Английский язык с Грэмом Грином. Третий человек

Kurtz said nothing, but somewhere, in a room off the hall, somebody cleared his throat. Martins threw open a door: he had half expected to see the dead rise yet again, but it was only Dr. Winkler who rose from a kitchen chair, in front of the kitchen stove, and bowed very stiffly and correctly with the same celluloid squeak.

"Dr. Winkle," Martins said. Dr. Winkler looked extraordinarily out of place in a kitchen. The debris of a snack lunch littered the kitchen table, and the unwashed dishes consorted very ill with Dr. Winkler's cleanness.

'Winkler," the doctor corrected him with stony patience.

Martins said to Kurtz: "Tell the doctor about my madness. He might be able to make a diagnosis. And remember the place—by the Great Wheel. Or do ghosts only rise by night?" He left the flat.

For an hour he waited, walking up and down to keep warm, inside the enclosure of the Great Wheel: the smashed Prater with its bones sticking crudely through the snow was nearly empty. One stall sold thin flat cakes like cartwheels, and the children queued with their coupons. A few courting couples would be packed together in a single car of the Wheel and revolve slowly above the city surrounded by empty cars. As the car reached the highest point of the Wheel, the revolutions would stop for a couple of minutes and far overhead the tiny faces would press against the glass. Martins wondered who would come for him. Was there enough friendship left in Harry for him to come alone, or would a squad of police arrive? It was obvious from the raid on Anna Schmidt's flat that he had a certain pull. And then as his watch hand passed the hour, he wondered: was it all an invention of my mind? are they digging up Harry's body now in the Central Cemetery?

Somewhere behind the cake stall a man was whistling and Martins knew the tune. He turned and waited. Was it fear or excitement that made his heart beat—or just the memories that tune ushered in, for life had always quickened when Harry came, came just as he came now, as though nothing much had happened, nobody had been lowered into a grave or found with cut throat in a basement, came with his amused deprecating take-it-or-leave-it manner—and of course one always took it.

"Harry."

"Hullo, Rollo (привет, Ролло)."

Don't picture Harry Lime as a smooth scoundrel (не представляйте Гарри Лайма как вкрадчивого прохвоста; smooth — гладкошерстный /чаще всего — о породе собак/; гладкий, ровный; скользкий /о поверхности/; заискивающий, вкрадчивый, льстивый). He wasn't that (он не был таким). The picture I have of him on my files (его фотография, которая у меня в моем деле) is an excellent one (отличная): he is caught by a street photographer (он пойман уличным фотографом) with his stocky legs apart (с его коренастыми ногами расставленными: «врозь»), big shoulders a little hunched (с его большими плечами немного сгорбленными; to hunch — сгибаться; горбиться, сутулиться), a belly that has known too much good food too long (c животом, который знал слишком много хорошей еды слишком долго), on his face a look of cheerful rascality (на его лице вид неунывающего плутовства; rascal — жулик, мошенник, плут), a geniality (радушие; genial — веселый, общительный; добрый, доброжелательный), a recognition that his happiness will make the world's day (представление, что его счастье важно всем на свете: «сделает день всего мира»; recognition — осознание, понимание; сознание, представление). Now he didn't make the mistake of putting out a hand (теперь он не сделал ошибки протягивания руки)—that might have been rejected (это могло быть отвергнуто), but instead just patted Martins on the elbow (но вместо /этого/ просто похлопал Мартинса по локтю) and said, "How are things (как дела)?"

"We've got to talk, Harry (мы должны поговорить, Гарри)."

"Of course (конечно)."

"Alone (одни = один на один)."

"We couldn't be more alone than here (мы не могли бы быть больше одни, чем здесь)."