It was not the face that was familiar (это было не лицо что было знакомо = знакомо было не лицо), for he could not make out so much as the angle of the jaw (ибо он не мог различить так много как = даже угол челюсти): nor a movement (ни движения), for the body was so still that he began to believe (ибо тело было таким неподвижным, что он начал верить/полагать) that the whole thing was an illusion caused by shadow (что все это было иллюзией, вызванной тенью). He called sharply (он позвал резко). "Do you want anything (вы что-нибудь хотите)?" and there was no reply (и не было никакого ответа). He called again with the irascibility of drink (он позвал снова с раздражительностью выпившего; irascible — вспыльчивый, несдержанный, раздражительный). "Answer (отвечай), can't you (ты можешь: «не можешь ты» = почему не отвечаешь)?" and an answer came (и ответ пришел), for a window curtain was drawn petulantly back by some sleeper he had awakened (ибо оконная занавеска была отодвинута раздраженно назад каким-то спящим, которого он разбудил; petulant — нетерпеливый, обидчивый, раздражительный, вздорный, всем недовольный) and the light fell straight across the narrow street (и свет упал прямо через узкую улицу) and lit up the features of Harry Lime (и осветил черты Гарри Лайма; to light up — освещать).

assiduously [ə`sıdjuəslı], irascibility [ıræsı`bılıtı], petulant [`petjulənt]

during ['djuqrIN], assiduous [q'sIdjuqs], illusion [I'lu:Z(q)n], irascibility [I"rxsI'bIlItI], irascible [I'rxsIbl], petulant ['petjulqnt]

He walked rapidly away: he didn't bother to see whether he was being followed, to check up on the shadow. But passing by the end of the street he happened to turn and there just around the corner, pressed against a wall to escape notice, was a thick stocky figure. Martins stopped and stared. There was something familiar about that figure: perhaps, he thought, I have grown unconsciously used to him during these last twenty-four hours: perhaps he is one of those who have so assiduously checked my movements. Martins stood there, twenty yards away, staring at the silent motionless figure in the dark side-street who stared back at him. A police spy, perhaps, or an agent of those other men, those men who had corrupted Harry first and then killed him: even possibly the third man?

It was not the face that was familiar, for he could not make out so much as the angle of the jaw: nor a movement, for the body was so still that he began to believe that the whole thing was an illusion caused by shadow.