"Smith, Wilbur - Shout At The Devil" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Wilbur)

"I mean" and Sebastian blushed slightly. "There isn't anything
illegal, is there?"

"Bassie." Flynn shook his head sorrowfully. "What do you take me for,
Bassie? You think I'm a crook or something, boy?"

oh, no, of course not, Flynn," and Sebastian blushed a shade deeper. "I
just thought well, all these elephants we're going to shoot. They must
belong to somebody. Aren't they German elephants?"

"Bassie, I want to show you something." Flynn set down his glass and
groping in the inside pocket of his wilted tropical suit, he produced
an envelope. "Read that, boy!"

The address at the head of the sheet of cheap notepaper was "The
Kaiserh of Berlin. Dated June 10, 191"-, and the body of the letter
read:

Dear Mr. Flynn O'Flynn, I am worried about all those elephants down in
the Rufiji basin eating up all the grass and smashing up all the trees
and things, so if you've got time, would you go down there and shoot
some of them as they're eating up all the grass and smashing up all the
trees and things.

Yours sincerely, Kaiser Willem 111.

Emperor of Germany.

A vague uneasiness formed through the clouds of gin in Sebastian's
skull. "Why did he write to you?"

"Because he knows I'm the best goddamned elephant hunter in the
world."

"You'd expect him to use better English, wouldn't you?"

Sebastian murmured.

"What's wrong with his English?" Flynn demanded truculently. He had
spent some time in composing the letter.

"Well, I mean that bit about eating up all the grass he said that
twice."

"Well, you got to remember he's a German. They don't write English too
good."

"Of course! I hadn't thought of that." Sebastian looked relieved and
lifted his glass. "Well, good hunting!"