"Manly Wade Wellman - Sherlock Holmes's War of the Worlds" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wellman Manly Wade)

"I should think they have it at hand. The ray might be compared to a pistol, something for short range
and direct fire, for it could not reach us behind our dune. But very probably they are provided with
something that can strike a target under cover, comparable, per-haps, to a rifle in human hands."
"What would it be like?"
"There you call on me for a guess, and I am not prepared to make it. But I think your servants
are setting out something for us to eat."
They went into the dining hall, where a supper of cold meat and bread and salad had been laid out. As
they ate, a man arrived with a message from London. Troops were being sent to augment the sketchy
units already on the scene. The night went on, at about one o'clock word arrived that another
cylinder had landed at nearby Byfleet.
 "Two cargoes of horror have come to us across space," Sir Percy half moaned. "What next?"
"A third cargo next," readily answered his guest, "and, after that, a fourth. Eight more in all, making a
total of ten."
"Yes, yes, there were ten flashes from Mars, were there not? I had forgotten."
"It would be well to bear it most faithfully in mind."
At last they sought their bedrooms to rest as well as they could, and were up at early dawn of
Saturday. They dressed quickly, drank hot coffee, and walked together to the Woking railroad station to
catch the first train for London. Sir Percy stopped to speak to the grizzled postmaster.
"More troops will be coming here, with trained ob-servers and heavy weapons," he said. "Information
on all that happens here is to be wired to my office by Brigadier Waring or various members of his staff.
Now, here are my urgent orders to you personally: Any message addressed to me is to be sent in
dupli-cate to my friend here."
"Don't I know this gentleman, Sir Percy?" asked the postmaster. "I seem to remember that he visited
you here in '88."
"Yes, he came to help me in a confidential matter that concerned the Italian naval treaty. This is Mr.
Sherlock Holmes, and his address in London is 221-B Baker Street."
8


Sherlock Holmes hailed a cab when he got off the train at Waterloo Station and was in Baker Street
by seven o'clock. He went upstairs to 221-B, but did not enter his own flat. Instead, he touched the bell
above the doorplate that read MRS. HUDSON. In a mo-ment his landlady opened to him. She was a
stately blond woman with a rosy face, smiling in happy wel-come.
"Has Watson come home?" he asked quickly.
"No, he telephoned last night. He says he must stay with his poor old servant Murray until tomorrow,
per-haps longer."
"Then we are alone."
Holmes stepped into her sitting room as he spoke and closed the door to the hall. They kissed, holding
each other close, her rich curves pressed against his sinewy leanness. "My dear," she whispered against
his cheek, "I have always loved you."
"Let us not say quite always, Martha," he amended, smiling. "Not until we met at Donnithorpe, when I
was an undergraduate beginning my work as a consulting detective and you were a poor, troubled village
girl."
"You are always exact, even when you are kissing me."
"Yes, call me a precisionist in that, too." Expertly their mouths joined again.
"You solved my troubles then," she said, after long moments. "You set me free from Morse Hudson."
"It was then that I decided what my career would be."
"And you helped me find this place in town, and then you came to live here. You found Dr. Watson as
a fellow lodger, so that between you you could pay the rent I must have." She released him at last and
drew back, relishing him with her eyes. "But have you had breakfast?"