed.
And it was incredible. And as we listened and the boy Doveston spoke, the tale that unfolded was
more than incredible.
It was exciting too.
He had followed the man from old Mr Hartnell's corner shop, down Moby Dick Terrace, along
Abaddon Street to an empty house on the edge of the bomb site at the Half Acre. We knew all the
empty houses in Brentford, but we'd never been able to get into this one because it was so well boarded
up.