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

He was heard telling old Templeton that he wanted to get away from your investigations."
"Once I suggested that move to him," nodded Holmes. "Amusing, Billy, how even my enemies
act on my advice."
Billy hurried away. Holmes hung up his ulster and took the crystal from its pocket. He had thought of
giving it to Martha for Christmas; she loved beautiful things to put on her shelves. But why had
Hudson been so interested? Sitting down, Holmes studied it.
Again he saw a gleam of misty blue light within it, shot through with streaks of rosy red and bright gold.
This way and that he turned the crystal. At last he drew the curtains to darken the room and again sat
down to look at his purchase more narrowly.
At once he found himself sitting eagerly forward and straining his eyes to see better. The blue light had
grown stronger, and it seemed to stir, to ripple, like agitated waters. Tiny sparks and streaks of
light moved in it, brighter red and gold, with green as well, swirling like a view in a kaleidoscope. Then
there was a clearing of the mist, and for a moment Holmes glimpsed something like a faraway landscape.
It was as though he looked down from a great height across a plain. Afar in the distance rose a
close-set range of blocky heights, red as terra-cotta. Closer, more directly below, stretched a
rectangular expanse, as though of a dark platform. To the side he made out a sort of lawn, light, fluffy
green, through which the reddish soil was visible. Then the misty blue returned, blotting out the vision.
A soft knock at the door, and a key turning. Quickly Holmes leaned down to set the crystal in the
shadows beside his chair and rose. His landlady came in. She was tall, blond, of superb figure and her
red lips and blue eyes smiled. He moved toward her and they kissed.
"Dr. Watson is gone to the theater," she said, "and I thought I would bring in dinner for the two of us."
"Excellent, my dear," said Holmes, drawing her close with his lean arm. "I have been thinking about
Christmas for you. I have even decided what I shall give you."
"This first Christmas of the new century," she said. "But should you tell me so far ahead?"
"Ah," and he smiled, "you are breathless to know. Well, that Cellini ring I found for Mr. Fairdale
Hobbs is a striking little jewel. What if I should have it duplicated for you?"
"You are too good to me, my darling."
"Never good enough. All right, fetch us our dinner."
She was gone. Holmes went to the telephone and called a number. A voice answered. "Let me speak
to Professor Challenger," said Holmes.
"This is Professor Challenger," the voice growled back fiercely. "Who the devil are you, and what the
devil do you want?"
"This is Sherlock Holmes."
"Oh," the voice rang louder still, "Holmes, my dear fellow, I had no wish to be abrupt, but I am in the
midst of an important work, irritating in some aspects. And I have been bothered by journalists.
What can I do for you?"
"There's a curious problem I would like to discuss with you."
"Certainly, any time you say," bawled back Chal-lenger's voice. "You are one of the few, the very few,
citizens of London whose conversation is at all profit-able to one of my mental powers and professional
attainments. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?"
"Suppose we say ten o'clock."
Holmes hung up as Martha Hudson fetched in a tray laden with dishes.
2
 Next morning Holmes took a cab to West Kensing-ton and mounted the steps of Enmore Park,
Chal-lenger's house with its massive portico. A leathery-faced manservant admitted him and led him
along the hall to an inner door, where Holmes knocked. "Come in," came a roar, and Holmes entered a
spacious study. There were shelves stacked with books and scientific instruments. Behind the broad
table sat Challenger, a squat man with tremendous shoulders and chest and a shaggy beard such as was
worn by ancient Assyrian monarchs. In one great, hairy hand was cramped a pen. He gazed up
at Holmes with deep-lidded blue eyes.