"Guy N. Smith - The Slime Beast" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

'Who the hell.. .' Gavin struggled to his feet but Professor Lowson was already on his way to answer it,
muttering angrily to himself.

'Confound the man!' he snarled. 'I thought I made myself perfectly clear.' He dragged the door open.
'Now for the last time.. .'

His words trailed off. It was not Manton Haywood who stood on the threshold.

This man was small of build. Several days' growth of beard covered sharp features and his deep, sunken
eyes darted suspiciously in all directions. He wore a camouflaged army-surplus combat jacket and
thigh-length waders. A tattered cap, several sizes too small, vainly tried to cover unruly locks of long grey
hair.

'What d'you want?' Professor Lowson was in no mood to be amicable.

'That's just what I've come to ask you,' the other replied. 'Who the hell d'you think you are to move into
this place just as though you bloody well owned it? You bloody shooters are a nuisance from the time the
season opens until it doses. All you do is scare off all the ducks and geese so that there's none left for a
feller like me who has to make a livin' out of 'em! '

'Firstly,' Professor Lowson took a step forward, 'we are not shooters. Secondly, as I've already told
another of you locals, we shall do just what the hell we please while we are here. And thirdly, who are
you to come banging on my door at this time of night?'

'Mallard Glover's the name.' The wildfowler stood with his hands on his hips, 'and what I say on this part
of the marshes goes! I've been fowlin' and whelkin' here for nigh on thirty years. Never 'ad no trouble till
you blasted tit-shooters from the cities started comin' 'ere. I ain't 'avin' none of it mate. I got me a livin' to
make and I ain't 'avin' it mussed up by the likes of a bearded old bastard like you!'

The thunder clouds which had been building up inside Lowson suddenly burst. Rage replaced reason. His
clenched fist swung in a wide arc and crunched with all the force of his body behind it on Glover's jaw.

The wildfowler seemed to become airborne and then he crashed full length into the mud. For some
moments he lay still and then very slowly he forced himself up on to his knees. His features were
completely hidden beneath a layer of thick marsh ooze.

'Uncle Jack!' Liz darted forward and placed a restraining hand on her uncle's arm in case he was thinking
of following up the assault. 'Uncle Jack! You shouldn't have done that.'

'You're damn right he shouldn't 'ave.' Mallard Glover spat out mud as he spoke. 'That's assault that is. I
could go to the police. But I won't. I'll get even just the same though. You see if I don't.'
'Clear off!' Gavin decided it was time that he took a hand. 'You only got what you asked for. Now clear
out and don't come back. Otherwise you'll get my boot up your arse to help you on your way.'

Mallard Glover picked himself up, shook himself like a dog and without even a backward glance sloped
off into the night.

'Christ!' Gavin forced the door closed and followed the other inside. 'It seems we're not exactly popular,
to say the least!'