Отруєний пояс
Chapter I. The Blurring Of Lines
Ourjourneyledusupawindinghillthroughbeautifulcountry.Isatinfrontwiththechauffeur,butbehindmemythreecomradesseemedtometobealltalkingtogether.LordJohnwasstillstrugglingwithhisbuffalostory,sofarasIcouldmakeout,whileonceagainIheard,asofold,thedeeprumbleofChallengerandtheinsistentaccentsofSummerleeastheirbrainslockedinhighandfiercescientificdebate.SuddenlyAustinslantedhismahoganyfacetowardmewithouttakinghiseyesfromhissteering-wheel.
"I’mundernotice,"saidhe.
"Dearme!"saidI.
Everythingseemedstrangeto-day.Everyonesaidqueer,unexpectedthings.Itwaslikeadream.
"It’sforty-seventimes,"saidAustinreflectively.
"Whendoyougo?"Iasked,forwantofsomebetterobservation.
"Idon’tgo,"saidAustin.
Theconversationseemedtohaveendedthere,butpresentlyhecamebacktoit.
"IfIwastogo,whowouldlookafter’im?"Hejerkedhisheadtowardhismaster."Whowould’egettoserve’im?"
"Someoneelse,"Isuggestedlamely.
"Not’e.Noonewouldstayaweek.IfIwastogo,that’ousewouldrundownlikeawatchwiththemainspringout.I’mtellingyoubecauseyou’re’isfriend,andyououghttoknow.IfIwastotake’imat’isword—butthere,Iwouldn’thavethe’eart.’Eandthemissuswouldbeliketwobabesleftoutinabundle.I’mjusteverything.Andthen’egoesandgivesmenotice."
"Whywouldnoonestay?"Iasked.
"Well,theywouldn’tmakeallowances,sameasIdo.’E’saverycleverman,themaster—socleverthat’e’scleanbalmysometimes.
