Артур Дойль
75 лучших рассказов = 75 Best Short Stories (Сборник рассказов)
My Adventure in Norfolk (A.J. Alan)
I dont know how it is with you, but during February my wife generally says to me: Have you thought at all about what we are going to do for August? And, of course, I say, No, and then she begins looking through the advertisements of bungalows[1] to let.
Well, this happened last year, as usual, and she eventually produced one that looked possible. It said: Norfolk[2] Hickling Broad Furnished Bungalow Garden Garage, Boathouse, and all the rest of it Oh and plate and linen. It also mentioned an exorbitant rent. I pointed out the bit about the rent, but my wife said: Yes, youll have to go down and see the landlord, and get him to come down. They always do. As a matter of fact, they always dont, but thats a detail.
Anyway, I wrote off to the landlord and asked if he could arrange for me to stay the night in the place to see what it was really like. He wrote back and said: Certainly, and that he was engaging Mrs. So-and-So to come in and oblige me, and make up the beds and so forth.
I tell you, we do things thoroughly in our family I have to sleep in all the beds, and when I come home my wife counts the bruises and decides whether they will do or not.
At any rate, I arrived, in a blinding snowstorm, at about the most desolate spot on Gods earth. Id come to Potter Heigham by train, and been driven on (it was a good five miles from the station). Fortunately, Mrs. Selston, the old lady who was going to do for me, was there, and shed lighted a fire, and cooked me a steak, for which I was truly thankful.
I somehow think the cow, or whatever they get steaks off, had only died that morning. It was very er obstinate. While I dined, she talked to me. She would tell me all about an operation her husband had just had. All about it. It was almost a lecture on surgery. The steak was rather underdone, and it sort of made me feel I was illustrating her lecture. Anyway, she put me clean off my dinner, and then departed for the night.
I explored the bungalow and just had a look outside. It was, of course, very dark, but not snowing quite so hard. The garage stood about fifteen yards from the back door. I walked round it, but didnt go in. I also went down to the edge of the broad, and verified the boathouse. The whole place looked as though it might be all right in the summertime, but just then it made one wonder why people ever wanted to go to the North Pole.
Anyhow, I went indoors, and settled down by the fire. Youve no idea how quiet it was; even the waterfowl had taken a night off at least, they werent working.
At a few minutes to eleven I heard the first noise thered been since Mrs. Whats-her-name Selston had cleared out. It was the sound of a car. If it had gone straight by I probably shouldnt have noticed it at all, only it didnt go straight by; it seemed to stop farther up the road, before it got to the house. Even that didnt make much impression. After all, cars do stop.
It must have been five or ten minutes before it was borne in on me that it hadnt gone on again. So I got up and looked out of the window. It had left off snowing, and there was a glare through the gate that showed that there were headlamps somewhere just out of sight. I thought I might as well stroll out and investigate.
I found a fair-sized limousine pulled up in the middle of the road about twenty yards short of my gate. The light was rather blinding, but when I got close to it I found a girl with the bonnet open, tinkering with the engine. Quite an attractive young female, from what one could see, but she was so muffled up in furs that it was rather hard to tell.
I said:
Er good evening anything I can do.
She said she didnt know what was the matter. The engine had just stopped, and wouldnt start again. And it had! It wouldnt even turn, either with the self-starter or the handle. The whole thing was awfully hot, and I asked her whether there was any water in the radiator. She didnt see why there shouldnt be, there always had been. This didnt strike me as entirely conclusive. I said, wed better put some in, and see what happened. She said, why not use snow? But I thought not. There was an idea at the back of my mind that there was some reason why it was unwise to use melted snow, and it wasnt until I arrived back with a bucketful that I remembered what it was. Of course goitre.
When I got back to her shed got the radiator cap off, and inserted what a Danish friend of mine calls a funeral. We poured a little water in. Luckily Id warned her to stand clear. The first tablespoonful that went in came straight out again, red hot, and blew the funeral sky-high. We waited a few minutes until things had cooled down a bit, but it was no go. As fast as we poured water in it simply ran out again into the road underneath. It was quite evident that shed been driving with the radiator bone dry and that her engine had seized right up.
I told her so. She said:
Does that mean Ive got to stop here all night?
I explained that it wasnt as bad as all that; that is, if she cared to accept the hospitality of my poor roof (and it was a poor roof it let the wet in). But she wouldnt hear of it. By the by, she didnt know the er circumstances, so it wasnt that. No, she wanted to leave the car where it was and go on on foot.
I said:
Dont be silly, its miles to anywhere.
However, at that moment we heard a car coming along the road, the same way as shed come. We could see its lights, too, although it was a very long way off. You know how flat Norfolk is you can see a terrific distance.
I said:
Theres the way out of all your troubles. This thing, whatever it is, will give you a tow to the nearest garage, or at any rate a lift to some hotel.
One would have expected her to show some relief, but she didnt. I began to wonder what she jolly well did want. She wouldnt let me help her to stop where she was, and she didnt seem anxious for anyone to help her to go anywhere else.
She was quite peculiar about it. She gripped hold of my arm, and said:
What do you think this is thats coming?
I said:
Im sure I dont know, being a stranger in these parts, but it sounds like a lorry full of milk cans.
I offered to lay her sixpence about it (this was before the betting-tax came in). Shed have had to pay, too, because it was a lorry full of milk cans. The driver had to pull up because there wasnt room to get by.
He got down and asked if there was anything he could do to help. We explained the situation. He said he was going to Norwich[3], and was quite ready to give her a tow if she wanted it. However, she wouldnt do that, and it was finally decided to shove her car into my garage for the night, to be sent for next day, and the lorry was to take her along to Norwich.
Well, I managed to find the key of the garage, and the lorry-driver Williams, his name was and I ran the car in and locked the door. This having been done (ablative absolute) I suggested that it was a very cold night. Williams agreed, and said he didnt mind if he did. So I took them both indoors and mixed them a stiff whisky and water each. There wasnt any soda. And, naturally, the whole thing had left me very cold, too. I hadnt an overcoat on.
Up to now I hadnt seriously considered the young woman. For one thing it had been dark, and there had been a seized engine to look at. Er Im afraid thats not a very gallant remark. What I mean is that to anyone with a mechanical mind a motor-car in that condition is much more interesting than er well, it is very interesting but why labour the point? However, in the sitting-room, in the lamplight, it was possible to get more of an idea. She was a little older than Id thought, and her eyes were too close together.
Of course, she wasnt a how shall I put it? Her manners werent quite easy and she was careful with her English. You know. But that wasnt it. She treated us with a lack of friendliness which was well, wed done nothing to deserve it. There was a sort of vague hostility and suspicion, which seemed rather hard lines, considering. Also, she was so anxious to keep in the shadow that if I hadnt moved the lamp away shed never have got near the fire at all.
And the way she hurried the wretched Williams over his drink was quite distressing; and foolish, too, as he was going to drive, but that was her funnel. When hed gone out to start up his engine I asked her if she was all right for money, and she apparently was. Then they started off, and I shut up the place and went upstairs.
There happened to be a local guide-book in my bedroom, with maps in it. I looked at these and couldnt help wondering where the girl in the car had come from; I mean my road seemed so very unimportant. The sort of road one might use if one wanted to avoid people. If one were driving a stolen car, for instance. This was quite a thrilling idea. I thought it might be worth while having another look at the car. So I once more unhooked the key from the kitchen dresser and sallied forth into the snow. It was as black as pitch, and so still that my candle hardly flickered. It wasnt a large garage, and the car nearly filled it. By the by, wed backed it in so as to make it easier to tow it out again.
The engine Id already seen, so I squeezed past along the wall and opened the door in the body part of the car. At least, I only turned the handle, and the door was pushed open from the inside and something fell out on me. It pushed me quite hard, and wedged me against the wall. It also knocked the candle out of my hand and left me in the dark which was a bit of a nuisance. I wondered what on earth the thing was barging into me like that so I felt it, rather gingerly, and found it was a man a dead man with a moustache. Hed evidently been sitting propped up against the door. I managed to put him back, as decorously as possible, and shut the door again.
After a lot of grovelling about under the car I found the candle and lighted it, and opened the opposite door and switched on the little lamp in the roof and then oo-er!