Сельский вампир и другие истории Отца Брауна / Vampire of the Village and other Father Brown Stories. Уровень 3 - стр. 8

[64]. The scene which followed, when he actually did what the priest asked him, was certainly of the sort in which a man, as the saying is, can hardly believe his eyes.

The Rev. Samuel Horner was standing in his black dress, which made the silver of his head more noticeable; his hand rested at the moment on the table at which he often sit to study the Bible, now possibly by accident only; but it gave him a greater look of authority. And opposite to him his rebel son was sitting relaxed in a chair, smoking a cheap cigarette with a grin on his face; a lively picture of youthful disrespect.

The old man offered Father Brown a seat, which he took and sat there silent, looking at the ceiling. But something made Mulborough feel that he could tell his important news more impressively standing up.

‘I feel,’ he said, ‘that you should know, as in some sense the spiritual father of this village[65], that one terrible tragedy has taken on a new significance; possibly even more terrible. You must remember the sad case of the death of Maltravers, who was supposed to have been killed with the hit of a club, probably by some enemy among the villagers.’

The clergyman moved hishand. ‘God forbid,’ he said, ‘that I should say anything good about that case. But when an actor brings his evil into this quiet village, he goes against the judgement of God.’

‘Perhaps,’ said the doctor seriously. ‘But anyhow it was not so that the judgement fell. I have just been asked to make an autopsy on the body; and I can tell you, first, that the hit on the head could not have caused the death; and, second, that the body was full of poison, which caused death without any doubt.’

Young Hurrel Horner threw his cigarette away and was on his feet as quick as a cat. He jumped towards the reading-desk.

‘Are you certain of this?’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you absolutely certain that that hit could not cause death?’

‘Absolutely certain,’ said the doctor.

‘Well,’ said Hurrel, ‘I almost wish this one could.’

In a moment, before anyone could move a finger, he had hit the priest on the mouth, throwinghim backwards like a black doll against the door.

‘What are you doing?’ shouted Mulborough, shaken from head to foot with the shock and mere sound of the hit. ‘Father Brown, what is this madman doing?’