50+ Space Action Adventure Classics. Жюль Верн

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to title. I mean what English gentlemen do when they sell or let you land. You don’t arst ‘ow I got it. See? ‘Ere I am — I deliver you the goods — that’s all right. Some people ‘ave the cheek to say this isn’t my invention, see? It is, you know — THAT’S all right; but I don’t want that gone into. I want a fair and square agreement saying that’s all right. See?”

      His “See?” faded into a profound silence.

      The secretary sighed at last, leant back in his chair and produced a toothpick, and used it, to assist his meditation on Bert’s case. “What was that name?” he asked at last, putting away the toothpick; “I must write it down.”

      “Albert Peter Smallways,” said Bert, in a mild tone.

      The secretary wrote it down, after a little difficulty about the spelling because of the different names of the letters of the alphabet in the two languages.

      “And now, Mr. Schmallvays,” he said at last, leaning back and resuming the stare, “tell me: how did you ket hold of Mister Pooterage’s balloon?”

      7

      When at last the Graf von Winterfold left Bert Smallways, he left him in an extremely deflated condition, with all his little story told.

      He had, as people say, made a clean breast of it. He had been pursued into details. He had had to explain the blue suit, the sandals, the Desert Dervishes — everything. For a time scientific zeal consumed the secretary, and the question of the plans remained in suspense. He even went into speculation about the previous occupants of the balloon. “I suppose,” he said, “the laty WAS the laty. Bot that is not our affair.

      “It is fery curious and amusing, yes: but I am afraid the Prince may be annoyt. He acted wiz his usual decision — always he acts wiz wonterful decision. Like Napoleon. Directly he was tolt of your descent into the camp at Dornhof, he said, ‘Pring him! — pring him! It is my schtar!’ His schtar of Destiny! You see? He will be dthwarted. He directed you to come as Herr Pooterage, and you haf not done so. You haf triet, of course; but it has peen a poor try. His chugments of men are fery just and right, and it is better for men to act up to them — gompletely. Especially now. Particularly now.”

      He resumed that attitude of his, with his underlip pinched between his forefingers. He spoke almost confidentially. “It will be awkward. I triet to suggest some doubt, but I was overruled. The Prince does not listen. He is impatient in the high air. Perhaps he will think his schtar has been making a fool of him. Perhaps he will think I haf been making a fool of him.”

      He wrinkled his forehead, and drew in the corners of his mouth.

      “I got the plans,” said Bert.

      “Yes. There is that! Yes. But you see the Prince was interested in Herr Pooterage because of his romantic seit. Herr Pooterage was so much more — ah! — in the picture. I am afraid you are not equal to controlling the flying machine department of our aerial park as he wished you to do. He hadt promised himself that….

      “And der was also the prestige — the worldt prestige of Pooterage with us…. Well, we must see what we can do.” He held out his hand. “Gif me the plans.”

      A terrible chill ran through the being of Mr. Smallways. To this day he is not clear in his mind whether he wept or no, but certainly there was weeping in his voice. “‘Ere, I say!” he protested. “Ain’t I to ‘ave — nothin’ for ‘em?”

      The secretary regarded him with benevolent eyes. “You do not deserve anyzing!” he said.

      “I might ‘ave tore ‘em up.”

      “Zey are not yours!”

      “They weren’t Butteridge’s!”

      “No need to pay anyzing.”

      Bert’s being seemed to tighten towards desperate deeds. “Gaw!” he said, clutching his coat, “AIN’T there?”

      “Pe galm,“said the secretary. “Listen! You shall haf five hundert poundts. You shall haf it on my promise. I will do that for you, and that is all I can do. Take it from me. Gif me the name of that bank. Write it down. So! I tell you the Prince — is no choke. I do not think he approffed of your appearance last night. No! I can’t answer for him. He wanted Pooterage, and you haf spoilt it. The Prince — I do not understand quite, he is in a strange state. It is the excitement of the starting and this great soaring in the air. I cannot account for what he does. But if all goes well I will see to it — you shall haf five hundert poundts. Will that do? Then gif me the plans.”

      “Old beggar!” said Bert, as the door clicked. “Gaw! — what an ole beggar! — SHARP!”

      He sat down in the folding-chair, and whistled noiselessly for a time.

      “Nice ‘old swindle for ‘im if I tore ‘em up! I could ‘ave.”

      He rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. “I gave the whole blessed show away. If I’d j’es’ kep quiet about being Enonymous…. Gaw! …Too soon, Bert, my boy — too soon and too rushy. I’d like to kick my silly self.

      “I couldn’t ‘ave kep’ it up.

      “After all, it ain’t so very bad,” he said.

      “After all, five ‘undred pounds….It isn’t MY secret, anyhow. It’s jes’ a pickup on the road. Five ‘undred.

      “Wonder what the fare is from America back home?”

      8

      And later in the day an extremely shattered and disorganised Bert Smallways stood in the presence of the Prince Karl Albert.

      The proceedings were in German. The Prince was in his own cabin, the end room of the airship, a charming apartment furnished in wickerwork with a long window across its entire breadth, looking forward. He was sitting at a folding-table of green baize, with Von Winterfeld and two officers sitting beside him, and littered before them was a number of American maps and Mr. Butteridge’s letters and his portfolio and a number of loose papers. Bert was not asked to sit down, and remained standing throughout the interview. Von Winterfeld told his story, and every now and then the words Ballon and Pooterage struck on Bert’s ears. The Prince’s face remained stern and ominous and the two officers watched it cautiously or glanced at Bert. There was something a little strange in their scrutiny of the Prince — a curiosity, an apprehension. Then presently he was struck by an idea, and they fell discussing the plans. The Prince asked Bert abruptly in English. “Did you ever see this thing go op?”

      Bert jumped. “Saw it from Bun ‘Ill, your Royal Highness.”

      Von Winterfeld made some explanation.

      “How fast did it go?”

      “Couldn’t say, your Royal Highness. The papers, leastways the Daily Courier, said eighty miles an hour.”

      They talked German over that for a time.

      “Couldt it standt still? Op in the air? That is what I want to know.”

      “It СКАЧАТЬ