Лучшие рассказы О. Генри = The Best of O. Henry

The other passengers she had absorbed; the seat behind her was her Bluebeard’s[188 - Bluebeard – a fictional character in European, Eastern and African folklore and Charles Perrault’s tale; he killed everybody who risked to enter the locked and forbidden room.] chamber.

Her eyes met those of Mrs. James Williams. Between two ticks of a watch they exchanged their life’s experiences, histories, hopes and fancies. And all, mind you, with the eye, before two men could have decided whether to draw steel or borrow a match.

The bride leaned forward low. She and the girl spoke rapidly together, their tongues moving quickly like those of two serpents – a comparison that is not meant to go further. Two smiles and a dozen nods closed the conference.

And now in the broad, quiet avenue in front of the Rubberneck car a man in dark clothes stood with uplifted hand. From the sidewalk another hurried to join him.

The girl in the fruitful hat quickly seized her companion by the arm and whispered in his ear.

That young man exhibited proof of ability to act promptly. Crouching low, he slid over the edge of the car, hung lightly for an instant, and then disappeared. Half a dozen of the top-riders observed his feat, wonderingly, but made no comment, deeming it prudent not to express surprise at what might be the conventional manner of alighting in this bewildering city. The truant passenger dodged a hansom and then floated past, like a leaf on a stream between a furniture van and a florist’s delivery wagon.

The girl in the tan jacket turned again, and looked in the eyes of Mrs. James Williams. Then she faced about and sat still while the Rubberneck auto stopped at the flash of the badge under the coat of the plainclothes man.

“What’s eatin’ you?” demanded the megaphonist, abandoning his professional discourse for pure English.

“Keep her at anchor for a minute,” ordered the officer. “There’s a man on board we want – a Philadelphia burglar called �Pinky’ McGuire.

There he is on the back seat. Look out for the side, Donovan.”

Donovan went to the hind wheel and looked up at James Williams.

“Come down, old sport,” he said, pleasantly. “We’ve got you. Back to Sleepytown of yours. It ain’t a bad idea, hidin’ on a Rubberneck, though. I’ll remember that.”

Softly through the megaphone came the advice of the conductor:

“Better step off, sir, and explain. The car must proceed on its tour.