), closing each nostril in turn (прикрывая каждую ноздрю по очереди). You expected him to throw away the handkerchief after one use (вы ожидали = можно было ожидать, что он выбросит платок после одного использования). "Would you mind, Mr. Martins, telling me the purpose of your visit (вы не возражаете, мистер Мартинс, против того, чтобы рассказать мне цель вашего визита)? I have a patient waiting (я меня ждет пациент)."
amateur ['xmqtq:], detective [dI'tektIv], advantage [qd'vRntIG], professional [prq'feSqnl], confine [kqn'faIn], cover ['kAvq], perimeter [pq'rImItq], antique [xn'ti:k], specialize ['speSqlaIz], oval ['quv(q)l], hideous ['hIdIqs], cardinal ['kRdIn(q)l], incense ['Insens], disturb [dIs'tq:b], irresistible ["IrI'zIstqbl], desire [dI'zaIq], sully ['sAlI]
AN AMATEUR detective has this advantage over the professional, that he doesn't work set hours. Rollo Martins was not confined to the eight hour day: his investigations didn't have to pause for meals. In his one day he covered as much ground as one of my men would have covered in two, and he had this initial advantage over us, that he was Harry's friend. He was, as it were, working from inside, while we pecked at the perimeter.
Dr. Winkler was at home. Perhaps he would not have been at home to a police officer. Again Martins had marked his card with the sesame phrase: "A friend of Harry Lime's."
Dr. Winkler's waiting room reminded Martins of an antique shop—an antique shop that specialized in religious objets d'art. There were more crucifixes than he could count, none of later date probably than the seventeenth century. There were statues in wood and ivory. There were a number of reliquaries: little bits of bone marked with saints' names and set in oval frames on a background of tin foil. If they were genuine, what an odd fate it was, Martins thought, for a portion of Saint Susanna's knuckle to come to rest in Doctor Winkler's waiting room. Even the high-backed hideous chairs looked as if they had once been sat in by cardinals. The room was stuffy, and one expected the smell of incense. In a small gold casket was a splinter of the True Cross. A sneeze disturbed him.
Dr. Winkler was the cleanest doctor Martins had ever seen. He was very small and neat, in a black tail coat and a high stiff collar; his little black moustache was like an evening tie. He sneezed again: perhaps he was cold because he was so clean. He said "Mr. Martins?"
An irresistible desire to sully Dr. Winkler assailed Rollo Martins. He said, "Dr. Winkle?"