Тридцять дев’ять ступенів

Chapter 3

           

           AboutsixintheeveningIcameoutofthemoorlandtoawhiteribbonofroadwhichwoundupthenarrowvaleofalowlandstream.AsIfollowedit,fieldsgaveplacetobent,theglenbecameaplateau,andpresentlyIhadreachedakindofpasswhereasolitaryhousesmokedinthetwilight.Theroadswungoverabridge,andleaningontheparapetwasayoungman.

           Hewassmokingalongclaypipeandstudyingthewaterwithspectacledeyes.Inhislefthandwasasmallbookwithafingermarkingtheplace.Slowlyherepeated

           AswhenaGryphonthroughthewilderness

           Withwingèdstep,o’erhillandmoorydale

           PursuestheArimaspian.

           Hejumpedroundasmysteprungonthekeystone,andIsawapleasantsunburntboyishface.

           “Goodeveningtoyou,”hesaidgravely.“It’safinenightfortheroad.”

           Thesmellofpeatsmokeandofsomesavouryroastfloatedtomefromthehouse.

           “Isthatplaceaninn?”Iasked.

           “Atyourservice,”hesaidpolitely.“Iamthelandlord,sir,andIhopeyouwillstaythenight,fortotellyouthetruthIhavehadnocompanyforaweek.”

           Ipulledmyselfupontheparapetofthebridgeandfilledmypipe.Ibegantodetectanally.

           “You’reyoungtobeaninnkeeper,”Isaid.

           “Myfatherdiedayearagoandleftmethebusiness.Ilivetherewithmygrandmother.It’saslowjobforayoungman,anditwasn’tmychoiceofprofession.”

           “Whichwas?”

           Heactuallyblushed.“Iwanttowritebooks,”hesaid.

           “Andwhatbetterchancecouldyouask?”Icried.

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