"DERLETH, August - The Adventure of the Three Red Dwarves (A Solar Pons story)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Derleth August)

"Then Brighton is the murderer!"

Pons chuckled. "'Brighton hasn't the courage to kill anything--yet he has the cleverness to try to foil the police investigation by cloaking what little evidence there is."

"He knows who killed Lane, then?"

"He knows all about the matter, Parker," replied Pons. "Let me assure you that it's not as mysterious as you have imagined.''

At this moment there was a ring at the doorbell, and shortly after, Jamison strode into the room, excitement showing in his face.

"There's been a new development, Pons," he said eagerly.

"Indeed?"

"You remember those red dwarfs Brighton mentioned?"

Pons nodded.

"Well, they're gone. Someone's made off with them. Brighton is quite upset about the affair."

"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Pons. "Because I took them myself."

"You!" exclaimed Jamison.

"Yes. Here's one of them," continued Pons, handing to Jamison the dwarf he had been discussing.

"But this isn't red," protested Jamison.

"No, certainly not. I cleaned them in order to get to the bottom of this matter."

"You have the murderer!" exclaimed Jamison.

"There is no murderer," said Pons.

"Ah, it was suicide after all! I was right at first, then?"

"It was not suicide," continued Pons with maddening imperturbability.

"Well," said Jamison in justifiable exasperation, "I'm certain he didn't die of heart failure."

"But almost the same, Jamison," chuckled Pons. "the entire matter was somewhat of an accident." Pons reached down into his wastebasket and drew forth a newspaper, through which he searched diligently before finding what he sought. At last, however, he folded the paper and extended it to Jamison, indicating a paragraph to him. "Read it aloud," Pons suggested. "I'm afraid I had a slight lead on you at the outset."

"The artist and author, Mr. Gerald Lane, was today fined twenty guineas for assault and battery committed on the person of Mr. Eldridge Morton, the art critic, whose comments on his work aroused the temper of Mr. Lane. Mr. Lane, it will be remembered, was recently severely reprimanded in this court for a like offense; he is well known in artistic circles for his furious outbursts of temper.'"

"You see it now, I hope," said Pons.

Jamison shook his head. "it doesn't help me in the least," he said. "But surely this fact alone did not lead you to the solution of the case?"

"No, certainly not," said Pons. "But reflect, I called your attention to my other point, in noting the peculiarity of the room in which we found the body. If you care now to re-examine the house in St. John's Wood, you'll see that every room furnished by Brighton is marked by a radical clash of colors--no true artist can tolerate such gaudy, showy decorative effects as those colored figures in the other rooms. Lane's rooms are in splendid harmony. Yet we were told that he had wished to have his German troll figures painted a cardinal red--a color altogether out of harmony with his room. That, Jamison, was one of my points. There was nothing peculiar about the room, but, after you look into the dining room, that very fact becomes a peculiarity."