Mrs Peixada. Harland Henry
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Название: Mrs Peixada

Автор: Harland Henry

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 4064066216061

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СКАЧАТЬ you?” Looking up, he saw Mr. Rimo.

      “Ah,” said Arthur, offering his hand, “how do you do? Sit down.”

      Mr. Rimo had an odoriferous jonquil in his buttonhole, and carried a silver-headed Malacca cane. He drew up to the table, lit a cigar with a wax match, and called for Vichy water.

      “Well, Mr. Ripley,” he questioned solicitously, “how are you getting on?”

      “Oh, very well, thanks. I saw your uncle this morning.”

      “That so? Any news?”

      “You mean about the case? Nothing decisive as yet. It’s hardly time to expect anything.”

      “Oh, no; of course not. I’ll tell you one thing. You’ve got a nice job before you.”

      “Yes, and an odd one.”

      “What I was thinking of especially was the lady. She’s a specimen. Not many like her.”

      “It’s to be hoped not. You of course knew her very well?”

      “No, I can’t say as I did. I can’t say as I knew her very well. She wasn’t an easy woman to know. But I’d seen a great deal of her. It was a mere chance that I didn’t marry her myself. Lucky, wasn’t I?”

      “Why, how was that?”

      “Well, it was this way. You see, one evening while she was still Miss Karon, I called on her. Who should sail in five minutes later but Uncle Barney? She was right up to the top notch that evening—devilish handsome, with her black eyes and high color, and as sharp as an IXL blade. When we left—we left together, the old man and I—when we left, I was saying to myself, ’By gad, I couldn’t do better. I’ll propose for her to-morrow.’ Just then he pipes up. ’What is your opinion of that young lady?’ he asks. ’My opinion?’ says I. ’My opinion is that she’s a mighty fine gal.’ ’Well, you bet she is,’ says he; ’and I’m glad you think so, because she’s apt to be your auntie before a great while.’ ’The devil!’ says I. ’Yes, sir, says he. ’I’ve made up my mind to marry her. I’m going to speak to her father about it in the morning.’ Well, of course that settled my hash. I wasn’t going to gamble against my uncle. Narrow escape, hey?”

      Having concluded this picturesque narrative, Mr. Rimo emptied a bumper of sparkling Vichy water, with the remark, “Well, here’s to you,” and applied a second wax match to his cigar, which had gone out while he was speaking.

      “Who were her people?” asked Arthur. “What sort of a family did she come from?”

      “Oh, her family was correct enough. Name was Karon, as you know already. Her old man was a watch-maker by trade, and kept a shop on Second Avenue. I guess he did a pretty comfortable business till he got struck on electricity. He invented some sort of an electric clock, and sent it to the Centennial at Philadelphia. It took the cake; and after that Michael Karon was a ruined man. Why? Because after that he neglected his business, and spent all his time and all the money he had saved, in fooling around and trying to improve what the Centennial judges had thought was good enough. He couldn’t let well alone. Result was he spoiled the clock, and went all to pieces. He was in a desperate bad way when Uncle Barney stepped up and married his daughter. Hang a man who’s got an itch for improvement. What I say is, lay on to a good thing, and then stick to it for all you’re worth.”

      “He died shortly after the marriage, didn’t he?”

      “Yes—handed in his checks that fall. She had had a tip-top education; used to give lessons in music, and this, that, and the other ’ology. She was the most knowing creature I ever saw—had no end of chochmah. Don’t know what chochmah is? Well, that means Jewish shrewdness; and she held a corner in it, too. But such a temper! Lord, when she got excited, her eyes were terrible. I can just imagine her downing the old man. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me one time.”

      “Tell me about it.”

      “Oh, there ain’t much to tell—only this. Of course, you know, it’s the fashion to kiss the bride at her wedding. But I happened to be on the road at the date of their wedding, and couldn’t get back in time. I didn’t mean to lose that kiss, just the same. So when I called on them, after my return, ’Aunt Judith,’ says I, ’when are you going to liquidate that little debt you owe me?’ ’Owe you?’ says she, looking surprised. ’I didn’t know I owed you any thing.’ ’Why, certainly,’ says I; ’you owe me a kiss:’ She laughed and shied off and tried to change the subject. ’Come,’ says I, ’stepup to the captain’s office and settle.’ ’Yes,’ says Uncle Barney, ’kiss your nephew, Judith.’ ’But I don’t want to kiss him,’ says she, beginning to look dark. ’You kiss him,’ says Uncle Barney, looking darker. And she—she kissed me. But, gad, the way she glared! Her eyes were just swimming in fire. I swear, it frightened me; and I’m pretty tough. I don’t want any more kisses of that sort, thank you. It stung my lips like a hornet.” Mr. Rimo drew a deep breath, and caressed the knob of his cane with the apple of his chin. “It was an awful moment,” as they say on the stage, he added.

      “Who was that—what was his name?—the second of her victims,” inquired Arthur.

      “Oh, Bolen—Edward Bolen. He was Uncle Barney’s coachman. After the old boy got married and retired from business, he set up a team, and undertook to be aristocratic. The theory was that when he and she began rowing that night, Bolen attempted to step in between them, and that she just reminded him of his proper place with an ounce of lead. She never was tried for his murder. I suppose her acquittal in the case of Uncle Barney made the authorities think it wouldn’t pay to try her again. Every body said it was an infernal outrage for her to go free; but between you and me—and mum’s the word—I was real glad of it. Not that she hadn’t ought to have been punished for shooting her husband. But to have locked up her confoundedly pretty face out of sight in a prison—that would have been an infernal outrage, and no mistake. As for hanging her, they’d never have hanged her, anyhow—not even if the jury had convicted. But I don’t mean to say that she was innocent. Sane? Well, you never saw a saner woman. She knew what she was about better than you and I do now.”

      “How do you account for the murder? What motive do you assign?”

      “Most everybody said ’money’—claimed that she went deliberately to work and killed the old man for his money. Some few thought there must be another man at the bottom of it—that she had a paramour who put her up to it. But they didn’t know her. She had a hot temper; but as far as men were concerned, she was as cool as a Roman punch. My own notion is that she did it in a fit of passion. He irritated her somehow, and she got mad, and let fire. You see, I recollect the way she glared at me that time. Savage was no word for it. If she’d had a gun in her hand, my life wouldn’t have been worth that”—and Mr. Rimo snapped his fingers.

      “I must say, you have contrived to interest me in her. I shall be glad when I have an opportunity of seeing her with my own eyes.”

      “Well, you take my advice. When you’ve found out her whereabouts, don’t go too close, as they tell the boys at the menagerie. She’s as vicious as they make them, I don’t deny it. But she’s got a wonderful fascination about her, notwithstanding, and if she thought it worth her while, she could wind you around her finger like a hair, and never know she’d done it. I wish you the best possible luck.”

      Mr. Rimo rose, shook hands, moved off.

      Arthur’s СКАЧАТЬ