Загублений світ
I was the Flail of the Lord
"Thesamehere.Nothoughtofit.Andhereweare,uptoournecksinthetureen.Why,I’veonlybeenbackthreeweeksfromUganda,andtakenaplaceinScotland,andsignedtheleaseandall.Prettygoin’son—what?Howdoesithityou?"
"Well,itisallinthemainlineofmybusiness.IamajournalistontheGazette."
"Ofcourse—yousaidsowhenyoutookiton.Bytheway,I’vegotasmalljobforyou,ifyou’llhelpme."
"Withpleasure."
"Don’tmindtakin’arisk,doyou?"
"Whatistherisk?"
"Well,it’sBallinger—he’stherisk.You’veheardofhim?"
"No."
"Why,youngfellah,whereHAVEyoulived?SirJohnBallingeristhebestgentlemanjockinthenorthcountry.Icouldholdhimontheflatatmybest,butoverjumpshe’smymaster.Well,it’sanopensecretthatwhenhe’soutoftrainin’hedrinkshard—strikin’anaverage,hecallsit.HegotdeliriumonToosday,andhasbeenragin’likeadevileversince.Hisroomisabovethis.Thedoctorssaythatitisallupwiththeolddearunlesssomefoodisgotintohim,butasheliesinbedwitharevolveronhiscoverlet,andswearshewillputsixofthebestthroughanyonethatcomesnearhim,there’sbeenabitofastrikeamongtheserving-men.He’sahardnail,isJack,andadeadshot,too,butyoucan’tleaveaGrandNationalwinnertodielikethat—what?"
