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The Thin Man

The Thin Man The Thin Man The Thin Man

Nick and Nora Charles are Hammett's most enchanting creations- a rich- glamorous couple who solve crimes in between wisecracks and martinis. FROM THE PUBLISHER Nick and Nora Charles are Hammett's most enchanting creations- a rich- glamorous couple who solve homicides in between wisecracks and martinis. At once knowing and unabashedly romantic- The Thin Man is a murder mystery that doubles as a sophisticated comedy of manners. WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING Hammett did over and over what only the best writers ever do...he wrote scenes that seemed never to have been written before. — Raymond Chandler The most breathless of Hammett's stories. — Sinclair Lewis

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Случайный отрывок из книги :

“I was fascinated by him,” Dorothy said, meaning me, “a real live detective, and used to follow him around making him tell me about his experiences. He told me awful lies, but I believed every word.”

I said: “You look tired, Nora.”

“I am. Let's sit down.”

Dorothy Wynant said she had to go back to her table. She shook hands with Nora; we must drop in for cocktails, they were living at the Courtland, her mother's name was Jorgensen now. We would be glad to and she must come see us some time, we were at the Nonmandie and would be in New York for another week on two. Dorothy patted the dog's head and left us.

We found a table. Nora said: “She's pretty.”

“If you like them like that.”

She grinned at me. “You got types?”

“Only you, darling—lanky brunettes with wicked jaws.”

“And how about the red-head you wandered off with at the Quinns' last night?”

“That's silly,” I said. “She just wanted to show me some French etchings.”

2

The next day Herbert Macaulay telephoned me. “Hello. I didn't know you were back in town till Dorothy Wynant told me. How about lunch?"

“What time is it?”

“Half past eleven. Did I wake you up?”

“Yes,” I said, “but that's all right. Suppose you come up here for lunch: I've got a hangover and don't feel like running around much. . . . O.K., say one o'clock.”

I had a drink with Nora, who was going out to have her hair washed, then another after a shower, and was feeling better by the time the telephone rang again.

A female voice asked: “Is Mr. Macaulay there?”

“Not yet.”

“Sorry to trouble you, but would you mind asking him to call his office as soon as he gets there? It's important.”

I promised to do that.

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