Читать книгу The Inquisitor. A Novel онлайн

43 страница из 52

'Look here, Stephen. I didn't mean to spring this upon you. Truly I didn't. I should have written, but I only made up my mind at the last moment. I'm like that, you know. A rolling stone. Never know where I'll be to-morrow. I just said to myself: "I must have somewhere quiet in England for a week or two after rolling round." Then of course I thought of you. And then the Cathedral—I like cathedrals, I don't know why. . . . I'll be no trouble to you. I only want a room and my breakfast. And of course I'll pay for my keep.'

Stephen said gently, 'Yes.'

'Only a room and breakfast. I'd want a fire in my room though. I feel the cold. . . .'

'Well,' said Stephen, 'what . . .?'

'Oh, about twenty-five bob a week, don't you think?' Then from his breast-pocket he took his roll of notes and laid them on the table in front of him. 'I'm in funds just now,' he said.

Stephen looked at the money. His hand moved quietly forward and he touched them. He murmured, 'There's a lot of money there.'

'Yes. Fifty pounds.'