"Г.К.Честертон. The Club of Queer Trades " - читать интересную книгу автора

be a painfully prosaic person, but by the same token he knew he
was incurably sane. Another man, again, might have thought himself
a victim of a passing practical joke, but Brown could not easily
believe this. He knew from his own quaint learning that the garden
arrangement was an elaborate and expensive one; he thought it
extravagantly improbable that any one would pour out money like
water for a joke against him. Having no explanation whatever to
offer, he admitted the fact to himself, like a clear-headed man,
and waited as he would have done in the presence of a man with six
legs.

At this moment the stout old man with white whiskers looked up, and
the watering can fell from his hand, shooting a swirl of water down
the gravel path.

"Who on earth are you?" he gasped, trembling violently.

"I am Major Brown," said that individual, who was always cool in
the hour of action.

The old man gaped helplessly like some monstrous fish. At last he
stammered wildly, "Come down--come down here!"

"At your service," said the Major, and alighted at a bound on the
grass beside him, without disarranging his silk hat.

The old man turned his broad back and set off at a sort of waddling
run towards the house, followed with swift steps by the Major. His
guide led him through the back passages of a gloomy, but gorgeously
appointed house, until they reached the door of the front room.
Then the old man turned with a face of apoplectic terror dimly
showing in the twilight.

"For heaven's sake," he said, "don't mention jackals."

Then he threw open the door, releasing a burst of red lamplight,
and ran downstairs with a clatter.

The Major stepped into a rich, glowing room, full of red copper,
and peacock and purple hangings, hat in hand. He had the finest
manners in the world, and, though mystified, was not in the least
embarrassed to see that the only occupant was a lady, sitting by
the window, looking out.

"Madam," he said, bowing simply, "I am Major Brown."

"Sit down," said the lady; but she did not turn her head.

She was a graceful, green-clad figure, with fiery red hair and a
flavour of Bedford Park. "You have come, I suppose," she said