"Stanley G. Weinbaum - The Adaptive Ultimate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinbaum Stanley G)

old friend of mine." She was completely at ease, unruffled, poised.

Something caught Scott's eye, and he purchased a paper, glancing quickly at the photograph, the one
taken at the moment the girl had removed her hat. He started; her hair showed raven black! There was a
comment below the picture, too, to the effect that "her striking hair photographs much darker than it
appears to the eye."

He frowned. "This way," he said to the girl, then goggled in surprise again. For in the broad light of noon
her complexion was no longer the white of alabaster; it was creamy tan, the skin of one exposed to long
hours of sunlight; her eyes were deep violet, and her hairтАФthat tiny wisp unconcealed by her hatтАФwas
as black as the basalt columns of hell!

Kyra had insisted on stopping to purchase a substitute for the worn black suit, and had ended by
acquiring an entire outfit. She sat now curled in the deep davenport before the fireplace in Dr. Bach's
library, sheathed in silken black from her white throat to the tiny black pumps on her feet. She was
almost unearthly in her weird beauty, with her aluminum hair, silver eyes, and marble-pale skin against the
jet silk covering.

She gazed innocently at Scott. "But why shouldn't I?" she asked. "The court returned my money; I can
buy what I please with it."

"Your money?" he muttered. "You had less than three dollars when you left the hospital."
"But this is mine now."

"Kyra," he said abruptly, "where did you get that money?"

Her face was saintlike in its purity. "From the old man."

"YouтАФyou did murder him!"

"Why, of course I did."

He choked. "My Lord!" he gasped. "Don't you realize we'll have to tell?"

She shook her head, smiling, gently from one to the other of them. "No, Dan. You won't tell, for it
wouldn't do any good. I can't be tried twice for the same crime. Not in America."

"But why, Kyra? Why did youтАФ"

"Would you have me resume the life that sent me into your hands? I needed money; money was there; I
took it."

"But murder!"

"It was the most direct way."

"Not if you happened to be punished for it," he returned grimly.

"But I wasn't," she reminded him gently.