30 лучших рассказов британских писателей / 30 Best British Short Stories

By the time a fourth waiter had joined this hurried synod, Mr. Audley felt it necessary to break the silence in the interests of Tact. He used a very loud cough, instead of a presidential hammer, and said: �Splendid work young Moocher’s doing in Burmah. Now, no other nation in the world could have –’

A fifth waiter had sped towards him like an arrow, and was whispering in his ear: �So sorry. Important! Might the proprietor speak to you?’

The chairman turned in disorder, and with a dazed stare saw Mr.

Lever coming towards them with his lumbering quickness. The gait of the good proprietor was indeed his usual gait, but his face was by no means usual. Generally it was a genial copper-brown; now it was a sickly yellow.

�You will pardon me, Mr. Audley,’ he said, with asthmatic breathlessness. �I have great apprehensions. Your fish-plates, they are cleared away with the knife and fork on them!’

�Well, I hope so,’ said the chairman, with some warmth.

�You see him?’ panted the excited hotel keeper; �you see the waiter who took them away? You know him?’

�Know the waiter?’ answered Mr.

Audley indignantly. �Certainly not!’

Mr. Lever opened his hands with a gesture of agony. �I never send him,’ he said. �I know not when or why he come. I send my waiter to take away the plates, and he find them already away.’

Mr. Audley still looked rather too bewildered to be really the man the empire wants; none of the company could say anything except the man of wood – Colonel Pound – who seemed galvanised into an unnatural life.

He rose rigidly from his chair, leaving all the rest sitting, screwed his eyeglass into his eye, and spoke in a raucous undertone as if he had half-forgotten how to speak. �Do you mean,’ he said, �that somebody has stolen our silver fish service?’

The proprietor repeated the open-handed gesture with even greater helplessness and in a flash all the men at the table were on their feet.

�Are all your waiters here?’ demanded the colonel, in his low, harsh accent.

�Yes; they’re all here. I noticed it myself,’ cried the young duke, pushing his boyish face into the inmost ring. �Always count ’em as I come in; they look so queer standing up against the wall.’

�But surely one cannot exactly remember,’ began Mr. Audley, with heavy hesitation.

�I remember exactly, I tell you,’ cried the duke excitedly.