"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. The Final Circle of Paradise (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

about to set out when I saw that the door to the living room
was open and an eye was visible through the crack. Naturally, I
gave no sign. I carefully completed the inspection of my
clothing, returned to the bathroom, and vacuumed myself for a
while, whistling away merrily. When I returned to the study,
the mouse-eared head sticking through the half-open door
immediately vanished. Only the silvery tube of the splotcher
continued to protrude. Sitting down in the chair, I opened and
closed all the twelve drawers, including the secret one, and
only then looked at the door. The boy stood framed in it.
"My name is Len," he announced.
"Greetings, Len," I said absent-mindedly. "I am called
Ivan. Come on in - although I was going out to have dinner.
You haven't had dinner yet?"
"No."
"That's good. Go ask your mother's permission and we'll be
off "
"It's too early," he said.
"What's too early? To have dinner?"
"No, to go. School doesn't end for another twenty
minutes." He was silent again. "Besides, there's that fat fink
with the braid."
"He's a bad one?' I asked.
"Yeah," said Len. "Are you really leaving now?"
"Yes, I am," I said, and took the ball of string from my
pocket. "Here, take it. And what if Mother comes out first?"
He shrugged.
"If you are really leaving," he said, "would it be all
right if I stayed in your place?"
"Go ahead, stay."
"There's nobody else here?"
"Nobody."
He still didn't come to me to take the string, but let me
come to him, and even allowed me to take his ear. It was indeed
cold. I ruffled his head lightly and pushed him toward the
table.
"Go sit all you want. I won't be back soon."
"I'll take a snooze," said Len.

Chapter THREE

The Hotel Olympic was a fifteen-story red-and-black
structure. Half the plaza in front of it was covered with cars,
and in its center stood a monument surrounded by a small
flowerbed. It represented a man with a proudly raised head.
Detouring the monument, I suddenly realized that I knew the
man. In puzzlement I stopped and examined it more thoroughly.
There was no doubt about it. There in front of Hotel Olympic,
in a funny old-fashioned suit with his hand resting on an
incomprehensible apparatus which I almost took for the