"Г.К.Честертон. The Scandal of Father Brown " - читать интересную книгу автора

as he wrote, he heard a new sound and sat up suddenly. It was a long
repeated whistle, and in his mood he hated it doubly, because it was like
the signal of a conspirator and like the love - call of a bird. There
followed an utter silence, in which he sat rigid; then he rose abruptly; for
he had heard yet another noise. It was a faint swish followed by a sharp rap
or rattle; and he was almost certain that somebody was throwing something at
the window. He walked stiffly downstairs, to the floor which was now dark
and deserted; or nearly deserted. For the little priest was still sitting
under the orange shrub, lit by a low lamp; and still reading his book.
'You seem to be sitting up late,' he said harshly.
'Quite a dissipated character,' said Father Brown, looking up with a
broad smile, 'reading Economics of Usury at all wild hours of the night.'
'The place is locked up,' said Rock.
'Very thoroughly locked up,' replied the other. 'Your friend with the
beard seems to have taken every precaution. By the way, your friend with the
beard is a little rattled; I thought he was rather cross at dinner.'
'Natural enough,' growled the other, 'if he thinks savages in this
savage place are out to wreck his home life.'
'Wouldn't it be better,' said Father Brown, 'if a man tried to make his
home life nice inside, while he was protecting it from the things outside.'
'Oh, I know you will work up all the casuistical excuses,' said the
other; 'perhaps he was rather snappy with his wife; but he's got the right
on his side. Look here, you seem to me to be rather a deep dog. I believe
you know more about this than you say. What the devil is going on in this
infernal place? Why are you sitting up all night to see it through?'
'Well,' said Father Brown patiently, 'I rather thought my bedroom might
be wanted.'
'Wanted by whom?'
'As a matter of fact, Mrs Potter wanted another room,' explained Father
Brown with limpid clearness. 'I gave her mine, because I could open the
window. Go and see, if you like.'
'I'll see to something else first,' said Rock grinding his teeth. 'You
can play your monkey tricks in this Spanish monkey - house, but I'm still in
touch with civilization.' He strode into the telephone - booth and rang up
his paper; pouring out the whole tale of the wicked priest who helped the
wicked poet. Then he ran upstairs into the priest's room, in which the
priest had just lit a short candle, showing the windows beyond wide open.
He was just in time to see a sort of rude - ladder unhooked from the
window - sill and rolled up by a laughing gentleman on the lawn below. The
laughing gentleman was a tall and swarthy gentleman, and was accompanied by
a blonde but equally laughing lady. This time, Mr Rock could not even
comfort himself by calling her laughter hysterical. It was too horribly
genuine; and rang down the rambling garden - paths as she and her troubadour
disappeared into the dark thickets.
Agar Rock turned on his companion a face of final and awful justice;
like the Day of Judgement.
'Well, all America is going to hear of this,' he said. 'In plain words,
you helped her to bolt with that curly - haired lover.'
'Yes,' said Father Brown, 'I helped her to bolt with that curly -
haired lover.'