"The Wrecker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stevenson Robert Louis)

"That is right, sir," replied the captain, shaking
hands. "You will find the owner, Mr. Dodd, below.
Mind the fresh paint on the house."

Havens stepped along the alley-way, and descended the
ladder into the main cabin.

"Mr. Dodd, I believe," said he, addressing a smallish,
bearded gentleman, who sat writing at the table.--
"Why," he cried, "it isn't Loudon Dodd?"

"Myself, my dear fellow," replied Mr. Dodd, springing
to his feet with companionable alacrity. "I had a
half-hope it might be you, when I found your name on
the papers. Well, there's no change in you; still the
same placid, fresh-looking Britisher."

"I can't return the compliment; for you seem to have
become a Britisher yourself," said Havens.

"I promise you, I am quite unchanged," returned Dodd.
"The red tablecloth at the top of the stick is not my
flag; it's my partner's. He is not dead, but sleepeth.
There he is," he added, pointing to a bust which formed
one of the numerous unexpected ornaments of that
unusual cabin.

Havens politely studied it. "A fine bust," said he;
"and a very nice-looking fellow."

"Yes; he's a good fellow," said Dodd. "He runs me now.
It's all his money."

"He doesn't seem to be particularly short of it," added
the other, peering with growing wonder round the cabin.

"His money--my taste," said Dodd. "The black walnut
bookshelves are old English; the books all mine--mostly
Renaissance French. You should see how the beach-
combers wilt away when they go round them, looking for
a change of seaside library novels. The mirrors are
genuine Venice; that's a good piece in the corner. The
daubs are mine--and his; the mudding mine."

"Mudding? What is that?" asked Havens.

"These bronzes," replied Dodd. "I began life as a
sculptor."