Проклятие мумии, или Камень Семи Звезд
Chapter 7
"
"Verygood,sir!"heansweredinatoneofrelief,andhurriedaway.
Itookthestrangerintothelittleboudoiracrossthehall.Aswewentheaskedme:
"Areyouthesecretary?"
"No!IamafriendofMissTrelawny’s.MynameisRoss."
"Thankyouverymuch,Mr.Ross,foryourkindness!"hesaid."MynameisCorbeck.Iwouldgiveyoumycard,buttheydon’tusecardswhereI’vecomefrom.AndifIhadhadany,Isupposethey,too,wouldhavegonelastnight—"
Hestoppedsuddenly,asthoughconsciousthathehadsaidtoomuch.Webothremainedsilent;aswewaitedItookstockofhim.Ashort,sturdyman,brownasacoffee-berry;possiblyinclinedtobefat,butnowleanexceedingly.Thedeepwrinklesinhisfaceandneckwerenotmerelyfromtimeandexposure;therewerethoseunmistakablesignswherefleshorfathasfallenaway,andtheskinhasbecomeloose.Theneckwassimplyanintricatesurfaceofseamsandwrinkles,andsun-scarredwiththeburningoftheDesert.TheFarEast,theTropicSeasons,andtheDesert—eachcanhaveitscolourmark.Butallthreearequitedifferent;andaneyewhichhasonceknown,canthencefortheasilydistinguishthem.Theduskypallorofone;thefiercered-brownoftheother;andofthethird,thedark,ingrainedburning,asthoughithadbecomeapermanentcolour.Mr.Corbeckhadabighead,massiveandfull;withshaggy,darkred-brownhair,butbaldonthetemples.
