Читать книгу Special Detective (Ashton-Kirk) онлайн

43 страница из 68

Deftly he tucked in the coverlets upon the opposite side, and buttoned up the heavy coat. But when he reached for the muffling folds about the sick man’s head, all the sureness seemed to leave his fingers; Scanlon was astonished to see him bungle the matter most disgracefully; instead of accomplishing what he set out to do, he succeeded in knocking the covering off altogether.

“Pardon me,” he said, smoothly enough.

The invalid returned some commonplace answer; and the doctor set about repairing the result of the volunteer’s awkwardness.

“Your intentions are the best in the world,” smiled he, “but I can see that you have spent very little of your time about sick beds.”

Then he opened the door, and beckoned the Indian. The chair rolled out upon the porch, and a moment later could be heard crunching along the gravel walk.

Ashton-Kirk smoked his black cigar with much silent deliberation, and sipped at the strong coffee. Several times during the next half hour Scanlon attempted to bring him out of this state by remarks as to the inn and its population. But he received replies of the most discouraging nature, and so gave it up. When the cigar was done, the crime specialist arose and stretched his arms wide in a yawn.