Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
Chapter I. I Go to Styles
Mary,anabsurdlittlestation,withnoapparentreasonforexistence,perchedupinthemidstofgreenfieldsandcountrylanes.JohnCavendishwaswaitingontheplatform,andpilotedmeouttothecar.
“Gotadroportwoofpetrolstill,yousee,”heremarked.“Mainlyowingtothemater’sactivities.”
ThevillageofStylesSt.Marywassituatedabouttwomilesfromthelittlestation,andStylesCourtlayamiletheothersideofit.Itwasastill,warmdayinearlyJuly.AsonelookedoutovertheflatEssexcountry,lyingsogreenandpeacefulundertheafternoonsun,itseemedalmostimpossibletobelievethat,notsoveryfaraway,agreatwarwasrunningitsappointedcourse.IfeltIhadsuddenlystrayedintoanotherworld.Asweturnedinatthelodgegates,Johnsaid:
“I’mafraidyou’llfinditveryquietdownhere,Hastings.”
“Mydearfellow,that’sjustwhatIwant.”
“Oh,it’spleasantenoughifyouwanttoleadtheidlelife.Idrillwiththevolunteerstwiceaweek,andlendahandatthefarms.Mywifeworksregularly‘ontheland’.Sheisupatfiveeverymorningtomilk,andkeepsatitsteadilyuntillunchtime.It’sajollygoodlifetakingitallround—ifitweren’tforthatfellowAlfredInglethorp!”Hecheckedthecarsuddenly,andglancedathiswatch.“Iwonderifwe’vetimetopickupCynthia.No,she’llhavestartedfromthehospitalbynow.”
“Cynthia!That’snotyourwife?”
“No,Cynthiaisaprotégéeofmymother’s,thedaughterofanoldschoolfellowofhers,whomarriedarascallysolicitor.
