"Г.К.Честертон. The Club of Queer Trades " - читать интересную книгу автораbehind him. Then he swung sharply out of the great glaring road
and disappeared down an ill-lit alley. We swung silently after him. "This is an odd turning for a man of that kind to take," I said. "A man of what kind?" asked my friend. "Well," I said, "a man with that kind of expression and those boots. I thought it rather odd, to tell the truth, that he should be in this part of the world at all." "Ah, yes," said Basil, and said no more. We tramped on, looking steadily in front of us. The elegant figure, like the figure of a black swan, was silhouetted suddenly against the glare of intermittent gaslight and then swallowed again in night. The intervals between the lights were long, and a fog was thickening the whole city. Our pace, therefore, had become swift and mechanical between the lamp-posts; but Basil came to a standstill suddenly like a reined horse; I stopped also. We had almost run into the man. A great part of the solid darkness in front of us was the darkness of his body. At first I thought he had turned to face us. But though we were four times on a very low and dirty door in the dark, crabbed street. A gleam of gas cut the darkness as it opened slowly. We listened intently, but the interview was short and simple and inexplicable as an interview could be. Our exquisite friend handed in what looked like a paper or a card and said: "At once. Take a cab." A heavy, deep voice from inside said: "Right you are." And with a click we were in the blackness again, and striding after the striding stranger through a labyrinth of London lanes, the lights just helping us. It was only five o'clock, but winter and the fog had made it like midnight. "This is really an extraordinary walk for the patent-leather boots," I repeated. "I don't know," said Basil humbly. "It leads to Berkeley Square." As I tramped on I strained my eyes through the dusky atmosphere and tried to make out the direction described. For some ten |
|
|