"Doyle, Arthur Conan - His Last Bow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Arthur Conan)

looked after all his needs. This fellow could speak English and
did his housekeeping for him. Then there was a wonderful cook
he said, a half-breed whom he had picked up in his travels, who
could serve an excellent dinner. I remember that he remarked
what a queer household it was to find in the heart of Surrey, and
that I agreed with him, though it has proved a good deal queerer
than I thought.
"I drove to the place -- about two miles on the south side of
Esher. The house was a fair-sized one, standing back from the
road, with a curving drive which was banked with high ever-
green shrubs. It was an old, tumble-down building in a crazy
state of disrepair. When the trap pulled up on the grass-grown
drive in front of the blotched and weather-stained door, I had
doubts as to my wisdom in visiting a man whom I knew so
slightly. He opened the door himself, however, and greeted me
wlth a great show of cordiality. I was handed over to the
manservant, a melancholy, swarthy individual, who led the way,
my bag in his hand, to my bedroom. The whole place was
depressing. Our dinner was tete-a-tete, and though my host did
his best to be entertaining, his thoughts seemed to continually
wander, and he talked so vaguely and wildly that I could hardly
understand him. He continually drummed his fingers on the
table, gnawed his nails, and gave other signs of nervous impa-
tience. The dinner itself was neither well served nor well cooked,
and the gloomy presence of the taciturn servant did not help to
enliven us. I can assure you that many times in the course of the
evening I wished that I could invent some excuse which would
take me back to Lee.
"One thing comes back to my memory which may have a
bearing upon the business that you two gentlemen are investigat-
ing. I thought nothing of it at the time. Near the end of dinner a
note was handed in by the servant. I noticed that after my host
had read it he seemed even more distrait and strange than before.
He gave up all pretence at conversation and sat, smoking endless
cigarettes, lost in his own thoughts, but he made no remark as to
the contents. About eleven I was glad to go to bed. Some time
later Garcia looked in at my door -- the room was dark at the
time -- and asked me if I had rung. I said that I had not. He
apologized for having disturbed me so late, saying that it was
nearly one o'clock. I dropped off after this and slept soundly all
night.
"And now I come to the amazing part of my tale. When I
woke it was broad daylight. I glanced at my watch, and the time
was nearly nine. I had particularly asked to be called at eight, so
I was very much astonished at this forgetfulness. I sprang up and
rang for the servant. There was no response. I rang again and
again, with the same result. Then I came to the conclusion that
the bell was out of order. I huddled on my clothes and hurried
downstairs in an exceedingly bad temper to order some hot
water. You can imagine my surprise when I found that there was