Читать книгу Special Detective (Ashton-Kirk) онлайн

6 страница из 68

A volume of Burton lay upon the table at his hand. He picked it up.

“Here’s Bagdad,” said he, riffling the pages, sharply. “Bagdad, a city stuffed with strangeness. But,” and he looked at Ashton-Kirk, earnestly, “had it really anything on this town of ours? Were its nights deeper? its silences more mysterious? I think not. Let any man—with his eyes open—mind you—go out into one of our nights, and he’ll meet with as many astonishments as Haroun Al Raschid, the best prowler of them all.”

Ashton-Kirk smiled through the thickening smoke. It were as though he had convinced himself of something.

“Your defence of present day interests is so keen,” said he, “that I’m inclined to hope this case you have holds some exceptional features.”

Scanlon nodded.

“And yet,” with a gesture, “I’m not so sure. I can’t put my fingers on a single thing, or even give it a name.”

“It has something to do with this young fellow Campe, I think you said.”

“It has all to do with him,” stated Mr. Scanlon. “And that’s one of the things that makes it so queer. He’s the last one I’d expected to get mixed up with anything of the kind; and he’s a gone youngster if somebody with more stuff than I have don’t step in and take a swing at it.”