"Альфред Бестер. The Flowered Thundermug (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автораclaret.
Sergeants Brophy and Albert, the footmen, alternately opened the front door for each other with much elaborate formality as they took turns going out to mail letters. Detective Kennedy painted the garage. Detective Edna May Oliver hung the bedding out the upstairs windows to air. And at frequent intervals Sergeant Begley (chef) chased Sergeant Mayhoff (second chef) through the house with a meat cleaver. At 2300 hours, Inspector Robinson put the salver down and yawned prodigiously. The cue was picked up by his staff, and the entire mansion echoed with yawns. In the living room, Inspector Robinson undressed, put on a nightgown and nightcap, lit a candle and extinguished the lights. He put out the library lights, leaving only the pin spot focused on the safe dial. Then he trudged upstairs. In other parts of the house his staff also changed to nightgowns, and then joined him. The Webb home was dark and silent. An hour passed; a clock chimed twenty-four. A loud clank sounded from the direction of Skouras Drive. "The front gate," Ed whispered. "It's the Artsy-Craftsy Kid," Ed added. "Keep your voices down!" "Right, Chief." There was a crunch-crunch-crunch of gravel. "Coming up the front drive," Ed muttered. "Oh, he's a deep one," Ed said. The gravel noises changed to mushy sounds. "Crossing the flower border," Ed said. "You got to hand it to him," Ed said. There was a dull thud, a stumble and an imprecation. "Stepped into a flowerpot," Ed said. There came a series of thuddy noises at irregular |
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