The Secret Files of Solar Pons

Начало книги

"There are some things, my dear Parker,into which it is better not to inquire too closely. They are far more poignant than words can express."

"Eigh, Pons?"

It was a bitterly cold January day — still, with a touch of ice in the air. I had finished my rounds early, it was just dusk and I was reading the newspaper in front of a glowing fire in our quarters at 7B Praed Street awaiting tea, while my friend Solar Pons busied himself with a gazetteer at a small table near the window. He turned his lean, feral face toward me and smiled faintly.

"I see from the headlines there that you have been reading of the Bulgur atrocities. From the expression on your face I surmise that the massacres in that quarter have moved you deeply."

"Indeed, Pons," I rejoined. "It recalled to my mind my own experiences in the field."

Solar Pons nodded and pushed back his chair from the table. He held out his thin hands to the fire and rubbed them briskly together.

Читать дальше →