Читать книгу Farewell Summer - Рэй Брэдбери, Ray Bradbury, Ray Bradbury Philip K. Dick Isaac Asimov - Страница 11

CHAPTER SIX

The hours burned in cold white wintry flashes, as people scuttled in and out of Braling’s mansion, hoping against hope that he was Lazarus.

Calvin C. Quartermain careened about Braling’s porch like the captain of a wrecked ship.

‘Damn! I saw the boy’s gun!’

‘There’s no bullet–hole,’ said Dr. Lieber, who’d been called.

‘Shot dead, he was! Dead!’

The house grew silent as the people left, bearing away the husk that had been poor Braling. Calvin C. Quartermain abandoned the porch, mouth salivating.

‘I’ll find the killer, by God!’

Propelling himself with his cane, he turned a corner.

A cry, a concussion! ‘No, by God, no!’ He flailed at the air and fell.

Some ladies rocking on the nearest porch leaned out. ‘Is that old Quartermain?’

‘Oh, he can’t be dead, too – can he?’

Quartermain’s eyelids twitched.

Far off, he saw a bike, and a boy racing away.

Assassin, he thought. Assassin!