scoundrel ['skaundr(q)l], excellent ['eks(q)l(q)nt], rascality [rRs'kxlItI], rascal ['rRsk(q)l], geniality ["Gi:nI'xlItI], pleasure ['pleZq], devil ['dev(q)l], diminish [dI'mInIS], horizon [hq'raIz(q)n], visible ['vIzqbl], fond [fOnd], quad [kwOd], admiration ["xdmI'reIS(q)n], horrible ['hOrqbl], gift [gIft], eternal [I'tq:n(q)l], youth [ju:T]

"Harry."

"Hullo, Rollo."

Don't picture Harry Lime as a smooth scoundrel. He wasn't that. The picture I have of him on my files is an excellent one: he is caught by a street photographer with his stocky legs apart, big shoulders a little hunched, a belly that has known too much good food too long, on his face a look of cheerful rascality, a geniality, a recognition that his happiness will make the world's day. Now he didn't make the mistake of putting out a hand—that might have been rejected, but instead just patted Martins on the elbow and said, "How are things?"

"We've got to talk, Harry."

"Of course."

"Alone."

"We couldn't be more alone than here."

He had always known the ropes, and even in the smashed pleasure park he knew them, tipping the woman in charge of the Wheel, so that they might have a car to themselves. He said, "Lovers used to do this in the old days, but they haven't the money to spare, poor devils, now," and he looked out of the window of the swaying rising car at the figures diminishing below with what looked like genuine commiseration.

Very slowly on one side of them the city sank; very slowly on the other the great cross girders of the Wheel rose into sight. As the horizon slid away the Danube became visible, and the piers of the Kaiser Friedrich Brücke lifted above the houses.

"Well," Harry said, "it's good to see you, Rollo."

"I was at your funeral."

"That was pretty smart of me, wasn't it?"

"Not so smart for your girl. She was there too—in tears."

"She's a good little thing," Harry said. "I'm very fond of her."

"I didn't believe the police when they told me about you."

Harry said, "I wouldn't have asked you to come if I'd known what was going to happen, but I didn't think the police were on to me."

"Were you going to cut me in on the spoils?"

"I've never kept you out of anything, old man, yet." He stood with his back to the door as the car swung upwards, and smiled back at Rollo Martins, who could remember him in just such an attitude in a secluded corner of the school quad, saying, "I've learnt a way to get out at night. It's absolutely safe. You are the only one I'm letting in on it." For the first time Rollo Martins looked back through the years without admiration, as he thought: "He's never grown up." Marlowe's devils wore squibs attached to their tails: evil was like Peter Pan—it carried with it the horrifying and horrible gift of eternal youth.

Martins said, "Have you ever visited the children's hospital (ты когда-нибудь посещал детскую больницу)? Have you seen any of your victims (ты видел когда-нибудь какую-нибудь из своих жертв)?"

Harry took a look at the toy landscape below (Гарри взглянул: «взял взгляд» на игрушечный пейзаж внизу) and came away from the door (и отошел прочь от дверцы). "I never feel quite safe in these things (я никогда не чувствую себя совершенно в безопасности: «сохранным» в этих штуках; to feel — ощупывать, осязать, трогать, прикасаться; чувствовать /себя как-л.