Отруєний пояс
Chapter I. The Blurring Of Lines
"Ithoughtyouwerequeerfromthefirst."
"Yourhabits,sir,havenotmendedinthesethreeyears,"saidSummerlee,shakinghishead."Ialsodidnotfailtoobserveyourstrangemannerthemomentwemet.Youneednotwasteyoursympathy,LordJohn.Thesetearsarepurelyalcoholic.Themanhasbeendrinking.Bytheway,LordJohn,Icalledyouacoxcombjustnow,whichwasperhapsundulysevere.Butthewordremindsmeofasmallaccomplishment,trivialbutamusing,whichIusedtopossess.Youknowmeastheausteremanofscience.CanyoubelievethatIoncehadawell-deservedreputationinseveralnurseriesasafarmyardimitator?PerhapsIcanhelpyoutopassthetimeinapleasantway.Woulditamuseyoutohearmecrowlikeacock?"
"No,sir,"saidLordJohn,whowasstillgreatlyoffended,"itwouldnotamuseme."
"Myimitationofthecluckinghenwhohadjustlaidaneggwasalsoconsideredratherabovetheaverage.MightIventure?"
"No,sir,no—certainlynot."
Butinspiteofthisearnestprohibition,ProfessorSummerleelaiddownhispipeandfortherestofourjourneyheentertained—orfailedtoentertain—usbyasuccessionofbirdandanimalcrieswhichseemedsoabsurdthatmytearsweresuddenlychangedintoboisterouslaughter,whichmusthavebecomequitehystericalasIsatoppositethisgraveProfessorandsawhim—orratherheardhim—inthecharacteroftheuproariousroosterorthepuppywhosetailhadbeentroddenupon.OnceLordJohnpassedacrosshisnewspaper,uponthemarginofwhichhehadwritteninpencil,"Poordevil!Madasahatter.
