"Г.К.Честертон. The Club of Queer Trades " - читать интересную книгу автора

merely in himself," I said mildly; "his mode of life--"

Before I could complete the sentence the door was flung open and
Drummond Keith appeared again on the threshold, his white Panama
on his head.

"I say, Grant," he said, knocking off his cigarette ash against
the door, "I've got no money in the world till next April. Could
you lend me a hundred pounds? There's a good chap."

Rupert and I looked at each other in an ironical silence. Basil,
who was sitting by his desk, swung the chair round idly on its
screw and picked up a quill-pen.

"Shall I cross it?" he asked, opening a cheque-book.

"Really," began Rupert, with a rather nervous loudness, "since
Lieutenant Keith has seen fit to make this suggestion to Basil
before his family, I--"

"Here you are, Ugly," said Basil, fluttering a cheque in the
direction of the quite nonchalant officer. "Are you in a hurry?"

"Yes," replied Keith, in a rather abrupt way. "As a matter of fact
I want it now. I want to see my--er--business man."

Rupert was eyeing him sarcastically, and I could see that it was
on the tip of his tongue to say, inquiringly, "Receiver of stolen
goods, perhaps." What he did say was:

"A business man? That's rather a general description, Lieutenant
Keith."

Keith looked at him sharply, and then said, with something rather
like ill-temper:

"He's a thingum-my-bob, a house-agent, say. I'm going to see him."

"Oh, you're going to see a house-agent, are you?" said Rupert Grant
grimly. "Do you know, Mr Keith, I think I should very much like to
go with you?"

Basil shook with his soundless laughter. Lieutenant Keith started
a little; his brow blackened sharply.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "What did you say?"

Rupert's face had been growing from stage to stage of ferocious
irony, and he answered: