"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 172 - Let's Kill Ames" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

With his look, he said yes, that was it exactly. With his voice, a voice that sounded as if it wrapped things
in velvet each time it spoke, he said, тАЬDon't quote me on that. I didn't say it.тАЭ

тАЬAnyway,тАЭ I said, тАЬI believe we understand each other.тАЭ

He said he hoped we did. And then he asked, тАЬWhat are you going to do?тАЭ

He listened to me tell him how much of his business it was, but if his ears burned the glow didn't show. It
might be possible to insult him, but a hotel guest couldn't do it. Too many had tried. He smiled and
adjusted the flower in his lapel and probably enjoyed it.

I went over and sat in a chair in the lobby. I wanted to think about it. It needed thinking about, because I
had in the whole world something like five dollars in cash.

That was how I happened to decide to let Nat Pulaski buy me a dinner after all. Pulaski was a sucker
and for two days I had been giving him the boot, but getting locked out of my hotel, having my car taken
back, put a different light on it. Hello, sucker.



Chapter II
PULASKI arrived with more than one thing wrong with him. He came in acting as if there was a
rattlesnake in his clothing somewhere and he couldn't find it.

I detest short men, and Pulaski was a short one. He had moist full lips, but otherwise his face wasn't bad,
although now it was redder than it usually was.

He had a go-around with the revolving door when he came in. He was a little too slow on his feet, and
the door batted his rather ample rear, causing him to stumble, and then he got his topcoat caught in one
of the leaves, and stood jerking foolishly at it. The coat came loose and he stumbled back on legs that
bent at the knees at the wrong times.

Oh, fine! I thought contemptuously. Pulaski has to be tight. Pulaski sober was no bargain.

When he spied me, his round face got the expression that the riders to the hounds get when they sight the
fox. I thought he was going to shout, тАЬTally-ho!тАЭ But he just cried, тАЬOh, ho! Oh, ho!тАЭ And then he came
over carefully enough to be walking on golf balls, and wanted to know, тАЬWhat have I done? Why do you
do these things to me?тАЭ

тАЬWhat things?тАЭ

тАЬThese cruelties,тАЭ he cried. тАЬThese diabolical moods of yours! These refined mistreatments you inflict on
poor old Pulaski! A pox on you, woman!тАЭ

He was usually that way, but not always as bad. There was evidently a little of thwarted ham actor in the
fellow.

He rocked back on his heels, then forward again, stopping the tilting each time just before he upset. He
continued his complaint.