Испалец в колесе - страница 10
«I come on behave of thousands» the Inspectre said sitting quietly on his operation.
«I feel l know why you are here Basil» said Womlbs eyeing he leg. «It's about Jock the Cripple is it not?» The Jnspectre smiled smiling.
«How did you guess?» I inquired all puzzle.
«Alecguiness my deep Whopper, the mud on the Inspectre's left, and also the buttock on his waistbox is misting.»
The Inspectre looked astoundagast and fidgeted nervously from one fat to the other. «You neville sieze to amass me Mr Womlbs.»
«A drink genitalmen» I ventured, «before we get down to the businose in hand in hand?» They both knotted in egremont and I went to the cocky cabinet. «What would you prepare Basil, Bordom '83 or?»
«I'd rather have rather have rather» said the Inspectre who was a gourmless. After a drink and a few sam leeches Womlbs got up and paced the floor up and down up and down pacing.
«Why are you pacing the floor up and down up and down pacing dear Womlbs» I inquiet.
«I'm thinking alowed my deaf Whopper.» I looked over at the Inspectre and knew that he couldn't hear him either.
«Guess who's out of jail Mr Womlbs» the Inspectre said subbenly. Womlbs looked at me knowingly.
«Eric Morley?» I asked, they shook their heaths. «Oxo Whitney?» I quart, again they shoot their heaps. «Rygo Hargraves?» I wimpied.
«No my dear Whopper, OXO WHITNEY!» shouted Womlbs leaping to his foot. I loked at him admiring this great man all the morphia.
Meanwire in a ghasly lit street in Chelthea, a darkly clocked man with a fearful weapon, creeped about serging for revenge on the women of the streets for giving him the dreadfoot V.D. (Valentine Dyall). «I'll kill them all womb by womb» he muffled between scenes. He was like a black shadow or negro on that dumb foggy night as he furtively looked for his neck victim. His minds wandered back to his childhook, remembering a vague thing or two like his mother and farmer and how they had beaten him for eating his sister. «I'm demented» he said checking his dictionary, «I should bean at home on a knife like these.» He turned into a dim darky and spotted a light.
Mary Atkins pruned herselves in the mirrage running her hand wantanly through her large blond hair. Her tight dress was cut low revealingly three or four more blackheads carefully scrubbed on her chess. Business had been bad lately and what with the cost of limping. She hurriedly tucked in her gooseberries and opened the door. «No wonder business is bad» she remarked as she caught size of her hump in the hall mirror. «My warts are showing.» With a carefree yodel she slept into the street and caught a cab to her happy humping grounds. «That Sydnees's nothing but a pimple living on me thus» she thought «lazing about day in day off, and here's me plowing my train up and down like Soft Arthur and you know how soft Arthur.» She got off as uterus at Nats Cafe and took up her position. 'They'll never even see me in this fog' she muttered switching on her lamps. Just then a blasted Policemat walked by. «Blasted Policemat» she shouted, but luckily he was deaf. «Blasted deaf Policemat» she shouted. «Why don't yer gerra job!»
Little did she gnome that the infamous Jack the Nipple was only a few streets away. «I hope that blasted Jack the Nipple isn't only a few streets away,» she said, «he's not right in the heads.»
«How much lady» a voice shocked her from the doorways of Nats. Lucky for him there was a sale on so. they soon retched an agreament. A very high class genderman she thought as they walked quickly together down the now famous Carringto Average.
«I tell yer she whore a good woman Mr Womlbs sir» said Sydnees Aspinall.
«I quite believe you Mr Asterpoll, after all you knew her better than me and dear old buddy friend Whopper, but we are not here to discuss her merits good or otherwives, we are here, Mr Asronaute, to discover as much information as we can about the unfortunate and untidy death of Mary Atkins.» Womlbs looked the man in the face effortlessly.
«The name's Aspinall guvnor» said the wretched man.