"Lisa Goldstein - The Phantasma of Q---" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldstein Lisa)

"And does that fantastical instrument I saw being carried upstairs belong to you?" he asked. I
hesitated, and he went on. "You don't have to admit anything if you don't want to. I should warn you,
though, that we may both be after the same thing. Have you heard there may be a phantasma in the
area?"
I confess that my heart sank at his words. "Yes," I said. "That's why I'm here."
"Good man," he said. "It's best to get these things out in the open, don't you think?" He held up his
teacup, and I saw that he intended to propose a toast, as though we were drinking spirits. "May the best
man win."
I could not argue with that. We clicked our cups together and drank. Mrs Jones bustled out from
the kitchen. "Can I get you more tea?" she asked. "Or sandwiches?"
Wallis's eyes were shining eagerly. And I, too, felt a sudden strong urge to be off, to implement
some ideas I was beginning to have, to start combing the woods for the phantasma. "Have you made any
discoveries I might be familiar with?" I asked him.
"This is my first expedition," he said. Mrs Jones began to clear away the tea things. "But one has to
start somewhere, don't you think? And I believe I have some rather original ideas about where to look."
"And what does your wife intend to do while you are away?"
"Oh, I'm going with him," Mrs Wallis said. I said nothing. It is commonplace knowledge that women
lack the stamina and initiative needed for the long, arduous journeys of exploration. I was starting to feel
more optimistic; Wallis was a rank beginner and clearly posed no threat to me.

We left early the next day. We ate the hearty breakfast Mrs Jones prepared for us, and then I bade
farewell to Wallis and his wife in the chill dawn light and set off towards the forest, carrying the
musopticon and my other instruments on my back.
The forest was ancient, perhaps a remnant of the huge wood that had once covered much of
England. I had taken only a few steps in when the light around me grew dim; the trees began to arch
towards each other, their leaves and branches plaiting overhead to form a living canopy. Oak and ash,
alder and thorn, they grew thickly around me and their leaves underfoot muted my steps. I stopped, took
the compass from my pack and got my bearings, then headed north.
The forest was terribly silent; I heard no birds, no small animals scurrying in the undergrowth. When
it came time for me to take my bearings again, the gloom was so intense that I could not see the face of
the compass or the brass dials of the musopticon, and had to light a lucifer match to be able to read them.
I shouldered the musopticon and continued on. As I tramped through the woods I wondered how
Wallis and his wife were faring in this strange place, whether Mrs Wallis, or even her husband, had
grown oppressed by the gloom and turned back. We were all amateurs in the literal sense, all of us
adventuring for love and not for money, but a sort of professional ethic had arisen among the members of
the Explorers Club, and Wallis did not seem one of our sort.
Around midday I felt the first stirrings of hunger. I took out my pocket watch and lit another match
to check the time, then ate the bread and cheese Mrs Jones had prepared. Shortly after that I deemed it
best to start back. I took another reading with the musopticon, recorded no activity once again, and
began to head south, towards the village of Q—————-.
The forest seemed even darker as I walked back; oppressively so. I began to go faster, as fast as
my various instruments would allow; they made a wild chiming noise together in my pack as I ran. I was
eager to see people again, eager even to see Mr and Mrs Wallis. I reached the end of the forest at four in
the afternoon and came to Q—————-and Mrs Jones's homely house shortly thereafter.
 To my chagrin I found that the Wallises were still out. Mrs Jones fluttered around me (if so stout a
woman can be said to flutter), helping me off with my pack, bringing me tea and sandwiches. "Are you
certain they haven't returned?" I asked as I settled down with a chipped plate of sandwiches on my knee.
"I've been here all day," Mrs Jones said. "I'd have seen them if they'd come back."
The stresses of the day were beginning to take their toll. I settled back in an overstuffed chair and
watched as Mrs Jones turned up the gas lights and lit the fire. Her tea towel, I noticed, was a souvenir