"Stevenson, Robert Louis - New Arabian Nights" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stevenson Robert Louis)

"I am afraid," said the Colonel, "that I must ask you to be more
explicit. You must remember that I am still most imperfectly
acquainted with the rules of the club."

"An ordinary member who comes here in search of death like
yourself," replied the paralytic, "returns every evening until
fortune favours him. He can even, if he is penniless, get board
and lodging from the President: very fair, I believe, and clean,
although, of course, not luxurious; that could hardly be,
considering the exiguity (if I may so express myself) of the
subscription. And then the President's company is a delicacy in
itself."

"Indeed!" cried Geraldine, "he had not greatly prepossessed me."

"Ah!" said Mr. Malthus, "you do not know the man: the drollest
fellow! What stories! What cynicism! He knows life to admiration
and, between ourselves, is probably the most corrupt rogue in
Christendom."

"And he also," asked the Colonel, "is a permanency - like yourself,
if I may say so without offence?"

"Indeed, he is a permanency in a very different sense from me,"
replied Mr. Malthus. "I have hem graciously spared, but I must go
at last. Now he never plays. He shuffles and deals for the club,
and makes the necessary arrangements. That man, my dear Mr.
Hammersmith, is the very soul of ingenuity. For three years he has
pursued in London his useful and, I think I may add, his artistic
calling; and not so much as a whisper of suspicion has been once
aroused. I believe him myself to be inspired. You doubtless
remember the celebrated case, six months ago, of the gentleman who
was accidentally poisoned in a chemists shop? That was one of the
least rich, one of the least racy, of his notions; but then, how
simple! and how safe!"

"You astound me," said the Colonel. "Was that unfortunate
gentleman one of the - " He was about to say "victims"; but
bethinking himself in time, he substituted - "members of the club?"

In the same flash of thought, it occurred to him that Mr. Malthus
himself had not at all spoken in the tone of one who is in love
with death; and he added hurriedly:

"But I perceive I am still in the dark. You speak of shuffling and
dealing; pray for what end? And since you seem rather unwilling to
die than otherwise, I must own that I cannot conceive what brings
you here at all."