Читать книгу The Mystery on the Snow: A Doc Savage Adventure - Lester Bernard Dent - Страница 5

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Moving rapidly, the bronze man disarmed the unlucky raiders. Cartridges for the guns came to light. There were three blackjacks in their possession.

Objects which received particular attention, however, were time-tables and stubs of railway tickets. These proved that the gang had recently come from the far northern portion of Canada.

One fellow, weaving dizzily on his feet, stared at the giant of metal.

“Who is yo’?” he demanded vacantly.

The big man of bronze did not answer. He propelled the captives into a corner. The terrible quality of his strength was shown by the way in which the men were pitched about by his apparently effortless gestures.

A striking phenomenon occurred. Each time the man of metal came near one of the others, he appeared to grow in stature. This was due to the fact that, although he was a giant in size, his sinews were developed with such general thoroughness that his proportions were entirely symmetrical. His build was such that, at a distance, he seemed no larger than other men.

The prisoners peered at him as though they were having a bad dream.

Monk, enjoying their discomfiture, grinned from ear to ear.

“Know who this big fellow is?” he demanded.

“Non,” muttered a man.

Monk paused to get the proper spectacular effect; then: “Doc Savage!” he called. “He’s the man you wanted to meet.”

Doc Savage, man of bronze, eyed the assortment of captives.

“What did you want with me?” he queried.

Doc Savage’s voice was remarkable for its qualities of tone. Neither loud, nor distinctly emphatic, the voice conveyed an impression of restrained power.

“Non,” muttered the other, lying, “We not want yo’.”

“Your words carried to me, at the rear of the hangar,” Doc told him. “You asked for me.”

The reply was a stubborn, “Non.”

Doc turned upon the lawyer, Ham. “What did you learn to-day?” he asked.

Ham sheathed his sword cane. “This fellow, Mahal, is getting information about you, Doc.”

Doc Savage commented nothing. His unusually regular bronze features did not change expression.

“Mahal went to a newspaper clipping agency,” Ham continued. “He got an envelope of clippings. I managed to lift it from his pocket, inspect them, then return them. All of the items were about you, Doc.”

“This is the fifth day he has been snooping around,” said Doc Savage.

Had he heard these words, Mahal would have been shocked. He had been investigating Doc Savage for exactly five days—thinking all the while that his doings were unobserved.

Mahal’s mistake was one made by other men in the past. He had underestimated Doc Savage’s ability and power of observation. Little escaped his weirdly golden eyes.

Mahal had not been shadowing Doc Savage an hour, before the bronze man was aware of it.

“Any idea why Mahal is securing information about us?” queried Doc.

“No,” Ham replied. “It’s probably for no good reason, though. I investigated this Mahal. He’s a shady character, a fake mystic. You know the kind of a racket they pull. They get hold of some sap and persuade him to make an offering to the spirits to bring good luck. The fake mystics pocket the offerings.”

“Renny is still on his trail?” Doc questioned.

Ham nodded. “He sure is. Mahal got in a taxi that Renny was driving. I got a glimpse of Renny’s big hands as the machine pulled away from the clipping agency.”

Doc Savage had not seemed to be watching the captives during this conversation. That he had been scrutinizing them, however, was evident from his next words.

“These fellows are connected with this Mahal affair,” he said.

Ham was puzzled. “How do you figure that?”

“They looked uneasy when his name was mentioned,” Doc replied.

Doc Savage had many enemies. By the very nature of the strange purpose to which he had dedicated his life, it could not be otherwise. Any individual outside the law, in the remotest corners of the world, was a potential foe. For Doc Savage traveled to the ends of the earth in his work of punishing evildoers, righting wrongs, and helping those in trouble.

Doc Savage had five associates—five men who aided him in his work. Each of these was a master of some profession. Monk, the homely chemist, was one; Ham, probably the most astute lawyer Harvard had ever turned out, was another. “Renny,” the man with the enormous fists, was one of the five. Renny was an engineer whose name was known in many lands.

Love of adventure bound these men to Doc Savage—that and an admiration for the bronze man’s abilities which never ceased to grow.

Monk indicated the prisoners. “What’ll we do with these beauties?”

“Make them talk,” Doc replied.

There was something about the bronze man’s words—perhaps it was the absolute absence of any emphasis—which sent a shiver over the little group in the corner.

The huge tri-motored speed plane stood well back in the warehouse hangar. From its cabin a shrill, whining note came.

Doc Savage glided to the plane. There was a leonine ease, a flashing speed in his movements.

The speed ship’s cabin held many instruments. The whining note was coming from a radio receiver. Doc clicked switches which set a radio telephone transmitter into operation.

“All right,” he said into the microphone.

The voice which came out of the loud-speaker sounded not unlike a lion’s roaring.

“Renny reporting, Doc,” it said. “I’m talking from the radio apparatus in the cab.”

“What have you learned?” Doc asked.

“I installed a dictograph in Mahal’s joint,” Renny explained over the radio. “Ran the wires to receivers in the basement. I was just down there listening. I heard plenty.”

“Mahal talked to someone?”

“Yep. To somebody with a squeaky voice, called Stroam. They’re framing up on us, Doc.”

The bronze man’s features did not alter expression at this. He was not particularly surprised. When strange men began to dog his footsteps, it usually meant trouble.

It was that fact which had moved him to set his men to watching Mahal. The sinister activities of Mahal had been an omen of danger to come.

The career of Doc Savage would have ended long ago, had the bronze man not formed a habit of keeping a jump ahead of the most wily foes.

“Keep an eye open, Doc,” Renny warned, over the radio. “From what I overheard, Mahal has sent men to get you.”

“They’re here,” Doc said into the microphone. “We’ve got them.”

“Holy cow!” ejaculated Renny.

“What did you hear, Renny?” Doc queried.

“A fairly complete story.” Renny summarized briefly. “It seems that a man named Ben Lane, now in the Canadian wilderness, has something which a sinister individual, who calls himself Stroam, wants. Stroam is afraid Ben Lane will appeal to you for help, Doc. He came to New York to prevent your aiding the man. Mahal was hired to check up on you.”

“The fellows who just attacked us here at the hangar, seem to be natives of northern Canada,” Doc stated. “That checks with what you have heard. They’re Stroam’s men, all right.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Bring Mahal and Stroam here.”

“You bet!” Renny’s roar sounded delighted.

“Do not tackle it alone. I’ll send Johnny and Long Tom to aid you.”

“I can manage it alone.”

“Wait for Johnny and Long Tom.”

“O. K.,” Renny grumbled.

Doc Savage had radio apparatus installed at numerous points. All of the sets operated on the same wave-length. Thus it was possible to carry on conversation with the facility of a party telephone line.

“Long Tom—Johnny!” Doc called into the microphone.

“Johnny speaking,” answered a rather scholastic voice from the loud-speaker.

Doc gave the address of Mahal’s establishment. “You fellows had better drop up there and help Renny,” he directed. “Are you at the office?”

“No,” said “Johnny.” “I’m in my car, driving up lower Broadway.”

“Long Tom,” Doc called. “Long Tom! Long Tom!” He was seeking to raise the other member of his group of five aides.

There was no response.

“Long Tom is possibly working in the laboratory in your office, Doc,” Johnny said. “If he’s there, he’ll be so interested in what he’s doing that he couldn’t hear thunder.”

“That’s right,” Doc agreed. “Drop by the office and get him, will you, Johnny?”

“With an abundance of pleasure, but there will be a delay of a few minutes while I get up there.”

“I’ll wait until you birds get here,” Renny chimed in to the manifold aerial conversation.

The radio sets were now switched off.