"Charles L. Harness - The Rose" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

Over the green-crested wall at her left, day was about to break, and from the Via came the sound of
groups of diehard revelers, breaking up and drifting away, like specters at cock-crow. The cheerful
clatter of milk bottles got mixed up in it somehow.

They paused at the archway while the man kicked at the seat of the pants of a specter whom dawn had
returned to slumber beneath the arch. The sleeper cursed and stumbled to his feet in bleary indignation.

"Excuse us, Willie," said Anna's companion, motioning for her to step through.

She did, and the creature of the night at once dropped into his former sprawl.

Anna cleared her throat. "Where now?"

"At this point I must cease to be a gentleman. I'm returning to the studio for some sleep, and you can't
come. For, if your physical energy is inexhaustible, mine is not." He raised a hand as her startled mouth
dropped open. "Please, dear Anna, don't insist. Some other night, perhaps."

"Why you—"

"Tut tut." He turned a little and kicked again at the sleeping man. "I'm not an utter cad, you know. I
would never abandon a weak, frail, unprotected woman in the Via."

She was too amazed now even to splutter.

Ruy Jacques reached down and pulled the drunk up against the wall of the arch, where he held him
firmly. "Dr. Anna van Tuyl, may I present Willie the Cork."

The Cork grinned at her in unfocused somnolence.

"Most people call him the Cork because, that's what seals in the bottle's contents," said Jacques. "I call
him the Cork because he's always bobbing up. He looks like a bum, but that's just because he's a good
actor. He's really a Security man tailing me at my wife's request, and he'd only be too delighted for a little
further conversation with you. A cheery good morning to you both!"

A milk truck wheeled around the corner. Jacques leaped for its running board, and he was gone before
the psychiatrist could voice the protest boiling up in her.

A gurgling sigh at her feet drew her eyes down momentarily. The Cork was apparently bobbing once
more on his own private alcoholic ocean.

Anna snorted in mingled disgust and amusement, then hailed a cab. As she slammed the door, she took
one last look at Willie. Not until the cab rounded the corner and cut off his muffled snores did she realize
that people usually don't snore with their eyes half-opened and looking at you, especially with eyes no
longer blurred with sleep, but hard and glinting.

Chapter Four
Twelve hours later, in another cab and in a different part of the city, Anna peered absently out at the
stream of traffic. Her mind was on the coming conference with Martha Jacques. Only twelve hours ago
Mrs. Jacques had been just a bit of necessary case history. Twelve hours ago Anna hadn't really cared
whether Mrs. Jacques followed Bell's recommendation and gave her the case. Now it was all different.